#devoured soul effect

[quietwingsinthesky]

thinks about child-but-growing-fast amara and lucifer in the same room and gets ill.

[myplasticadversary]

Perhaps having another breakdown thinking about Kendall wanting to be like his dad and not wanting to be like him and being like him after all but only the bad parts ((:

[iamnotoriginalphil]

To Be Taught a Lesson (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Agatha has some anger to work out. Lucky for her, you happen to be right within touching distance.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, power imbalance, toxic relationship, age gap (all 18+), corruption kink if you squint, bondage, swearing, degradation, marking, vibrator, begging, jealousy, possessiveness, overstimulation, dom!Agatha, sub!R

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @toomanylesbiancouples @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle

You were curled up on the swing on Agatha’s back porch. Large swathes of skin were on show, your legs bare despite the chill in the air. Her sweater, the cashmere one that had cost an arm and a leg, looked good on you. With your head bent over the book in your lap, hair falling forward from where it had come free from the bun you’d thrown it into that morning, sunlight hitting your body, you glowed.

She looked away from you, back to the garden. The gardener had returned, planting something for the first blush of spring. You hadn’t even seemed to notice his arrival, buried in a book you’d been pouring over for days now. She knew that book. It was achingly familiar, the leather cover and embossed letters like a dream from another lifetime.

You tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. Her eyes followed it, lingering long after your fingers had fallen back into your lap. Your teeth were worrying at your lower lip, a move that had grown familiar over the months of watching you. Every time you read, lost in thought, working on something, those teeth would sink in and she would feel her entire body come alive. Knowing what it felt when it was her teeth had only made the entire experience worse.

She wasn’t sure you knew exactly how tempting you were. You’d wandered into that library, in that insufferable bore’s home, and she’d known she had to have you. All wide eyed innocence and desperation, you’d been delicious from the moment she’d laid eyes on you.

And then you’d proven yourself to be exceptional.

Now, knowing you, knowing your body and your soul, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep you. Some nights she’d watch you sleep, worn out from her ministrations, and feel her heart squeeze. It wasn’t fair, how you impacted her, the effect you had on her, and you had no idea. None. That with a single word you could bring her to her knees.

You glanced up, lips parted on a soft sigh, eyes alighting on her. Your smile was immediate, your entire being brightening, melting back into the cushions on the swing. Your foot was on the wooden slats of the porch, gentle rocking yourself, bare leg making her mouth water.

“Anything else you need, Miss Harkness?”

She snarled, turning towards the gardener lingering was at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes widened, taking a step back from her.

“No,” she replied, the eye roll obvious in her voice, “get out.”

She watched him scurry away, a sick sense of pleasure coursing through her body. She shook her hair back from her face, her finger brushing back those strands caught in the wind. When she turned back to you, it was to find sparkling eyes and a hidden smile turned in her direction. The warmth that melted through her veins left her feeling unsettled.

“Do you aim to scare everyone you cross paths with?” you asked, slowing your rocking.

“Do I scare you, pet?” she asked in return.

You shook your head, lip caught between your teeth, keeping your pretty smile from blooming over your face. You made such a nice picture, in her clothes, bruises on your skin left from her lips and her fingers, looking at her like she was the only thing you could see. She wanted to devour you, to chain you up and keep you from ever leaving, to hold you so close and so gentle that nothing ever happened to you.

She sauntered towards you, hands in pockets, staring down at you. You watched her, mouth falling open, eyes sweeping over her body. She revelled when you looked at her like that, like she was every dream you’d ever had, like you were an innocent hoping to be corrupted.

She knew you were anything but innocent.

“I could, if you liked,” she said, stopping in front of you, “would you like to be scared?”

“I’d rather get my heart rate up over something else,” you said in that way that sounded so sweet but let her now what a naughty pet you could be.

Your hand reached for her, clutching at her shirt, tugging on her until she was close enough to curl her hands around you, to seek out your bare skin, to make you shiver. She skimmed her fingertips along your leg, pausing at the hem of the sweater you were in.

“I believe this is mine,” she said, pinching it.

“You can have it back if you want,” you said, stretching your leg out in a move that had her wanting to sink her teeth into your skin, “but you’ll have to take it off me yourself.”

You had grown so much since that girl she’d first met, careful to always say the right thing, stealing glances, wanting something you thought you couldn’t have. She chuckled, running her fingertips back down your leg, luxuriating in the warm skin under her touch.

“I wouldn’t bother,” she said.

You pouted and she knew you were doing your best to tempt her.

“It looks so pretty on you. Why deny myself the pleasure of seeing you in it?” she murmured.

Your eyes brightened, your smile turning pleased. She loved when she could please you. Your gaze turned down, head dipping, hair falling into your face, hiding you from her.

“None of that, kitten,” she said, her fingers raising your chin again.

Your fingers were still clutching her shirt. When you tightened them, pulling her closer, she let you without argument, wanting it as much as you seemed to.

“Sit with me?” you asked, and she couldn’t say no to you.

Your legs shifted as she sat beside you, feet pressing into her thigh. It was like you were unable to stay away from her, to keep yourself from touching her in some way. It had been so long since someone had been so intent on her. You’d made your promises of forever, but your actions were what made her believe there was a chance they would be true. You always reached for her, the moment she was in the same room. Your eyes always turned to her. Your entire focus caught on her. It was nice to know she was the only thing you could see.

“What are you reading, kitten?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

“A manual on how to be a witch,” you replied, smile turning impish.

She could imagine you as a witch. Dancing under the moonlight with a group of women, power coursing through your veins, brewing up potions. You’d take to it like a duck to water, your natural habitat. You’d be formidable with magic running in your veins.

“The one I sent you for?” she asked, delicate as she could be.

“Rio returned it,” you said, eyes darting up to her then back down to the book in your lap.

“How kind of her.” She wasn’t trying to hide her sarcasm.

“Are you mad?” you asked.

“Not at you, kitten.”

She curled her fingers around your ankle, tugging until your foot was in her lap. With a featherlight touch, she ran her index finger along the arch of your foot. You squirmed, trying to pull out of her hold. She did it again, tightening her hold, refusing to let you go.

“Agatha,” you whined and she so loved that sound. Her name on your lips was a delight she wasn’t sure she would ever grow tired of.

“Yes, pet?” she asked, still stroking your skin.

“Tickles,” you complained.

She continued for another few moments, enjoying the way you wiggled, the noises of complaint you made, but the way you stopped trying to pull away. She wasn’t lying when she’d told you she had complete control over your body. And the best part was the way you submitted to her so easily. She loved how easily she could take control, and how easily you let it go.

She placed your foot down again, stopping the torture. Holding it in her lap, she began the rocking of the swing again. Your toes flexed against her thigh. When she looked back to you, you were watching her with such a heartbreakingly fond expression on her face. It made her want to bury herself in you.

“So have you learnt how to be a witch?” she asked rather than letting herself examine that too closely.

“Maybe,” you said, “can I try reading your palm?”

“Are you hoping to read my fortunes?” she asked, but she was already presenting her hand to you, turning her body so she was sitting crossed legged across from you. You moved your body to mirror her.

“Perhaps I just want to know if fate knows what I know,” you said, taking it in both of yours.

“And what do you know?” she asked.

You flashed her a smile.

“That our lives will be entwined forever.”

You bent your head over her palm, fingertips tracing over whatever you saw there. She let herself study you as you did, the way she had lost hours to in her office, in her bed, on her couch. Every time she found something new in your features, something new to enjoy, something new that delighted her. Your face was more familiar to her than her own, and yet she couldn’t look away.

“So there’s your life line,” you said, finger brushing her skin like she was something precious, “it’s nice and long so you’ll probably live forever.”

You glanced up at her, grinning. Her own smile was an automatic response. Your fingertips were still brushing over her palm, making her head spin.

“It says you’re vibrant and full of life. No breaks in it either so you should have good health. No need for that nurses outfit I bought then.”

Her fingers closed around yours, holding them still.

“And when did you have time to go buy a nurse outfit?” she asked.

“A few years ago for halloween,” you replied, “I got a lot of free drinks in it.”

She gritted her teeth, knowing it was irrational to be mad about any liaisons you’d had before meeting her but just the thought of anyone looking at you with lust had her blood boiling. You were hers, and if she had her way, everyone would know that. She’d have her name branded over your skin and ensure anyone who looked at you felt the fear they should. No one crossed her and no one coveted what was hers.

Not when it came to you.

“And you wanted to wear it for me?” she asked through her gritted teeth.

“I thought you might like it,” you said, looking at her through your eyelashes.

Oh, you could ruin her with just that look.

“Of course, maybe you’d prefer me in something else,” you said, “I could dress up as a witch for you if you’d like.”

“You think I’d like you to dress up for me?” she asked.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t like to see me in my sexy little outfits?”

You were playing with fire. You had to know that. And yet you kept smiling at her like you were some kind of fucking angel.

“Go back to your palm reading,” she said, rather than giving you an answer.

You lingered, eyes sparkling at her, before looking down at her palm once again. She released your wandering fingers. You began tracing her skin again.

“The head line. A nice long clear line. You’re clever, but then, everyone knows that. A brilliant mind for a brilliant woman.” Your voice was so soft, “but this curve means you’re creative.”

Your lips ticked up and she was desperate to know what you were thinking. She could have asked but the answer might shatter her.

“And there’s your fate line. It starts where your life line does, speaking to your ambition and self-confidence. It’s not very clear though, so you might not have good luck. I think.”

Your self deprecating chuckle was familiar to her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. She knew you so well.

“Your marriage line is short so you might never get married and if you do it’ll be later in life.”

She felt her breath catch.

“And then there’s your love line.” You glanced up at her again before returning back to her hand, “interesting. Very interesting.”

“What is?” she asked, surprised how much she wanted to hear your answer.

“This says you’re going to have a happy long love.” Your fingers were still stroking over her skin, “and that you’re an exceptional lover.”

“It does not,” she said but she was smiling.

“It does. Right here.”

You tilted her palm towards her, your finger running along one of the line on her palm. She looked at it, more focused on the look of your skin against hers. You stroked her palm again and tilted it back towards yourself, holding it in your lap like it was something to be treasured.

“And then hand shape matters too,” you said.

You had begun to draw patterns on her palm, and she could see the cogs working in your brain. The book was still in your lap, just underneath her hand, the image of a palm facing up towards you. She wished she had a window into your brain, that she could rifle through your thoughts the way she could through that book.

“Agatha,” you said, voice quiet and she knew you weren’t about to tell her about her hand shape.

“Yes, pet?” she asked, bracing for whatever was about to come out of your mouth.

“Who’s Wanda?”

She hadn’t braced well enough.

It was like being kicked in the gut, her breath rushing out of her. Her ribs ached and heart was squeezing hard. It was as if her vision was tunnelling, focused on that one point of contact between you, her hand and yours and that damned book. She should have never sent you to go get it.

“Where did you get that name?” she asked, her voice not sounding her own.

You flinched back, hands dropping hers and you looked up at her. Your wide eyed innocence wasn’t what she wanted to see.

“Rio. She said… she said I should know what happened,” you said.

“She had no right,” she snarled.

Her anger propelled her out of the swing, leaving you behind as she tried to get a handle on the emotions coursing through her body. You stayed behind, giving her space, not drawing closer the way you often did.

“Is she why you hate Rio?” you asked.

“No,” she said, “that’s a different issue entirely.”

The swing creaked. She couldn’t look at you, not when there was still so much anger in her. If she did she might break you, irreversibly, and just the thought of destroying you had her seizing with panic. So it was better she continued looking out over her garden rather than face you.

“Why can’t you tell me?”

Her eyes squeezed shut, not liking how lost you sounded. There was so much you didn’t understand, so much she hadn’t told you. It wasn’t lying. It wasn’t. She’d been waiting.

She’d had to be sure you wouldn’t be like Wanda.

“Is it really that bad?” you asked.

“Does it matter?”

She turned to you. You’d pulled your knees up, curling your arms around your legs, chin resting on top. Watching her with those big sad eyes that she was certain could get her to do anything, you were so solemn. Her fingers clenched at her side, fighting against the impulse to reach out.

“She was your student, right?” you asked, “I know there were others, that I’m not the first.”

“Rio shouldn’t have told you that,” she said.

“I’m glad she did. I want to know,” you said.

She turned her face away from you, leaning back against the railing.

“And it doesn’t matter. Because I know I’ll be the last one.”

Her head snapped towards you. You were still watching her, so serious, and so perfect. She had no idea how something so lovely had landed in her lap.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Just that I plan on never letting you go. No one will come after me. This is it. And if you’re not okay with that I don’t really give a fuck. I’ll convince you if you’re not but there will never be anyone else for me but you,” you said, so fierce. Fire ran through your veins and it left her breathless.

She should have never doubted you.

“Wanda was my student ten years ago. The last student I mentored. I fell in love and she didn’t. When she graduated, and she graduated top of her class under my guidance, she took something from me. The book I’d been working on. She took it and when I confronted her about it she threatened to go to the administration about our relationship,” she said, the secrets finally spilling forth, “last I heard she was married with twin boys. Rio made sure to keep me abreast of her situation.”

“Agatha,” you sighed.

She hated the pity in your voice. Shaking her head, she turned back to the garden.

“She took everything from me. She’s the reason my career has stagnated for so long. I can’t move forward with my research without her destroying me and it feels unfinished so I can’t move on to something new,” she said.

The swing creaked again. She couldn’t bear to look at you, to see the pity she knew would be swimming in your eyes. There was a reason she hadn’t told you. Any weakness couldn’t be shown. She was strong and capable and there were no chinks in her armour. No chance of hurting her.

Arms curled around her body, tugging her towards a warm body. Your chin hooked over her shoulder, tightening your arms around her.

“You didn’t deserve that,” you said, voice soft, but there was steel there.

“No, I didn’t,” she replied.

“I’ll curse her for you,” you offered, “make it so she can’t even say your name.”

“Don’t tempt me, kitten.”

You nuzzled against her neck, lips brushing over her skin. She lent back, letting you hold her up. Pressing a kiss to her skin, you hummed. She let out a long breath, fingers twining through yours.

“Whatever you want, I’ll do it,” you murmured into her neck.

You’d been nothing but good to her. So sweet and so pliable and so accommodating. You were a literal dream for her.

So why was her stomach still roiling?

“Rio had no right to bring this up with you,” she said after a moment of silence.

“She’s had no right to do any of it,” you said.

She spun in your arms, slow as she thought over what she wanted. Mostly, she needed an outlet for her anger and there were no little students around to bear the brunt of it. No, all she had was you.

“You should have walked away when she tried to talk to you,” she said.

“Agatha, she had me pinned to a tree,” you said, fingers gently brushing her hair away from her face.

That was a bit of information you’d failed to mention when reporting back to her.

“She did?” Her fingers caught your chin, forcing you to look at her, “was she flirting with you?”

“Maybe.”

Her hold on you tightened. You shifted your weight from foot to foot but you didn’t try to pull away from her. Your lips parted and you were a picture of temptation.

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me the truth?” she asked, voice lowering.

You were close enough she could feel you shiver.

“I don’t think she was serious about it,” you said.

“You don’t know her like I do,” she said, “such a pretty little thing like you? She could never resist.”

“I’m not that irresistible,” you laughed.

You had no idea.

“Oh my sweet kitten.” Her nails dug in to your skin, “such a good girl. So innocent. You’re a siren call to her. You are everything that tempts her.”

“I’m not that innocent,” you pouted.

“You’re right. She doesn’t know what a naughty pet you can be.”

She spun the two of you, pressing your back into the railing. You gasped and your eyes widened. That was the innocent look she was talking about. It was the one that would drive Rio wild if she saw it. But if anyone was going to corrupt you, it was going to be her.

“Agatha,” you said, voice small and desperate and so delicious she wanted to drown in it.

“But she can’t have you, can she, pet?” she asked, tipping your chin up.

“No,” you said.

“Because you belong to me, don’t you, pet?” she asked.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Then go be a good girl and wait for me on the bed.”

She let you go and stepped back. You lingered a moment, staring into her face, before you scrabbled away, rushing to follow her orders. She watched you, something dark curling through her veins. You paused, looking back at her over your shoulder, her sweater clinging to your curves. With a sly smile, you ran up the stairs, bare legs flashing.

You were in so much trouble.

She flicked the cover of the book closed, wrinkling her nose at the entire thing. Throwing it onto the kitchen counter, she was not being careful with it. If Rio was going to plant a reminder of her presence in her home, she wasn’t going to treat it with any kind of reverence. No, that would be kept all for you.

You were kneeling in the middle of her bed, the sweater pooling around the top of your thighs, hair loose. Teeth were worrying at your lower lip and your eyes were bright. You’d tugged the sleeves over your hands, looking the picture of innocence. You’d understood exactly what she wanted.

She was never letting you go.

“Look at you, following instructions for me,” she murmured, stepping into the room proper.

“Anything for you,” you said.

Her fingertips ghosted over the apple of your cheeks, looking down on you. Your eyes watched her from under lowered lashes, blinking as she let herself touch you. You were so plaint beneath her fingers.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, eyes sweeping over your body.

“Whatever you want,” you replied, sounding so breathless she’d be worried if she didn’t know it was all an act to excite her.

“That’s right, pet. I’ll do whatever I want to you and that pretty pussy between your thighs,” she said.

You made such a wonderful little noise. Leaning down, she let her breath ghost over your lips, grinning when you tipped your face up, straining towards her. She shoved you back, your back hitting the mattress. Crawling over your body, she felt you squirm.

“Are you wet, pet?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” you said.

“Are you making a mess on my cashmere sweater?” she asked.

You made another small noise. Her fingers dipped down, feeling how wet you were, seeking out evidence of you dripping onto her very expensive sweater. She already had a plan of how to punish you for it.

She grinned.

“Would you look at that,” she murmured, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping for me.”

“Want you, Agatha,” you whined.

“You’re always such a desperate little thing. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you if they could get you off,” she said.

“No, no, only you,” you said.

“Don’t lie to me, pet. When Rio had you pinned to that tree I bet you were gagging to have her knuckles deep inside of you. If she offered you’d jump at the chance. You’re such a desperate little slut you don’t care who it is as long as it feels good,” she said, fingers featherlight as they ran through your folds.

“Only you,” you whimpered again, hips bucking into her hand as you tried to urge her on.

“I bet you got yourself off to the feeling of her pinning you to that tree. Was that why you came home so desperate for me? You got down on your knees right there in the kitchen for me because she left you all riled up. Should I send her a thank you note for sending you home in such a state?” she asked, watching you while her fingers brushed over your clit.

“Agatha,” you moaned, fingers clenching in her sheets.

“Or maybe I should offer her a go with you? A nice thank you for all the pleasure I’ve gotten from you. I’m sure you’d enjoy that,” she said, knowing she was being mean but not caring.

“No,” you moaned.

“No you wouldn’t enjoy that? Because I think you would. I think you’re such a slut it doesn’t matter who you’re in bed with. You don’t discriminate as long as they can fuck you good and proper,” she said, “you’re nothing but a dirty whore.”

“Agatha,” you whimpered.

She removed her hand from between your legs, forcing her fingers between your lips. You lapped at her skin, licking away the mess you’d made, sucking on them until your cheeks hollowed. You were watching her, such heat in your eyes it made her feel on fire.

She drew them from between your lips, wiping them dry on the sweater still encasing your body. With swift hands, she tugged it off your body, throwing it aside. Completely bare before her, all she could think of was the way you’d been sauntering around the house all morning like that. Nothing but a thin sweater between her and your body. You were such a little tease, knowing exactly what it would do to her.

“Parading yourself around in front of the gardener like that, I bet you would have let him take you right there on the lawn,” she said, “I bet you would have liked it if I’d watched.”

“There’s no one but you,” you whispered.

She scoffed but her hands were busy on your skin, feeling how soft it was beneath her touch. You arched into her, presenting yourself so beautifully for her. Fingers pinched at your nipples, watching the way your eyes slid closed, lips parting in a soft sigh. You knew how to drive her wild, to tempt her into losing control.

She would not be losing control.

With a strong grip, she manoeuvred you further up the bed. Catching both of your wrists, she lent over the top of you, securing them above your head. You tugged on them, your bonds, finding them unforgiving. Agatha grinned down at you.

“No chance of you slipping away to one of those other beds you warm now. Maybe I’ll leave you tired up here for days, use you to my heart’s content until you’re all fucked out,” she mused, finger tips brushing down your body.

She paused on your nipples, flicking them. You hissed, arching up into her touch, looking at her from under hooded eyelids. That was the look of her pet who thought she was going to get exactly what she wanted. The kind who thought she could get what she wanted by pouting her pretty lips and doing what she was told. The kind that thought she was a good girl.

How wrong you were.

It wasn’t until you were squirming on the mattress, your nipples pinched between her fingers, that she considered what she should do to you first. Spread out for her, bare to her gaze, you were the most beautiful view. She licked a long strip between your breasts.

“You’re so easy, pet. You’d let anyone tie you up like this,” she murmured into your skin.

You shook your head, whimpering when she harshly twisted one of your nipples. You were always so responsive to her, just a sweet little thing for her, just as she knew you would be that first time she laid eyes on you. Every part of you yearned to please her and you’d never made a secret of that fact. It alway sent a thrill through her.

“Should I keep you right here? Never let you escape?” she asked.

“Please,” you begged, “keep me forever.”

Her nose brushed along the soft curve of your breast, lips pressing to your skin. Your spine arched, offering yourself up to her. Such a good pet. Her teeth sunk in, your gasp gratifying. She wanted to see her teeth marks for days to come, your body marked as hers. She’d collar you, her name burned into your skin, make it clear to anyone who so much as glanced at you who you belonged to.

“You are rather beautiful,” she murmured, “I can’t blame them all for wanting you.”

Your fingers clenched around nothing, hips shifting on the mattress. Straddling you, she could see the way your eyes were beginning to glaze over, lips parted as you watched her, breathing growing faster under her hands.

“Who wouldn’t want you?” she asked, still gazing down on you.

She ran her hands down your body, leaving your breasts behind. Your skin was so warm against her palms. She could spend forever touching you and it would never be enough.

“You’re entirely too temping, pet. You have no idea what you do to me,” she said.

“Agatha,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Let me taste you.”

She slipped down your body, strong hands pulling your thighs apart. You were glistening in the afternoon light, so beautiful for her, and all for her. She lingered, drinking in the moment, wanting to feel the power she held.

Burying herself between your legs, she let herself taste you. She would never grow tired of that taste, the way you always exhaled softly, the cant of your hips towards her mouth. You never made it a secret how much you wanted her, how good she made you feel, how much you desired her. Even when she wasn’t between your legs, you desired her. Every single part of her. Even the bits she wasn’t always sure about.

Her fingers dug in as she held your legs open, wider than she knew was comfortable for you, but she didn’t care. She was made to fit between them and she would do what she wanted to get closer. You let out a shuddery breath, hips bucking into her mouth.

Her tongue teased you, grin hidden when you moaned her name. If only all those other stuffy professors could see her good girl, tied up and desperate for her touch. They would be shocked how dirty you could be. That wide eyed innocence was nothing but an act and just knowing she brought out this side of you with so little work was such a turn on.

You were begging her, a constant stream of words. You were writhing against the mattress, hips pressing closer to her. Her lips wrapped around your clit, that wonderful bundle of nerves that had you turning into a babbling mess. She dragged her eyes up your body, finding you watching her already. She flushed, loving being watched by you. Your eyes were the only ones she wanted on her, and just a glance from you could turn her breathless. A lovestruck fool. That’s what you’d turned her into.

It was pathetic.

She stopped going easy on you, turning rough again. This was all your fault. You encouraged everyone to become enamoured with you. She watched the way people looked at you when you walked across campus with her. They feared her but they were drawn to you. And the worst of it was you clearly didn’t realise it.

She wanted to snarl at the crowds of people who looked at you like you were something to covet. Like they wanted you. Like they could have you.

She had to teach you to stop encouraging them.

You cried out her name and she realised without even planning it, she’d made you cum. She’d been distracted, missing it. Too bad for you. You’d just have to go again. And she wouldn’t be stopping until she’d drunk her fill.

You whimpered, straining against your bonds, but you didn’t try and get away from her. She’d trained you so well. You took everything she gave, no questions asked.

She watched the way pleasure played over your face. It was a heady feeling, knowing she was the cause of that. She gave you no time to catch your breath, wanting to watch you. She was greedy, she knew it, but why bother denying herself when she knew you weren’t going to complain. Your legs were trembling, and your breathing was unsteady.

She loved the way you moaned her name.

Your body tensed, hips rising to meet her mouth. She lapped at you, refusing to miss a drop. You whimpered, a soft mewling noise, trying to move your hips away from her. Her hands only held you tighter, bruising your pretty skin, wanting more. She always wanted more of you.

“Agatha,” you pleaded, “it’s too much.”

“It’s too much when I say it’s too much,” she said.

But, looking at your face, the way you were wriggling, the squirming, she sat back on her haunches. And even so, you made a pained noise when she stopped touching you.

You watched her as she got off the bed. Her eyes swept over your body, lingering as she thought about all the things she wanted from you. She ran her fingertips along the arch of your foot, enjoying the way you squirmed.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised.

She considered her collection of toys. She had her favourites but now it was about you. Plucking one up, she turned to you. You were watching her from under hooded eyes, hair sticking to your temple, legs pressed together again. A smirk stretched over her face.

“Come on, pet. Show me how pretty your pussy is,” she said.

You parted your legs again, welcoming her back to her rightful place. The buzz of the vibrator in her hand had your breath hitching.

“Agatha,” you said.

“I know you can do better than that. You’re usually so insatiable. Don’t tell me you don’t want this,” she tutted.

When she pressed the vibrator between your legs, a strangled groan came from your lips. Your hips were already rising to meet it, squirming as you rolled against it. She held it there, watching you rut against her like the animal you were. All those crowds of people had no idea you were such a desperate little slut. That you would do anything to get your orgasm.

That you would do anything to get her to give you an orgasm.

She lent forward, capturing one nipple between her lips. She was harsh with you, refusing to be gentle, to go easy on you. This was what you deserved, welcoming Rio into your life to flirt and stir up trouble. That woman would never do this to you. She’d make sure of it.

You were arching up into her mouth, giving her everything. There was no chance anyone else was ever going to have you like this. No one else deserved to see you like this. This was only for her.

The noise you made was music to her ears. It only made her press the toy against you harder. You were whimpering above her, shuddering, tugging on your bonds. She let her teeth sink in to your skin, tasting you, ignoring the way you whined.

Your legs were pushing together, her hand caught between them. Tutting, she sat up again. Leaving the vibrator between your legs, she shuffled down the mattress. Catching one ankle, she tugged it towards the corner of the bed, securing it in place. You were looking at her with big pleading eyes but she ignored you, doing the same with the other ankle. You were spread out for her, swollen and dripping, making a mess of the sheets.

“No point complaining now, pet. You’re the desperate little slut willing to do anything for an orgasm. I’m just giving you exactly what you want. You don’t get to decide how many you get. Just be thankful I’m so willing to indulge you,” she said.

You made such a small noise, soft and sweet and so pathetic it made her grin. She swept her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness. Her tongue dragged up her finger before sliding it between her lips. Her other hand found the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit, harsh, unrelenting, forcing you to feel more.

Even as you made those noises your hips kept rolling against the vibrator, grinding against it. It was like you couldn’t help it. Even when it was too much you wanted more.

She wouldn’t survive losing you.

Your back arched up off the mattress, almost bowing in half. Her name was barely intelligible on your lips but she knew. You only saw her. She was the only one to you. And she was going to make sure it stayed that way.

She slipped between your legs again, needing to taste you again. You whimpered but you didn’t argue this time. You were so well trained.

She lavished attention on you, tasting deeper, her tongue teasing at your entrance. Your eyes were squeezed closed but she could see the tear slipping down into your hair.

“Come on, pet. You can give me one more, can’t you?” she asked.

You nodded your head. She sucked a bruise into the skin over your hip, knowing she’d want to see it later. Returning to your throbbing core, she let her tongue penetrate you, licking deeper. She wanted to feel it this time.

When your internal muscles clenched and you made a broken noise above her, she knew. Turning off the vibrator in her hand, she tossed it aside, pressing a chaste kiss to your swollen clit. You shifted your hips away, but it was sluggish.

She was gentle as she moved down your legs, untying you. Her hands were soft as they stroked over your skin. Pressing soft kisses to your skin, she climbed up your body. She tugged the bonds off your wrists, lowering your arms. Your wrists were rubbed raw, bruises already forming on your skin. You shuffled closer to her, boneless and graceless, letting her rub the circulation back to your hands.

“You did so well for me,” she murmured.

You mumbled something, too quiet for her to hear. She pressed kisses to the top of your head, keeping you resting against her body. Her fingers ran through your hair, untangling the knots she knew she’d caused.

“I’ll be back in a second,” she said after a while.

“‘Kay,” you said, sounding so tired.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, gazing down at you. You were so soft and malleable, worn out from everything she’d put you through. She would happily spend the rest of her life seeing you like this.

You were everything she’d ever wanted. She ached with it, how much she wanted you. Not even just sexually. It was everything about you that she wanted at all times of the day. Even the few times you weren’t with her, she missed you. It was ruining her.

You were ruining her.

With a warm flannel she cleaned you up, careful with your body. You let her, so pliable in this state. She pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, nose nuzzling at your skin. You giggled, quiet, a little slurred. She tossed the flannel aside and crawled back up to you.

Her arms curled around you, letting you sprawl over her chest. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck, your breath ghosting over her skin. She trailed her fingertips up and down your spine, feeling you melt against her.

“No one even comes close to comparing to you,” she whispered, not sure if you could hear her.

Your lips brushed against her skin and you let out a soft sigh. She tightened her arms around you, refusing to let go. You burrowed closer, needy for her. She kept pressing kisses to your hairline, listening to your breathing, stroking your skin.

“Do you really think I’m irresistible?” you asked after some time had passed.

“You have no idea,” she replied.

You made a pleased little sound, wiggling closer.

“You know it doesn’t matter because no one will ever replace you, right?” you asked.

“I know,” she said, and it was so easy to believe it.

Your head tilted up and she felt you kiss the underside of her jaw. She threaded her fingers through yours, holding your hand.

“You know, you never finished reading my palm,” she said, looking down at your joined hands.

“What?” You sounded so sweetly confused.

“You said hand shape matters. So what hand shape do I have, kitten?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” You tilted your chin up to look her in the face, “as long as we’re together you’re going to have a wonderful life.”

Maybe you could read the future because that sounded accurate to her. With you by her side, the future looked so much brighter than she ever could have expected. She couldn’t wait to experience it with you.

[saetoru]

COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE PREMIER OF PURE FILTH UNDER THE HALLOWEEN MOON!! WATCH IF YOU DARE!!

♱ — information. welcome to my kinktober 2023 !! warnings will be added to each individual fic so please make sure to pay attention to them beforehand. minors are not to interact with this post or with any of the posts for this event. if you are an ageless blog—as in: your age is not somewhere accessibly viewable on your blog—do not interact or you will be blocked

♱ — DAY ONE : GOJO & GETO + THREESOMES

RATE MY PROFESSOR! — you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course

♱ — DAY TWO : GETO SUGURU + OVERSTIMULATION

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — befriending nanako and mimiko has perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but thag doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

♱ — DAY THREE : AL-HAITHAM + APHRODISIACS

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

♱ — DAY FOUR : FUSHIGURO TOJI + AGE GAPS

your neighbor’s wife is an unpleasant old hag, always nagging and always screaming at him for god knows what. you think that toji, with how hot he is, deserves someone better than her—and you’re the perfect candidate: young, cool, and definitely not nagging

♱ — DAY FIVE : TARTAGLIA + MONSTER FUCKING

they say there’s a terrible beast that lives deeper into the woods, to never step foot there lest you get caught and devoured. but you agree when your friends dare you to venture there—it’s just a myth, right? wrong. it’s not a myth, and the beast is very, very real

property of saetoru. do not copy, repost, or translate my works anywhere

[heartfullofleeches]

Horror Femboy Darling who lives in a community chalk full of terrifying beasts and gets picked on by their peers for being too cute. They abandon their home and friends - swearing to never return until they scare the living daylights of every human they cross. Only problem with their plans is that they're just as cute if not moreso to mortals. Darling is unsuccessful in their ventures, but they refuse to face everyone with their goals unfulfilled and be subjected to a life as nothing more than a cute face. Even if they gave up and tried to go back home, their "victims" won't let them off the hook so easily. They've grown attached to the little terror trying their hardest to scare them to death. Darling may not be able to fright the humans, but they certainly have an effect on them that's just as deadly as they try to make themselves out to be

-

Horror Darling: You're terrified of me, right? Right?! My face is one that strikes fear into the depths of your soul - say it or I'll eat you alive!

Yan: Ohhh, nooo - please don't devour me, oh wicked spirit.

Horror Darling: T-that's not funny! I may not look like it, but I can your worst nightmare if you don't stop picking on me!

Yan: If you're what nightmares are made of them I never want to wake up again.

Horror Darling, tearing up: Please... I just wanna go home....

Yan: Oh, baby... You're already home. I'll treat you good - better than all your little friends who made you feel ashamed of what you are.

Horror Darling: Eh?! N-no thank you.... T-this was a stupid idea anyway. I'm sure everyone is worried sick - so I really should go home now....

Yan: I'm afraid you aren't going anywhere, Darling. You really think I'm gonna let a cute thing like yourself go when you're the one who invited themselves into my home?

Horror Darling: This was a mistake. A huge mistake- S-somebody will come looking for me!

Yan: After you told them you'd never come back? Face it, love - You're all mine~

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love. 

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

.

.

.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

.

.

.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. 

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon). 

.

.

.

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

.

.

.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

.

.

.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to. 

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

.

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed. 

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

.

.

.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. 

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees. 

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

.

.

.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

.

.

.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. 

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

.

.

.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same. 

.

.

.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. 

So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he���s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

[tojikai]

LIKE A PRO!

Pairing: Toji x reader

tags/cw: 🌽star!toji, 🌽star!femreader, nsfw, alot. ykwim.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: i was writing something else but i can't stop thinking abt this soo. i just feel like writing smut. i miss toji sm.

“Looks like I’ll be coming over even without your manager's invitation.” 

🌽star! Toji who’s very in demand so he’s very picky with who he films with but you were surprised to see him arrive early when your agency made him an offer, eyeing you like a piece of meat and he’s a tiger that hasn’t eaten for months, ready to devour you the moment you get close enough.

When you entered the studio, you smiled at the crew as they offered to carry your bags. You were very professional and punctual especially when it comes to work so you made sure to arrive early. The fact that your partner was still tentative didn’t help with the tension. As an actress, you want to know thoroughly who you work with to make the scenes more effective. Having no idea who it is or how they are made you feel like you’re patting around the dark.

“Very early, huh? Excited to see me?” Your soul almost jumped out of your body when you heard a voice behind you. It was a deep yet velvety voice, sending shivers down your spine and vibrations to your core. You turned around only to be met by a naked chest. Your brows raised as your eyes traced the contours of his pecs and muscles.

There in front of you was none other than Toji Fushiguro in the flesh.

His hair was shiny and it fell so perfectly on his face. You can’t help but think about how good he’ll look once it’s wet with sweat as he’s panting under you when you ride his dick. He got a toothpick hanging on his lips and you can’t help but feel the squeak on your pussy every time he kisses his teeth. His narrow eyes look down at you like he’s ready to devour you and his nose—GOSH, his nose—tells you that the couch in the middle of the room won’t be the only one you’ll be sitting on later today.

He was only wearing sweatpants that hung dangerously low around his waist, showing his toned abs and v-line. Just from the outline, you can tell you’re gonna be sore after today’s shooting. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken another film right after this if you knew you’d be dealing with something that big. You tried to keep your eyes on his face because it would be embarrassing to get caught ogling your partner not even 5 minutes after arriving at the set but oh well… here you are, listening to his chuckles.

“It’s all yours later,” He whispered seductively as he reached behind you to get his bottle. They were right about him being overly confident. Well, that’s because he’s built like that. You also understand now how he can afford to be picky. “I-I didn't think you'd be early, Mr. Fushiguro!” You laughed awkwardly, extending a hand and he stared at it for a few seconds before taking it and pulling you close, pressing you to his chest. “No need to be so formal. In our line of work it's better to get comfortable early on, don't you think?” You can feel his hand slide deliciously from your back to your ass and you couldn't stop yourself from pressing yourself onto him while he murmurs in your ear. 

He has a point, though. In your field of work, the first thing you do is get comfortable with your partner. You don't have much time to get to know each other so it's better to jump into the business whenever you can. After all, chemistry and intimacy are the capitals for your job. Aside from the kinks, turn-ons and offs, safe words, and restrictions, it's also good to get used to conversing with each other so the script flows more naturally.  

“Well, yeah. That's right. I was just starstruck that the “picky” Mr. Fushiguro agreed to film with a rising star like me.” Your voice sounded sweet as you pressed yourself further to him, arching your back as you felt his hand slightly caress its skin. The smirk that formed on his lips sent tingles to your clit and that was enough for you to press your legs together, biting your lip. “Who wouldn't agree when the partner’s this pretty?” He squeezed your bum lightly, 

“We wouldn’t be filming until late noon, the director didn’t think Mr. Fushiguro would be here so he’s settling some things with the backup.” Looking back at the assistant and the people murmuring as some of them cleared the set, Toji’s smirk got bigger. You stared at his lips, wondering how that scar would feel on your skin. And before you could look away, you were caught by his eyes which seemed to have gotten darker at the opportunity.

You’re usually very professional when filming, but this man doesn’t come unless the partner makes him feel like…cumming. This is barely work to him. 

“How about I orient you with what I wanna happen first?” 

And now, your legs are wide open on a couch that was supposed to be used later, moaning his name as his fingers move in and out of your sopping wet cunt.

“Toji…” You moaned, watching his fingers diddle with your bud for a few seconds before being shoved back in again. He already made you squirt and it hasn’t even been 30 minutes since you’ve met. “I thought this clit only looks nice in the films.” He commented, smirking up at you as he places a kiss on it. 

“Oh my gosh…” You panted, leaning on your elbows, not wanting to miss a movement. Tongue darting out, he traced the sides of your pearl, moaning as he took it all in his mouth. The vibrations almost sent you to the edge again as you tried to press his face closer to you. You thanked the heavens that the crew chose to go out for a break and only a few were left outside. It’s not like they wouldn’t be seeing this later but getting caught like this makes you feel shy.

Taking his fingers out, you can feel Toji harden his tongue on your bud before he drags it down to your hole. “Ah!” You pouted at him, hissing at the feeling of his wet muscles exploring your insides. The way he moves it around makes you circle your hips, grinding your pearl on his nose and making him growl. “I knew this pussy would taste this good when I saw it.” You blushed, thinking about how he watched your videos. 

The thought of having him holding his cock as he jerks off on your clip makes you wetter than you already are. 

Kissing your clit one more time, he moved up to your lips, kissing you like he wasn’t here to fuck you like an animal later. “Mmm, both your lips taste so good, Mami.” He moaned, pressing your cheek as he coaxed you to open your mouth. You let him slip his tongue inside you, panting as he allowed you to suck on it before slapping your cheek lightly as he pulled away “Such a good slut,” He tapped your tit before pulling your chest to him, skillful tongue circling your sensitive nipples as his fingers played with the other one. 

“Yeah….” You moaned, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead as he licked your button with the tip of his tongue. His eyes stared menacingly at you before you felt his finger caressing your slit again. He indulged in the way your brows bumped together when he sucked your nipples hard, pulling before letting go with a pop. 

Your hand found purchase on his still-clothed cock, painfully wanting to be let out of its confinement. “You wanna taste? Go on, Mami. It’s been waiting for you.” He chuckled, pulling his phone before filming you as you slowly pulled his sweatpants down. “Gotta have a little tip for me, yeah? Gotta have my own personal clip of this pretty mouth around my cock? Go on, baby.” The way he said ‘baby’ made your pussy clench as you squatted in front of him, naked cunt exposed to the air as you kissed the tip of his dick. 

“Yeah, spread those legs as you suck my dick. Show me how nasty this makes you feel, Ma.” You moaned, tongue sticking out as you licked his shaft, hand cupping his balls before you took it all in your moan. Toji grunted at the move, cursing at how you escalated things quickly from kitten licks to deep-throating him in an instant. “I gotta talk to the director too. How dare he take so long in inviting me to fuck this mouth.” He chuckled, pulling you by your hair to sit down on the couch.

You eagerly took it back in your mouth, letting your tongue trace the vein under his length. You whimpered as you felt him reach over to tweak your nipple with his fingers. “You’re such a whore for my dick, yeah?” He hissed as you bobbed your head up and down, pulling your lips back to prevent your teeth from touching his skin. Not long after, you can feel Toji’s thighs tensing under your touch and he was already pulling you away from him.

“Uh uh, not yet.” He whispered, throwing his phone away before dragging you on the couch. You instantly opened your legs, staring at him with lust and hunger in your eyes as you licked your lip. Toji watched as you spread your plump lips, showing him your entrance as if silently begging him to ram his heavy dick into you. He would’ve taken a picture if only his knees weren’t going weak from holding back.

“You just can’t wait, huh?” He rubbed the tip at the tender flesh of your core making you whimper, grinding your hips as you pleaded repeatedly “Please,” He cooed at your state, putting a hand behind your head before capturing your lips and shoving his thick erection inside your waiting cunt. You moaned in the kiss, feeling the pleasurable burn as he stretched you with his girth. He slowly moved in and out of you, groaning at the tightness before breaking the kiss only to urge you to watch as your heat took his length.

“Look at that, doll. Look how perfectly it fits inside you.” He moans, mocking your whimpers as he gradually went faster until he was slamming into you. His strong hands push your knees to your shoulder, squeezing your bouncing tits. You shamelessly called out his name, not caring if the staff could hear the two of you getting it on already. Hell, you don’t even care if they start filming now. 

“Yeah, wanna let them know I can’t hold myself around you, huh?” He growled, sweat dripping down his face as he parted your folds with his fingers. “Is that why you’re being so loud?” You can feel his fat tip nudge your g-spot, making you scream as you explode. “Oh gosh, T-toji—” You chanted, feeling his cock slip out, or rather get pushed out as you squirted on him, making him chuckle as he rubbed your bud quickly before pulling your hand and switching positions. 

“Messy doll.” He teased you, watching your body twitch as he laid down, placing you on top of him and you found yourself mindlessly rubbing yourself on his cock before swiftly sliding it in with a soft cry. “That’s it, fuck yourself on me, Mami. Show me how much you want my cum, yeah?” He reached for your tits, rubbing the pebbled flesh as you rolled your hips on top of him, hands caressing his glistening skin as you breathed out his name. 

Toji felt hasn’t felt like fucking a coworker before until he had your name on the email he got. Seeing your mouth open, and your glazed eyes as your body bounces on top of him got him hoping this wouldn’t be the last. If it was, he’ll make a way to fuck you again. Toji’s hand slid down your body to your swollen nub, drawing figures with his thumb as he shallowly thrust up to you, restraining himself from letting go and fully ravishing your body. 

It was when you leaned back, arching your body as you parted your legs wider that he lost control, ramming up to you like a madman as a rumble erupted from his throat. “You’re really asking for it, doll.” He put his hand on your hips for support as he fucks himself up in you, chuckling as you hit those high notes, and breathing harder as he hit the exact spot inside you. 

You looked so breedable, so cock drunk as he pounds into you, whining his name as you frowned in pleasure and struggled to keep your body from falling to the side.

“Toji.. keep doing that.” You whimpered, throwing your head back as you let him use your body as he pleases. Desperate for release, Toji sat up and laid you down without taking his pulsating length out of you. You can tell how much he’s trying to stop himself from coming, enjoying how you squeeze his throbbing cock every time he shoves himself in you. 

Yelping as he folds you in a mating press, Toji couldn’t even afford to let you breathe as he hammered his dick into you. “Oh fuck!” You cried, feeling him reach deeper into the new position. His face contorted like he was in pain as he repeatedly buried himself inside you, bullying your cunt as put half his weight on you.

“Gonna cum inside you, doll.” He panted, pressing his forehead against yours and smiling when you nodded frantically with teary eyes. “Gonna fill you up so good, you’re going to be asking for it again later.” The sound of your skin slapping against each other echoed around the room. Feeling his hips stutter, you pouted up at him, “Give it to me, please, Toji. Pretty please.” You breathed against his lips. 

As his thrusts went shallow, you could feel his tip rub the sweet spot inside you, making you cry out in pleasure as you cum hard around him. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your thighs trembled. The feeling of your walls spasming and contracting around him sent Toji to the edge. He managed one powerful thrust, hissing as he spilled all his essence deep inside you. You whimpered at the feeling of his warm liquid flooding and painting your insides. 

“So fucking good,” He rasped out before capturing your lips. Panting hard, he savored the feeling of your tight pussy clenching around him. You stayed in that position for a couple of seconds, hearing each other’s shattered breaths before he pulled out, eyes fixated on your winking hole. He licked his lips, smirking as you whined desperately at him. Your hip’s starting to hurt but you can’t bring yourself to care, enjoying the way his eyes glimmer at the sight of his cum leaking out of you.

“Looks like I’ll be coming over even without your manager's invitation.” 

[jinjeriffic]

DC x DP prompt/ficlet

Throwing my hat in the ring with this idea that has been doing the zoomies in my brain for days. The Tim/Danny Accidental Ghost Marriage to Fake Dating to Friends to Lovers AU:

Pariah Dark was a piece of shit. Before his imprisonment, mortals would sometimes manage to bargain with the Ghost King for scraps of power. One of the "standard" deals was to send PD a "Bride" to play with and feed on (because I HC he feeds on fear and pain) and what better way than a little mortal battery that couldn't get away from him? The deal was sealed with a cursed amulet. Now in one instance, the contract was never fulfilled (maybe the petitioner died before he could complete his half) and the amulet was lost. After Pariah was imprisoned and couldn't make deals anymore the knowledge of the rituals needed was gradually forgotten since they didn't work anymore...

Eventually the amulet gets dug up by archeologists (maybe in Egypt or Mesopotamia?) and ends up in a traveling exhibit in Gotham. A Rogue robs the place (Riddler? Two-Face? doesn't really matter). When the Bats show up to foil the robbery, during the fight with the goons a drop of Red Robin's blood gets on the amulet, there's a blinding flash of green light and the amulet is suddenly glued to him.

While everyone is dazed by the ghostly magic flashbang, Fright Knight pops out of a portal, yoinks Red Robin across his saddle and jumps back through the portal before anyone can stop him. Cue the Bats trying to frantically figure out what in the multi-dimensional occult hell happened and where RR went?!

Meanwhile, Danny is disturbed to receive a ghostly missive in his college dorm to tell him that his Mail Order Bride has been delivered to his Ghost Zone Palace and is awaiting him so they can consummate their Unholy Matrimony.

----------------

Danny: Wtf I have to study I don't have time to get MARRIED

Fright Knight: I'm sorry my liege, but according to the laws of ghosts, gods and magic you already ARE

Danny: Wtf. How did this happen?

RR: I would like to know that too

Danny: Oh shit, you're a superhero. Frighty, you can't just kidnap people! Especially not SUPERHEROES!

RR: While that's good to hear, I would really like to know about this supposed marriage..?

FK: I am not aware of the exact details, I was merely summoned to retrieve the Bride of the Ghost King. There used to be standard magical contracts for this, which went into effect when the Bride bled on the King's Token...

RR: Shit

Danny: Hold on, PARIAH got married? Multiple times??

FK: ...but we can always consult the Royal Archivist, if we can dig him out from under the several thousand years worth of paperwork that piled up while there was no King actively ruling...

Danny: Oh ancients, am I gonna have to deal with that?? I have exams to prepare for, dude!

RR: ...the dead still have to do exams? And paperwork?? *horror*

-------------

Some time and explanations later...

Royal Archivist: It took some digging, but I believe I have found the contract in question. You are one Timothy Drake-Wayne, correct?

Tim: Fml

RA: Ahem. The contract was sealed with your mortal blood, as is standard procedure. Congratulations, you are officially King-Consort of the Infinite Realms! Until death do you part, and all that

Danny: Can I see that contract? ...This isn't in English

RA: Oh dear, looks like we will have to schedule your Royal Highness classes in reading cuneiform/hieroglyphics

Tim: Okay, does it say anywhere in that contract how to dissolve it? What's the procedure for a ghost divorce? Fright Knight mentioned the previous king being married multiple times

RA: Well usually, when Pariah tired of a consort he would simply devour their soul...

Danny: Ewwwww I am so not doing that

Tim: I concur. I can't imagine my soul would taste good anyway

Danny: That's what you took from that??

RA: ...but when you die and your soul passes into the Afterlife proper, the contract will be fulfilled. As long as you're not resurrected again.

Tim: Nuts, there goes that loophole

RA: Until then you are the Consort and duty-bound to fulfill his Royal Highness' every whim; ghostly, spiritual, carnal...

Danny: *sinks through the floor in embarrassment*

Tim: Can't he just... release me from the contract? Take the amulet off me or something?

RA: Not without obliterating your soul, no

Danny and Tim: Fuck

--------------

Some time later, while Danny is away consulting other ghosts on possible ways of dissolving the contract, they discover the nasty little clause that if Tim isn't in regular physical contact with Danny the amulet starts draining his life force. To prevent victims from escaping you see... Danny really really hates Pariah right now.

They eventually return to the mortal plane to explain to the Batfam what the hell is going on and that they're still trying to fix it. In the meantime, Danny can't miss any more classes (studying areospace engineering at MIT or sth) and Tim has to stick close to him because of the curse...

Alfred: Oh dear, looks like Master Timothy will have to go to college after all *unflappable British Smugness*

Bruce pulls a lot of strings to fast track Tim getting his high school diploma and let him attend classes with Danny (he's not officially enrolled yet, but Money, Dear Boy). They never know when Danny has to respond to a ghost emergency or Red Robin to a Bat emergency, so they stay pretty much joined at the hip in their civilian lives. Of course there's gonna be rumors. Why did the Wayne CEO suddenly drop everything to go to college? So they make up a story about Danny and Tim having been secret boyfriends for a while and Tim becoming so smitten that he moves with him to Boston...

Cue the fake dates, interviews with magazines, couple photoshoots to really sell the bit... and the two young men gradually becoming friends... and then "Feelings?? But what do I do?? He was forced into this?" etc.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Overtime

This is the second prize in my giveaway for my follower @l3rittany. I hope you enjoy it! TW: Sexual references, AFAB Reader, Clingy, Missed communication

When Charlie offered you the job, you took it without question, with no idea that your ‘boss’ would be the fearsome radio demon himself. You thought you were just helping out an old friend who has done a solid for you once or twice. No idea that your soul could lay in the balance of another life or even its death. However, you would never revoke your word, so slacks and blouses became your life as the hotel's office coordinator. 

Working under Alastor wasn’t that bad; in fact, it was the best work you had ever had. He was precise and articulate with his needs, allowing you to get things done effectively while maintaining your personal life. Not to mention that the hotel had a cast of colorful characters that helped keep the days light and going, something you were grateful for on the more task-filled days. 

You wouldn’t say you were anything like Alastor; you were the polar opposite, as Charlie felt you would compliment Alastor's style, maybe even loosen him up while he helped you maintain a schedule. However, your differences did nothing to stop the growing butterflies you got as your years working with Alastor passed. Such differences only spurred your dream of a long-lasting relationship with the deer man. 

You knew your desires were nothing more than a dream, but time passed, and familiarity was bread. Before you knew it, you and Alastor worked in a tandem like no other. The seamless work between you two only led people in the hotel, and even hell itself, to assume something more was between you. Who is to say there wasn’t more between you two as time passed? Because what you saw as just Alastor being a gentleman of his time, he saw as courting his prized possession. 

Your hard work, dedication, and steadfast loyalty were all Alastor needed to know you were perfect for him—someone who strengthened his weaknesses and he yours. After a year of working with you, he was pleased when a docile routine started that led to these growing feelings. Alastor wanted nothing more than to hold, touch, love, and be with you—something he assumed you also wanted at the same time. 

Alastor only let you touch him after year two of working together. This was his way of telling everyone he was taken. He even went as far as not letting Rosie be all over him as much. However, you see it as Alastor closing off again. You felt lucky that you were still one of his few trusted companions. 

In year three of working together, Alastor began to buy you small trinkets he thought would better your outfits, compliment your eyes, or even make work easier for you. You were one to believe this was just his way of helping you out. A boss looking out for his best employee. Nothing more or less. 

What finally sent Alastor over the edge was year four when he asked you to accompany him to a formal Overlord event. This was going to be his time to debut you and him. Show everyone in hell who you belong to. He had survived years of you being everything he could want, and here he would let everyone know who his powerful love companion was. However, he didn’t expect to see you outside your usual work attire. 

You had gone all out for the event, wanting to make Alastor proud and fueling the fantasy that he adored you as you did him. You wore a dark red dress. The bodice wrapped around your neck with silver tendrils akin to deer horns. The waist was high, showing your curves that led to a high slit just above your thigh. You wore striking silver heels, which made you the perfect height for him. 

All the effort you put into your look was beyond what he had imagined, and Alastor was foaming at the mouth. He had never had these emotions before you entered his life and was starving for you. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, devour you. Everything he knew he could have after he debuted you tonight—his pretty Doe. 

As you took his arm, he felt at ease, a sense of calm washing over him. He felt complete; for once in his life, someone was there with him, accepting him. Smiling softly at you, he led the way to the party that would change the fate of your relationship for life. 

As you arrived, it was clear to everyone how Alastor was displaying you. He was showing that you were his and not to be messed with. Vox was pissed, Val was confused about how he got such a beauty, and Camilla was just tired of all the pissing contests everyone seemed to want to have. However, it became clear through small talk and idle chatter that maybe you and Alastor weren’t entirely on the same page.

When Vox cornered you in hopes of learning secrets about Alastor, you kept calling him boss and friend. When Zestial talked to Alastor, he called you his partner and lifemate. When Val started hitting on you, you turned Alastor away and laughed it off. Alastor was fuming and promised to make a hit on the moth later. 

Your relationship with Alastor was very confusing for all parties involved. Then came the events behind the party: people bidding on land for their claims. All Alastor cared about was the hotel's land; as he put it, ‘I can take whoever else’s land I please when I need it.’ However, you were guessing you were brought here to help with the budget and make sure he didn’t spend too much. 

As the bidding continued, you kept running off numbers to Alastor, and he was starting to get the bigger picture. You weren’t here to be his date but to be his work partner. Then it dawned on him, even if you had died eons before he did, even if you knew of many different customs and cultures. Was it possible you didn’t realize he was courting you? 

As the realization hit, he began laughing to himself. However, the laughter started to grow as he disrupted the entire ordeal. You had no idea he was in love with you, absolutely infatuated. You knew not of his desire to mate with you for life. He was baffled and honestly not shocked, as this was you he was talking about—his diligent little doe who was so good at work but oblivious to his advances. 

He finally understood why you never returned the advances or reached out for him or got him anything. You didn’t realize he wanted you and you alone. He hummed, satisfied with himself for the deduction. Even if he interrupted the party, he didn’t care because now he had a new goal: to get you home and show you how much he cared about you. 

Time ticked slowly; you had grown worried over the silent and now brooding Alastor. His laughing fit had caused everyone to be concerned, worried he would start an all-out brawl. However, he quit and was silent for the rest of the night. He kept you close to him; however, his arm never left your waist, allowing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. 

Once the evening ended, he didn’t stop there. The gentleman in him led you to your room, a soft butterfly kiss to your writs, palm, and cheek. When he pulled away and was greeted by your red face, that was all the confirmation he needed. You felt the same way; you were too shy to admit you loved your boss. Smirking, he allowed himself into your room. 

“Four and a half long years, Dear, and you are informing me now through your reactions that you finally feel the same. Tsk, Tsk, no, you have always felt this way, haven’t you? You are just too shy to admit it.” He looked at you longingly, craving your touch, which he finally had permission to have. 

“Al, where is this all coming from,” You were shocked, to say the least, a dark blush covering your face as he caged you in slowly into your room. 

“I have given you hint after hint, day after day, year after year, about my affection and adoration of you. However, it seems I wasn’t forward enough. So let me try again, yeah. " That sentence alone was all it took. In your brain, you wanted to shout no, that you are just boss and worker, but in your heart, you wanted to scream yes repeatedly. 

Your heart won over as you nodded subtly to his advances, allowing Alastor the right to do everything for you. He quickly pulled you in and accepted the first of many kisses. He was gentle and soft with you. He wanted to do this right, not rough at first. He heard stories, both alive and dead, about those who rushed in and didn’t appreciate all they had. 

Despite his hate for touch, he needed yours now and more than ever. He needed to feel all of you and know you genuinely knew how he felt. His heart was so full of love for you over the last five years that he needed you to know that you were his everything. This love filled him with a yearning for you and only you.

His lips are gentle against yours, each kiss stealing your breath away again and again. You hoped from here on out that they would always feel incredibly soft when he's wrapped around you like this, arms holding you in a soft but tight embrace. He had you melting in his hands.

His movements were slow, as if you have all the time in the world, an eternity, to make each other feel good. He slowly laid you down on the bed, your dress hiking up with your body. Slowly, he began to spread your legs and place himself between them as he hovered above you.

He was slow to undress you both. He started with you, eager to see you bare before him. To feel your soft skin against his own. He gently slid your dress off with your heels, peppering your body with soft kisses. Soon, he was stripping himself of his suit, leaving him just in his briefs above you. Both of you are enamored at the beautiful sights before you. “May I touch you…I am new to this; I only know what I have heard and seen a few times.” You gave a sweet, simple nod to him as his lips moved downwards to meet with your clit.

He makes sure there’s a pillow under your head so you can remain comfortable under his tongue while you place one under your hips to provide easier access to him. As he dived in, it was a sweet release for you both—the feeling of one another's skin as well as the pleasure building from his menstruations.

You sighed deeply, your hand coming to his head, shoving his face deeper into you. You needed him more, all of him, and Alastor was ready to deliver. He held you close, enjoying your taste, scent, and desire for him—something he was so eager for and so needy for. He wanted to love you right, as any gentleman should. 

“Al…Oh, Al fuck….Al, I am going to,” As you began to cum you could feel his horns grow more. Holding on to them, you rutted against his face, chasing your high. As the white behind your eyes pulsed, Alastor was relentless, ensuring he cleaned you thoroughly before pulling himself up. 

As he hovered above your face, covered in your slick, he held your hands above your head softly. He kissed you deeply, smiling at you, allowing your taste to fill your mouth. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek to your chest, then your hands, and he peppered you with love and adoration. He was going to worship you and you alone. 

As you whined for me, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Gently, his hands caressed your body as you wrapped yours around his neck. Eager lips conjoined as you two kissed once again. He was sure one day he would devour you, but for now, this, this was his heaven. Maybe Charlie was right. A soul, even one taken by another, could be redeemed. 

Gently he pulls away and removes his briefs, his cock spriging free. He was eager and ready. Inexperienced or not, he knew one essential thing: a woman should always be pleased first. He smiled gently and lined himself up. When you nodded again to him, he slid in, panting with each inch that passed through you. He immediately loses himself the moment he feels your warm, wet, gummy walls squeezing and sucking him in.

"Oh fuck," He breathes, pelvis connecting with yours as he entirely sits inside you.

You're nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest, trapped under him with willowy arms on either side of you, and there's absolutely no space between you once he pulls your legs up to wrap around his hips. He needs you as close to him as possible. Your breaths mingle as he's working your insides, your nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing with each deep thrust.

You can feel each throb and pulse, the tip of his cock kissing gummy wet walls each time he buries himself inside you. Alastor is enjoying your every reaction, committing each face and sound to his memory for later. Every sigh, gasp, and sweet moan of his name boosts his ego. He's taking care of you because he's making you feel like this. No one else can or will.

"You make me feel so good, Y/N; I need more of you, all of you," He leaned over you, entering you even more deeply. Each thrust hits a new and unexplored spot that sent you squeezing down on him ."You make me feel so good, sweetheart. My Doe.. my sweet Doe."

It's so intimate and romantic that it makes you needy throughout your act. It makes fireworks go off in your stomach. Each kiss is electricity, each thrust is a new breath of air, and each sound is your symphony.

"Alastor-" you hiccup as you look up at him through bleary eyes.

"Yeah, sweet girl? What do you need?" he had all his attention on you, nothing else. All Alastor ever cared about was you.

“More.. please, I need more.” Your pleas didn’t fall on deaf ears as Alastor moaned softly, repositioning you.

His hands quickly move down and grab your hips. He positions them higher, the new angle making him thrust right up against your G-spot, going a little faster than before. As soon as he hears your cries, he falls to a stable rhythm and has your eyes rolling back, gasping for air and making all those perfect sounds.

“Yeah, does that feel good? You like when I’m deep in you like this, fucking you just how you dreamed?” He asks, his voice starting to shake slightly. But you can’t respond. Not when your vocal cords won’t let you, preoccupied with your cute whines and mewls, you do your best not to be too loud for the courtesy of the other hotel residents. All noises resembling speech are mindless babbles, too hung up that you finally have Alastor as much as he had you.

“Shhh, I know. I know, my Doe,” His voice is so quiet and sweet that it almost makes your stomach sick. “Just sit there and take it like the good girl you are. That’s all you have to do.”

The way he is making your pussy flutter makes your stomach flip from hearing his deep moans; he makes your clit ache with need, begging for some friction right about now because all you can think about is cumming around his thick cock. You need to cum so bad, and Alastor, unbeknownst to you, can pick up on it.

 He notices the way you squeeze around him relentlessly, the way you go a little quiet as you try to focus on your orgasm. All gentlemen knew one cardinal rule: Your lady needs to feel good first.

“Open your eyes, dear. Let me see how pretty you look.” You take a moment to process his words before your glossy eyes barely flutter open again. " That’s a good girl. Keep those beautiful eyes on me.”

You feel his hand gripping your hip snake between your legs and down to your wet heat. It was only then that you took notice of the lewd, sloppy sounds coming from the both of you, your combined wetness and sweat creating a loud slap every time his hips met with yours. 

The pad of his thumb gathers some of that slick before pressing against your swollen nub, in turn making you jolt under him. He methodically works your clit in rhythm with his thrusts, and with how worked up you already are, you feel your nether regions burning. You glance down at his hand, working you so effortlessly. The way his cock disappears inside you, taking him so well. Suddenly, you feel so close. So fucking close.

“Please cum for me,” The way he said please and in such a soft tone made you unravel completely. You nodded, the tears welling in your eyes, ready to fall. A grin formed across Alastors face, not his normal one, a new one meant just for you.

“Cum for me, dear; I can feel you are holding back; release for me; let me make you feel good,” He leaned down to pepper small kisses along your soft jawline as his fingers on your clit quickened.

“Al…Al…AL Fuck… I-I’m gonna cum,” You managed to choke out, feeling his hips stutter as your walls pulse around him.

“Let go, sweetheart. Make a mess for me, I’ve got you.” The way he said it so lovingly made you go insane. Was this what you were missing out on for years? You could have had this all along. Why did you wait till now? How foolish were you? 

You feel your hips buck helplessly under him, a cry of pleasure getting ripped straight from your throat as you cum on his cock, your cunt pulsing and gushing around him. Hot tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you bury your face into his neck. Your hearing goes a little fuzzy, but you can make out his lengthy groans as he keeps pounding into you. You writhe in overstimulation below him before his hips stutter again, burying himself inside you with a harsh thrust as his seed shoots out, filling you. 

You sniffle into his neck in the aftermath. You hear him mutter a few soothing words as his lips touch your skin again, but his words fall on deaf ears as you try to catch your breath. Alastor and you were one now; no need for a soul contract. You were just one complete person.

“I love you, Y/N, only you, be my girl,” With a gentle nod from you and a quick soft kiss, those were the last words you could hear before falling asleep in his arms.

[first-edition]

Can I pleeeeease 🙏 have a Duncan Vizla smut where he has a huge breeding kink and reader has a choking kink. So he's choking her while "breeding" her, and she completely blissed out when she orgasms. So she's like fucked dumb and Duncan gets worried. So he gives tooth rotting aftercare.

Your Wish is my command oh kind soul.

Chocking, pin v- unprotected, fem readerserious after care teehee

“elsker” danish word for love

SMUT SMUT SMUT AND NOTHING BUT! Minors do not fucking read this i will sue you

The way Duncan devours you. Every inch ever minute detail of your body. His grunts in your ear as he fucks your life away only making you clench around his cock tighter.

How did you get here? You dont even remember not with your lover shoved in between your thighs and fucking the lights outta your head. The last thing you do rembering is his hands on yours in the kitchen. Now your half way off you bed as he rails you into the mattress.

Your breasts voice as he thrusts himself up into you. Each conflict forcing a pornographic moan out of your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as he grips your thighs, one leg strung over his shoulder the other wrapped around his waist keeping him close to you. You were long passed gripping onto him now you gripped the pillow under you head screaming both out and into the plush material that keeps you from banging your skull against the headboard.

“F-fu-u.. d-Duncan.. ah!” You moan out dribbling words barely being able to form half of one. Your pulsing puffy pussy dripping from his and your shared cum. The amount of stamina this man has for you is otherworldly. Most people down in town always give you looks from the age gap between you and your man. Wondering the most private things about you too.

‘How long would he last with you?’

‘How does he get it up?’

If only they could see you both right now you would answer those questions with out even speaking.

You scream out toes curling as you experience another orgasam a number you lost count of so many ago. Duncan grunts as you grip you walls around him only prompting him to fuck you harder, faster, better. If better is even possible. Every time you have sex he fucks you like he’s missing something trying to save a peice of you for later every time, like the pie he orders in the diner almost every night.

His hand wraps around your neck not to kill you like he would a job, but to satisfy you more.

“Ahh f-fuu” you trail off mouth opening agape as the pure over stimulation causing your legs to shake.

“Fuck yeah.” He speaks. Duncan isn’t usually one for verbalizing his pleausre but when it comes to letting him raw dog you until youre a babbling mess he will not shut up.

“Im gonna fill this tight little pussy, you want that? You want me to budge the fuck outta you- argh.” He moans out holding your neck.

“Ngh…y-ye..yesss. Ah- ah- Ngh-“ your fucked out words barley make it passed your bitten lips.

“Fuck cum again, elsker.��� When he changes to his native language, danish. You know you’ve got him pussy whipped. He goes on and on in Danish and several neighbor languages about how much he wants to fill you. Make you swollen with his. Put many babies inside you and have you waddle around the town so then everyone knows what hes capable of.

Your eyes cross up ward tounge handing out as he continues to annihilate your cunt. Perfectly fucked into another realm and just wanting for more. Your legs seize up when his thumb presses to your clit circling and flicking. It dosnt take long for the stimulation to take effect and a gush of arousal spews from your cunt making you babble out his name and other profanities associated with the pleasures he’s causing you.

“Fuck! Yes baby! Make a mess.” He groans as he forces his hips flush with yours. The head of his cock pushing against your cervix and possibly even deeper as he releases his last load, of what he can tell you can bare, into your cunt.

He lets go of your throat after a few more rough thrusts and kisses your face and jaw. Gazing his lips over your neck the marks for the hickies he left previously.

Your legs shake and you light twitch as the pur and utter sensitivity between your things courses through you. Duncan carefully pulls out of you making sure to be carful of your state.

“So fucking full my love.” He chuckles gathering the dripping cum and shoving it back. Into you with his fingers.

“You alright elsker?” He asks lovingly as he pulls his fingers out and looks to you. You dont answer as you feel numb your vision clouded with tears and little silver sparks flying through your eyes.

“Y/n? My love?” He asks again you dont reply once more only to smile and lick your lips.

“Shit..” Duncan moves up to your face cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“elsker, answer me.” He demands you giggle lightly eyes wandering.

He curses to him self out of relief and worry before getting up and walking to the bathroom. He turns the water on waiting for it to heat up. He quickly cleans himself off before dousing a wash cloth in the hot water and then taking it back to you once rung out a bit.

“Can i clean you up?” He asks leaning over you to look you in the face. You nod slightly.

“Good. You coming back to me then?” He chuckles. He runs the cloth down your body to your thighs clean the inner then moving back to your crotch being carful to softly clean you up as he knows just how sensitive you are at the current moment.

When hes done he places the cloth on the side table and slips on his boxers. He picks you up carefully and walks you both to the guest bedroom so he can take the sheets off your bed to clean later.

“Duncan.” You ask him as he carefully sets you onto the bed.

“There she is..fucked you too hard huh?” He asks you shake your head. You hold out your arms for his wrapping them around his neck before you both share a kiss the same undertone that got you in the pervious situation. He places his knee on the bed unaware that it’s between your leg causing his lower thigh to brush against your core.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull back erking at the sensation. You curl up closing your legs an closing your eyes the sensitivity slowly disaperating from your nerves.

“Sorry.” He says. You shake your head signally it’s okay, not nessisarly his fault, it is.

“I’ll draw you a bath.” He says. Duncan get up and goes to the bathroom in the guest room and begins to fill up the tub once more waiting for the water to heat up. Once full he exits and goes back to you. Your nude frame sitting on the bed perfect to his veiw but he knows if he were to be tempted by your beauty once more you’d kill him.

“Come on.” He says helping you up. Your legs give out from under you only prompting him to easily pick you up in his arms and carry you the rest of the way.

He sets you gentally in the bath water exactly how you like it showering you in kisses and words of affirmation. He sits on the tiled floor running another cloth over your shoulders helping you.

Once done he helps you dry and dress before quickly leaving you to take a short shower dry and dress himself. He joins you in bed and pulls you close to him speaking to you about how much he loves you and how good you were for him. You eventually fall asleep holding him back. He watches you for a moment before sleep take him over as well.

I hope you liked this. Duncan vizla is daddy and will be the father of my children!! I swear to god. If anyone has any more requests feel free to leave them in the comment section or send a message like this one. I’ll write pretty much anything but i do have my boundaries.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Who Dares Summon Me: Human Vaggie & Charlie

Vaggie: (sitting in the living room of a piece of shit apartment and reading from a "demon summoning" book. the sound of gunfire and police sirens barely even registers to her ears anymore)

Vaggie: Okay, so I got the Pentagram, a goat (glances at two goat plushies she stole from a name brand toy store) Fuckers will live..... they make millions in a day.

Vaggie: Candles... (glances at the Bath & Body Works, cinnamon and vanilla scented candles)

Vaggie: And... blood.... uh.... (Looks at the bucket filled with water, corn syrup, red food coloring, and cocoa powder to help create a blood effect) Fuck... demons can tell the difference between real and fake blood, right? Dammit.

Vaggie: (cuts her finger with her pocket knife and lets] a few drops fall into the bucket) There. That should work. Now, let's see-

Lute: (comes out of her room half naked and throws a pair of panties at Vaggie) Yo, Vagina! Adam stole your underwear again as a prank, I guess. Here.

Vaggie: (gawks as she catches the garment and spikes it to the floor) Lute! What the fuck?! Can't you control your fucking boyfriend??? How did he even get into my room?! I keep it locked for that reason.

Lute: (grabs a beer out of the fridge, pops the cap off on the counter, starts chugging, and flips off Vaggie as she returns to her room for whatever round she and Adam are on)

Vaggie: Sick perverted sons of bitches... (turns back to the book) Read the forbidden script and make a pact. (Scoffs) Okay, edge lords. I'll give it a go.

Vaggie: (recites the script with some difficulty)

..........

Vaggie: (relaxes her back against the couch) Can't say I'm surprised. I literally bought this online for six-

-Fire tornado erupts from the Pentagram and burning red eyes stare down at Vaggie from the inferno-

Demon Charlie: WHO dares summon the powerful Princess of Hell- Oh, fuck!!! (Trips over the bucket and falls face first into Vaggie's lap, revealing that she is wearing a red dress with black thigh high stockings)

Vaggie: Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

Demon Charlie: (face still pressed against Vaggie's crotch) You have a very comfortable lap.

Vaggie: (grabs demon's horns and pulls her up so they're sitting in front of each other) You're actually a demon?

Demon Charlie: (blinks) Considering the fact that you're still holding my horns, I have this adorable little tail (waves her heart-shaped tail in hello), and I came straight up from Hell because of your summoning circle. Yup! (Sees the plushies and gasps) Oh! You even gave Razzle and Dazzle their own conduits! You're so sweet!

Vaggie: ...........Who?

Demon Charlie: Razzle and Dazzle! You know. My pets. It's written in chatper six, paragraph five, sentence three. (Snaps her fingers and the two goat plushies turn into two living goat demons with wings)

Vaggie: (scouring the book) What?!

Demon Charlie: (snuggling her boys) Also, I know you had to use a little of your own blood to make this work, which I promise to help heal that cut on your finger by the way, but Thank You So Much for just using fake blood! I always feel so bad when people actually use a bucket of real blood. I usually let my dad take those summonings.

Vaggie: (glances at the bucket rolling across the floor then back to the demon) Y-Youre dad?

Demon Charlie: Lucifer, the King of Hell. (Light bulb goes off) Oh! I never completed my introduction! I'm Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and heir to the throne. Pleased to meet you!

Vaggie: Uh.... Vaggie.... I never would have expected the Princess of Hell to be so..... bubbly....

Demon Charlie: I get that a lot. Now! What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need money? Power? A soul you'd like for me to devour?

Vaggie: N-No... nothing quite like that....

Demon Charlie: Oh, thank Satan! I hate eating souls. Most of them taste so bad!

Vaggie: Uh-huh.... Well.... I don't really have anything for you. I got bored and decided I'd try this out...

Demon Charlie: (disappointed) Really? But you sold me your virginity. Surely, there's something you want in exchange!

Vaggie: I'm sorry. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

Demon Charlie: Drop of virgin blood and (holds up Vaggies lavender panties) an article of clothing that covers your most intimate desire.

Vaggie: (silently screaming)

Demon Charlie: H-Hey! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still a virgin, too! (Under her breath) Not from lack of trying on other asshole's accunts, but still....

Vaggie: Ay, Dios mio!

Demon Charlie: Well, I can't take your payment until you come up with something you want, soooooooo! (Transforms into a human)

Charlie: (snuggles up to Vaggie's side) I'll just have to stay here with you until you come up with something!

Vaggie: (catatonic)

[persicipen]

weapons ノ argenti

ৎ୭ — · · 0.5k ノ afab gn reader — written for @ficsforgaza kinktober ノ praise . compliments . endearments ノ riding argenti’s spear . letting him hold you and guide you <3

You doubt you would let anyone else guide you through what you’re currently attempting to do. Not any mere amount of trust could sit you down on the marble-smooth handle of the spear; no armour to hide your body, not even a tunic or any clothes at all to shield you from the steel intrusion between your legs.

Only your skin. And desire.

“Such courage.” Argenti murmurs into your ear as he strokes the soft curve of your bottom with his hands, almost petting you. Crimson locks running in waves down his shoulders caress you like flowers in the wind. “Now, please, show me the spectacle — how beautiful you look whilst the pleasure engulfs you from the core.”

How you wished to melt into Argenti’s silver chest plate now, beyond what is rational and possible. Painfully aware of the polearm beneath you. When he tells you to lower yourself onto it and press between your legs, you are throbbing with excitement at the contact with the cold metal.

Say, this must feel so enthralling to find pleasure where others find defeat versus the shining knight. He did defeat you once before, after all.

What he took was your heart.

Your body shakes as you ease your hips down to glide gently back and forth, stimulating your folds. It is not as frightening as you thought it would be — steel on bare skin, a real weapon teasing your clit. The touch is far from soft, but you can get used to it. Sink into the warm ripples, guided by his praise, velvet compliments trickling down your silhouette until they reach your sweet spot.

A reward of a crystalline teardrop of arousal lazily getting smeared as you chase the higher satisfaction.

“You are doing so well,” Argenti whispers again.

Perfect, divine, beautiful…

“It is as if you were meant to be riding this spear.” His luscious lips wander to your neck, kissing there every curve and shiver as you take in a ragged breath. “You will be mine, dear one, and I am yours forever.”

Staying on his spear is so tempting that you cannot help but shift your weight forward, finding courage to move faster.

To please the knight, whose irises sparkle emerald green, devouring the image before him; if not for his fist gripping the weapon tighter, you would wonder if there’s really any effect setting his soul ablaze in this very moment.

Yet the thought does not linger, for there are other places on your body that need attention — to be soothed and stroked, fondled until they cry in happiness. Your hands find their way to Argenti’s — a place they know too well, a home for themselves and for you as well.

And so, your eyes shut in awe at the blissful sensation running through your nerves like rosy syrup as you slide against the metal, its shape too similar to what you would love to feel, but made of flesh and pulsating with arousal. No matter, you feel so high, delirious, you could believe the spear is his cock instead.

Euphoria shatters through you like an arrowhead tearing through armour. What used to be icy between your legs now stings like flames, the fever blooming from your core.

You wonder, is this the devotion to which he calls for? Beauty, yes? He finds you gorgeous, then. He grants you what he considers pure and divine.

A release.

[dlldior]

VAIN — a kuro analysis of sebastian's character and his relationship with ciel

hi! so i've been wanting to make an analysis post for SO long but didn't really know where to post it, but tumblr is always here to answer my prayers. i just want to preface this by saying this is all my personal opinion and what i've taken away from the kuroshitsuji manga. there are so many layers to sebastian's character and his relationship with ciel, so many angles to analyse it from, they are extremely complex characters so there isn't one true take of their characterisation.

i'd be happy to discuss any disagreements or even other opinions you might have with my points in a civil manner. that's the beauty of media literacy!

my take on sebastian character!

sebastian is a really interesting character. being the main protagonist of black butler, it's surprising we don't know much of his origin or past—all we have of his character is how he behaves and interacts with characters now, and i'd like to further delve into this.

but from what we do know, sebastian is a hyper narcissist. he's unable to feel shame and thinks he is above everyone else; as illustrated and stated by the creator. most of sebastian's character is revealed through his relationship with ciel—which is the main centrepiece of the story—and how he behaves with him, as ciel is the only person (aside from the obvious exceptions) aware of sebastian's true nature and intentions. despite his "caring" facade towards ciel, sebastian is simply acting on the contract for his own best interest, and even ciel is aware of this fact which is why he rarely lets his guard down around him. his great means to preserve ciel's life is to preserve his soul, after spending the last 3 years cultivating it for him to devour after fulfilling their contract.

sebastian is too wrapped up in his own affairs and self-absored nature to even consider other people's concerns. he only feigns care for ciel due to his duties as a butler and maintaining the "aesthetic". the reason why he's so comfortable being in such a subservient position is because he knows deep down that he is above all humans. the best way i can describe this is a little odd but it's like when celebrities work at minimum wage jobs just because they can, not because they need to but because they know they're above these types of jobs with their level of wealth. they willingly put themselves in these degrading positions as they're comfortable enough with their wealth to be able to for fun. that is sebastian's case. he is comfortable enough with his power and tact as a demon to be able to don a tailcoat and play as a servant to the very species he sees himself above.

on top of that, sebastian appears to believe he is above those of his own kind, claiming that such gluttony goes against his demon "aesthetics" which is why he has invested so much time into cultivating ciel's soul instead of feeding off of multiple contracts. it reveals why sebastian is so into the "butler aesthetic" and finding himself in such a degrading position for one of his own kind. he seems to prioritise elegance, not greed, when it comes to fulfilling contracts.

however, sebastian's true nature is more prominent in the flashback sequence where ciel first summons him. he is extremely cocky, trying to manipulate ciel for a quick and easy kill such as when he was eager to kill everyone who has caused him harm, which does, in fact, reveal that he is not unlike most demons. the reason why sebastian picks such an appearance all ties into his narcissism, he gets off on impressing humans with his supernatural skills and ciel is only one who seems to understand that part of him, but it's always played off for comedic effect. sebastian soaks up in the praise he is given by these "puny" humans, always hanging onto their last words of flattery which reveals his true vain nature and that he is not as elegant and collected as he seems.

the fandom's take on sebastian!

i think the reason why the fandom is so fixated on sebastian's character is due to a myriad of factors. it can be due to how well he's able to play his facade; he's charming in a way and knows how to use his words to get into people's good graces, wielding his "elegance" and "aesthetics" to his advantage. as sebastian is forced to pretend to be human for the sake of their contract, he is able to analyse the qualities in people that others would want to see and apply that to himself. he's able to feign morality and charisma—partly due to his butler aesthetics but also for his own self-serving nature and receiving praise.

another reason why i think sebastian is the most popular character amongst the fandom is, yep, you've guessed it, his appearance. sebastian's appearance is no accident—both in his character's creation and the form he chose for himself in the story—he wields his sexuality and attractiveness to his advantage. his true nature and appearance are disgusting and unsightly, which is why he covers it up with a beautiful face; making it easier to deceive and manipulate.

however, the issue is with the fandom is that i think sebastian has the epidemic of what i like to call "attractive justification syndrome" where the fandom goes to great lengths to justify sebastian's actions and refusing to acknowledge his character for what it is—a self-absorbed, predatory narcissist—because he's attractive. however, sebastian is BEYOND morality and clearly lacks any remorse of his irredeemable actions. he doesn't feel shame and doesn't care to; i feel as though just because he's attractive, fans try too hard to defend him. don't get me wrong, i enjoy sebastian's character as well and i'm no different in admitting he is attractive, but i think he's extremely interesting and does explore different ideas of morality (more so, lack thereof) but i think it's rather off base to try and defend his character.

i think the bigger issue is that people tend to think enjoying his character says something about them, instead of what it says about the story. they're too afraid of liking his character for what it is. as they're scared of what that'd say about them for liking such a terrible person of a character. on tiktok especially, i feel like many fans sometimes try a bit too hard to have a moral high ground that they refuse to acknowledge the darker side of sebastian's character as then there goes their reason for liking him.

the anime adaptation doesn't help with this issue either for why sebastian's true character has been heavily lost. i feel as though they're eager to add some sort of movement or emotional depth to his character, which defeats the purpose of it. sebastian has a very static character, he doesn't have the emotional capabilites to feel empathy, he can sure as hell pretend, but at the end of the day, he's only here for his own best interest.

this is especially evident in the translation change in the public school arc where in the anime, sebastian justifies protecting ciel instead of chasing after undertaker because "he's spend too long raising him", whereas in the manga, sebastian justifies it for the true reason, which is because he's "spent too long cultivating his soul and won't let himself be robbed of it". there is a distinct difference as in the anime, sebastian appears to care for ciel's actual wellbeing, whereas in the manga, sebastian has established the foundation of the contract and how he's only preserving ciel's life for his soul.

anime translation

manga translation

my take on sebastian and ciel's relationship!

it is no surprise to say that their relationship is extremely unhealthy. due to the imbalance of power dynamics between them, there will never reach a point that their relationship turns healthy. it may look like ciel wields the power through their master-servant dynamic, but peeling away at this layer will reveal the foundation of their dynamic, being human-demon. but these are obvious points. sebastian wields his power as a demon to subtly manipulate ciel—his suffering and misery acting as a marinade for his soul. sebastian has no interest in ciel's wellbeing and, in fact, goes out of his way to contribute to his trauma.

a good example of this would be in book of circus during ciel's ptsd attack where he relives his trauma of seeing his brother be murdered in front of him. ciel is completely vulnerable, reaching out helplessly for anyone to help him and sebastian feeds off of his misery, caressing this child's vomit-coated lip and getting him to call his name when he is unable to speak. the scene is extremely grotesque and uncomfortable to watch as we see this adult practically looming over this defenceless, traumatised child who his gripping onto him for support. i usually dislike giving yana credit as she has done a pretty bad job illustrating their relationship with the unnecessary icky fanservice and horrible attempts of incorporating psychosexual elements into the story but i believe this scene was intentionally drawn this way to reveal sebastian's predatory nature. it's supposed to make you feel disgusted as sebastian uses ciel's codependency on him as some sort of power trip, feeding off of his trauma.

i got this point from a wonderful friend who i've analysed the story with, but sebastian is indeed a predator. he is textbook definition grooming ciel. he may not be sexually as grooming falls under the definition of "preparing/training someone for a particular purpose or activity", but his relationship with ciel is for the sole purpose of being able to devour his soul at the end. when sebastian was referring to "cultivating his soul" in the public school arc, he meant spending years using subtle manipulation and grooming tactics to get the desired flavour of ciel's soul.

just because ciel was aware of the terms and conditions of the contract, aware of his impending doom, it doesn't make sebastian's actions of preparing a child for death any more morally fine. the foundation of the contract was never fair; ciel had no choice. it was either sebastian left him to die in the cage, or he was to form a contract with him to gain the power to come back. all the power ciel has is not his, and one day, that power will be stripped from him, and he will have to face the one who gave him this power. it is the reason why ciel does not choose to pursue happiness after coming back, as he knows that if he even gives into the idea, sebastian will automatically assume he's abandoning his revenge and kill him. i'm not saying ciel is devoid of faults either, everyone in this show is morally grey and he can cause his own suffering too, but this is a sebastian-focused rant so i'll go deeper into this some other time.

i think the reason why dadbastian is such a popular headcanon, especially on tumblr, is because it subverts the unhealthy, grotesque aspects of their relationship and provides ciel with a healthy parental figure which he has been needing, giving him the solace he deserves from all his trauma. not to mention, there are scenes in the series where sebastian does act as a parental figure towards ciel. don't get me wrong, i ADORE this headcanon and will go down with it but i think the darker reality of their dynamics in the manga is the reason the headcanon is even more upsetting as we know it will never happen and this child will never get the peace and happiness he deserves.

TLDR; sebastian is a hyper narcissist and is there for nobody's best interest but his own, the only reason he goes to great lengths to preserve ciel's soul is because their contract wouldn't be sustained otherwise. the fandom tries to justify and defend his actions too much due to how well he's built his facade of desired human behaviour and his attractiveness. sebastian contributes to ciel's trauma, subtly manipulating him and mocking him for being taken to his limit. their relationship is extremely unhealthy. dadbastian reigns supreme because it subverts the grotesque factors in their relationship.

thanks for taking the time to read this if you've made it this far! i'd love to hear any of your guys' opinions and takes on their characters.

[kitasgloves]

Follow You

tracklist

— ♬ "I'll be your gravity, you'll be my oxygen"

— ♬ Chuuya Nakahara x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, depictions of stalking, violence, and obsessive behavior, abandonment issues, Chuuya being deranged when he's in love, 3.5k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

There's this hollow feeling that swallows one's whole consciousness like a black hole. It's greedy as it feeds on your light and energy. It leaves you empty, like a void. And to feel that void grow within you as it devours all the remnants of your being, it's a painful tragedy. Nakahara Chuuya felt that void in him widen from time to time. That void was born when he lost those who were close to his heart. By then, he learned how to surround his heart with walls. But there's always something unexpected that would tear those walls down and pierce through his heart.

Chuuya struggled with finding his humanity. As much as his mind reminds him that he is human, his soul isn't convinced. As he grew older and learned how unjust the world is, that void slowly ate away the remainder of his 'humanity'. Chuuya still believed there was an uncontrollable monster in him, a monster that claws at the remnants of his control until it takes over him completely. No matter how many good deeds he performed, it would not erase the feeling. And Chuuya has already accepted long ago that he wasn't a good person, and he's not going to waste his life trying to be one.

What does make one human? Was it your anatomy? Emotions? Consciousness? Or Purpose? The answer seemed to be one of the secrets of the universe. Chuuya doesn't ponder about what the answer will be. He's content where he is now, after all, he's been through a lot. Being an executive in the Port Mafia pays a lot and he can afford the luxury he wants. He has bursts of anger out of nowhere but he's getting the hang of controlling it. He has matured greatly but he knows he has so much to learn.

It was a domino effect when you stepped into Chuuya's life. One look, one smile, and everything came crumbling down. He regretted saving your life at first. You just happened to be an unsuspecting victim caught in a conflict between the Port Mafia and another group. You were caught in the gunfire at a restaurant, and you could've lost your life if it weren't for the gravity manipulator. He shielded you from the bullets and from witnessing the rest of the violence. Chuuya won effortlessly against his enemies while leaving a trail of destruction. But instead of focusing on the bloody disaster the man has left, your eyes glimmered at him.

"Thank you!"

You reached to clasp his hands and smile gratefully at him. Chuuya snarled at you as he snatched his hands back. He scoffed at the idea of you thinking he saved you out of the goodness of his heart. He only did that because you were getting in his way! But somehow, he couldn't look away from your glimmering gaze on him. You were abundant of life and he's sure that you weren't exposed to violence on a daily, unlike him. A tiny part of him wanted to keep it that way, you were just an innocent civilian. He may not be a good man, but he's not a cruel person to inflict his brutality on you.

It began with curiosity. Chuuya looked into your background. You worked at that restaurant, a minimum wage job. You lived alone in a humble apartment. From the looks of it, you were comfortable. Anyone who hasn't suffered so much like him would be content with your lifestyle. You seemed comfortable with your life, something Chuuya was a bit envious of. He can scowl and scoff all he wants but there's nothing he can do about it.

The gravity manipulator squinted his eyes and observed more about you. From what he gathered; you looked average. There was nothing out of place. He found out about the places you frequent, where you went to college and even the hometown you grew up in. He felt invested in finding out about your interests. Dare he says, he's impressed with your taste. It may not show in your appearance, but you had an elegant taste. Whether in music, food, or clothing, Chuuya found himself approving of it. 

He may have intentionally followed you when he wasn't busy and noticed you were shopping for wine. Chuuya can't help but gasp silently at how exquisite your choice of wine was. You were looking at underrated but delectable brands of wine, seemingly conflicted on which to buy. The Mafioso watched you look at one of the price tags and staggered back at how much it cost. He can understand that that brand of wine was way above your budget, but he can feel his chest tighten at your deflated figure walking away without purchasing the bottle of wine.

You noticed a small package delicately wrapped in red ribbon on your front door. You raised a brow and reluctantly brought the package inside. Suspicion filled you since you weren't expecting to receive any packages today. But as you unwrapped the ribbon and saw what was inside, your jaw drops. It was that expensive-ass wine you were eyeing earlier! You couldn't believe your eyes as you inspected the bottle. There was a tiny note attached to it.

Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart - C

You admit that the message left you both flushed but more suspicious. You took out one of your wine glasses and did a taste test. Your tastebuds screamed with delight at how delectable the wine was. Whoever that 'C' person was, they're most likely rich. They could have some sort of motive to send you this wine. Nonetheless, you enjoyed your evening with that heavenly bottle.

Chuuya had no idea what had gotten into him when he began anonymously sending you expensive gifts at your doorstep. That expensive wine was a random act of kindness that happens once in a blue moon. The limited-edition vinyl of your favorite artist was out of boredom. That expensive watch was only to see you smile as you wore it at work. That silk robe, that perfume, and that diamond ring were only an impulsive decision. Chuuya was hastily spending his money on you, and you kept accepting them not knowing who it was from. That was a stupid move from you, but you're lucky it was from him and not from somebody else.

You're beginning to fall for the 'C' person behind all the luxurious gifts that they send every week. You felt properly spoiled as you kept accepting more and more. You can't help it, it's not like you could afford all of those with your paycheck. One evening, you waited again for another gift from your mysterious admirer (if you can call them that). But what you weren't expecting was the guy who saved you from the gunfire weeks ago, waiting for you at your front door, with a bouquet of red roses. 

Chuuya gulped as he sweats in his expensive tailored suit, he takes in your bewildered gaze on him. He blushed as red as the bouquet before thrusting it towards you.

"...Were you the one sending me those gifts?"

"Yeah..."

"Oh"

You blinked and stared down at the roses. You looked up at Chuuya and gave him a sweet smile before walking over to him.

"That's so sweet of you, but why?"

"I—I was only curious and...and you had good taste"

"Okay. So, what's your name?"

"Nakahara Chuuya"

"I'm [Surname] [Name], do you want to go inside?"

You asked and Chuuya nodded, almost in a trance. He can't help but feel weak at the knees at how you smile at him. The moment you shut your door the Mafioso couldn't contain himself as he pounced at you, capturing your lips into an intense kiss. That evening ended with his and your clothes scattered all over your bedroom floor.

A relationship bloomed afterward. Chuuya took you out on proper dates and continued to spoil you endlessly. What he thought was only curiosity or boredom became a passion for him. Truthfully, loving Chuuya was difficult from the start. He has a temper and often keeps his guard up, and it took time and effort for you to help him be vulnerable with you. It tugged on your heartstrings to find out that under that tough exterior was someone who was starving for affection.

When Chuuya loved, he loved deeply. When he couldn't express his tenderness to the people who meant a lot to him back then, he did with you. With every waking hour, he'll make sure that you feel loved and that you are aware of it. He'd trace every curve of your body and mark your skin with love bites. He'll give you gifts and smother you with his kisses. Chuuya made it his top priority to make you feel safe and secure. He even convinced you to move into his large house so he could keep an eye on you.

It had something to do with his past, but he couldn't stand the thought of you leaving him. So, the gravity manipulator would follow you around on a daily. To your work, to go out with friends, or even at the grocery store. Chuuya was constantly on your tail without your knowledge. He'd disguise himself in various outfits and behave like a normal civilian to not draw suspicion. He'd smile to himself knowing that you're safe from danger because of him.

However, when you got involved in conflicts, Chuuya would take it upon himself to resolve them. That drunk man who kept flirting with you at the bar? He was found with broken bones in an alleyway. That woman who was rude to you at work? She was arrested for a crime she claimed she didn't commit. And that fucking creep that followed you home one night? He was beaten to death with his face disfigured. The Mafioso made sure everything was taken care of and you're none the wiser.

It became clear to him that you have come to his life to fill that void in him. When you wrap your arms around him and whisper sweet nothings against his ear, it brings his body back to life. It revives that hope in him that he thought he had lost. You have made him feel truly human.

Back then, his head was haunting him, and his heart feels like a ghost. He needs to feel something 'cause he's still so far from home. Chuuya hopes that you'll cross your heart and hope to die, promise him you'll never leave his side. Show him what he can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone. You've got him on your knees, he's your one-man cult. Cross his heart and hope to die, he promises you that he'll never leave your side.

'Cause he's telling you, you're all he needs. He promises you, you're all he sees. He's telling you you're all he needs. He'll never leave. So, you can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you.

Lately, you have been getting this feeling like you were being constantly followed everywhere. You were beginning to feel restless about it. When you expressed this to your boyfriend, he would coo at you and pull you into an embrace as he littered kisses all over your face. It would temporarily soothe you until you get separated from him. You'd carefully travel to work and feel the discomfort grow during your shift at the restaurant. You would try to call Chuuya during your break and he'll reassure you with a few words. You had no idea what Chuuya's occupation was, but you had an assumption that he was constantly busy and paid handsomely.

This discomfort developed into paranoia. You couldn't even tell anybody anymore because you're convinced that you would sound crazy. You had no evidence to link the cause of your paranoia. Your senses are heightened as you begin to notice things that you haven't before. All the people you had bad interactions with either ended up severely injured, arrested, or dead in the news. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. It seemed like you were the cause of their misfortune.

Chuuya was aware of your growing suspicion as he continued to follow you around. That ugly monster in him kept telling him that you'll abandon him sooner and it disturbs him so much that he starts to follow you even more. There wasn't a moment you weren't alone. He needed to prove that stupid monster wrong and that you wouldn't leave him. There was no way, and he wouldn't allow it. He has you now, and he won't let you leave him like everybody else did. If you did, you'd bring the end of him and the world.

On the way home, you kept a cautious eye out. You looked closely at each person you passed by. You felt like you were growing insane with each minute as you entered a discreet alleyway. All of a sudden, somebody sharply tugged on your bag making you twist your body, and your forehead was met with a gun. You freeze, feeling your body run immediately cold.

"Let go of the bag and I won't shoot, yeah?"

The gruff voice of a man said. Your lip wobbled as you shakily released the bag. But before the man could run off, he was attacked with a kick to the face. You stumbled back with a gasp as you watched in horror when the man was being brutally beaten by a smaller man dressed in a leather jacket with a hood over his head. You were unable to make out the shorter man's features as he punched the man's face to the point of almost disfiguring him. You have never witnessed such a brutal attack before. The man who snatched your bag had the upper hand with the gun but was bested by the other who had no other weapon in him but his fists.

You quivered in the corner with wet eyes as the shorter man finished beating up the bag-snatcher. His fists were bloodied, and you could tell that he was used to violence. Fear floods your heart when he starts to approach you with your bag in his bloody hands. The alleyway was dark, and it didn't provide the proper light for you to see the man's face. You had sunk into your knees, prepared to beg if the man was planning to beat you up too. However, you were taken aback when the man gently took your hand and returned your bag. Stray tears fall down from your lash line as the man immediately reaches his bloody hand to wipe them away, smudging some of the blood on your face by accident.

You recognized his touch, and it made your heartbeat stop. You blinked up at the man and reached out for his face. As you pulled his face closer, it revealed none other than your boyfriend, Chuuya.

"Chuuya?"

"You weren't meant to see that, darling"

He says lowly to you. When you draw your hands back, he swiftly grabs your wrists and pulls you close to him. His hands began to caress your hair and cheek.

"I'm glad you're safe"

"But you...you just beat up that man—"

"He fucking deserved it"

Your boyfriend growled making your lips shut. Realizing that he had startled you, Chuuya sighs and pulls you into an embrace, but it does not bring you any comfort.

"Why...? You didn't have to do that, Chuuya"

"I was trying to keep you safe, [Name]"

"You nearly beat him to death!"

"That's what he gets for messing with you!"

You pulled away from him. You could faintly see the look on his face, and it didn't look like the man who saved you from the gunfight long ago. You took a step back, clutching your bag against your body, and preparing to run. Chuuya's jaw was tight as he stalked closer to you, almost like a wolf.

"Chuuya, stop"

"Please, doll. I need you, come here"

He couldn't comprehend the petrified look in your face. You shook your head as you slowly processed what was happening.

"...Were you the one following me around?"

"I needed to, babe. I need to keep you safe"

"Following me everywhere does not make me feel safe, Chuuya"

"It's for the best! I need you, [Name]. And you need me. I can't..."

He trails off as he corners you against a brick wall. Your breath hitches as he places his hands on each of your sides, trapping you. Chuuya gives you a desperate look.

"I can't exist without you. Please, [Name]. I'll...I'll give you anything you want. I'll be anything you need"

Chuuya pleads with his face inches away from yours. You felt deeply disturbed by his behavior as you craned your neck and turned your face away. Chuuya just wants you to come sink into him and let him breathe you in.

"I'll be your gravity, you'll be my oxygen"

Yes, that's it. He'll be your gravity, keeping grounded here on earth and keeping you safe, keeping you from floating away from him. And you'll be his oxygen, the only thing that he needs to stay alive. But Chuuya can feel it, he's losing you. And it's tearing his heart apart so violently that a raw ache filled his senses. You no longer looked at him with those glimmering eyes. You looked at him as if you saw the monster he desperately kept away from you. He can feel it, the ugly monster in him laughing victoriously, laughing at how he lost another. But Chuuya kept grasping on, hoping you'd see through the darkness and see his good intentions. 

However, the longer the Mafioso gazed at your face, he realized that you had made your decision. Chuuya reluctantly pulls himself away. He could see it, the end of him and the end of the world. The moment you looked at him frightfully and walked out of that alleyway, leaving him alone in the darkness, the void in him grew larger. But he knows his heart is still beating, and longing for you, and you only. He'll never learn to yearn for anybody else. So, dig two graves 'cause when you die, he'll swear that he'll be leaving by your side.

Since that night, you ran to Chuuya's house collected every single one of your belongings, and left without wasting a minute. You've decided to move somewhere else, preferably away from Yokohama. You've quit your job and found a new apartment to live in. It was in another city, and it took a while for you to find a new job. All that mattered was that you were out of Chuuya's reach. You felt at ease at the thought he would never find you at your new home and that you would truly be safe now.

However, Chuuya thinks that things never ended. He never ceased to give up. You've never told him to his face that you and he are over, and he took it as another chance. It's not the end, he thinks. It wasn't a hassle to find you, considering the number of resources and connections he had, he found your new home in no time. Chuuya found out about your new job and your newly discreet lifestyle. He finds it adorable that you're trying to hide from him. It will never be over. Chuuya will follow to the ends of the earth. He will still remain to ensure that you're alive.

So, you can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you.

Adjusting to your new environment and lifestyle wasn't easy, so you were naturally stressed. Juggling with the adjustment and hiding from Chuuya drained your energy. So, when you caught a glimpse of ginger hair on the way to work, you almost doubled over. But you sighed in relief when you realized it was just a harmless stranger. You're convinced that you're just stressed when you thought you saw Chuuya amongst the customers you were serving in your new job, you checked again and were reassured that he wasn't hiding amongst those faces. You really think you could use a break because you bumped into a guy on the way home and he had the same azure eyes as Chuuya, you wanted to apologize to the stranger, but he has vanished.

Little by little, the gravity manipulator slowly inserted himself into your life again. He blended into the crowd as he followed you to work. He pretended to be somebody else as you served him at your job. And he would deliberately make contact with you in inconspicuous ways to satisfy his yearning for you. To Chuuya, he's willing to suffer just to have you again.

You can drag him through hell, if it meant he can hold your hand. He will follow you, 'cause he's under your spell. And you can throw him to the flames. Chuuya will follow you, he will follow you. 

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[eldritch-spouse]

You were being chased by some demented mushroom chef but you were able to get into this “abandoned” part of the building and the chef randomly stoped chasing you. Unbeknownst to you this section of the building has been “abandoned” because Santi realized to late that he was going into a heat and his perfect match decided to cross the threshold into his “domain” but hey at least you aren’t being butchered by a mushroom.

[You know what this smells like? Apocalypse AU.]

TW: Death; Gore

You have no idea you're in the very epicenter of the entire infection. Aka, quite literally the worst place you could hope to be, though not for the reasons that you'd expect.

When Krulu first came down with an illness he himself could not control, it was anyone's guess what might happen. Most didn't expect planetary contamination. Most didn't even understand what was currently unfolding. On the verge of perishing, weirdly ambivalent to it all, Krulu grants to his workers, what he can't grant to himself- Immunity. The Clergy's Eye is the very building that spawned this life-devouring mess, but also the location where none can catch it. Krulu's carcass lies hidden in its bowels, where no one but his most devout chosen accompanied him to an untimely end.

You don't know any of this. You don't know that the only reason you were able to wander in to begin with is because the protective "curtains" Krulu had over the building all but popped out of existence the moment he ceased to live.

All you know is that this place is brimming with resources, and looks suspiciously well-kept, when everything else around it is dilapidated and covered in contamination agents.

Luck graced you initially. Many of the Clergy members spend a good part of their days entirely inactive, mostly to preserve energy as food runs ever more scarce. But one of these monsters who absolutely can't afford to stay inactive for long is Morell. He's the one organizing hunts, deciding when and where and how- Scraping dishes out of whatever's out there that's minimally edible.

He can't afford to lose any opportunities.

Having a pig walk right into his jaws is just the biggest blessing, so of course he's expending every ounce of energy he has to catch you. Snatch you, wrap his terrifying, shaking hand around one of your soft little joints and crack it to pieces so you'll stop running. He's going to make you last, he's going to take itty bitty pieces, everyone will get the most out of you, yes. He can make it work, you're a true god-send!

Which is why he damn near tears the elevator doors asunder when you manage to dart into it. You may think you'll be safer, but Morell knows you'll just have a less effective end. One of the others will get excited and gut you right then and there, will eat you whole, leave nothing for the others.

What he didn't expect, is that you might end up in the floors Santi has most dominion over. The guest rooms. Over there, could the faintest glimmer of hope be seen?

Santi sleeps in all the beds, particularly the ones he can still smell people on, the ones with traces of use, lying on them like a dragon in a nest of pillows. He subsists on the lust of his coworkers, whenever they're well-fed enough to even experience sexual urges, or when they're just so incredibly fucked up that they'll take any distraction offered to them. He's in a perpetual starved state not too dissimilar from his heats, but increasingly more unbearable.

His coworkers lock him in the guest floors with magical wards and powerful minerals when he becomes too much to handle, but Santi knows those locks aren't impenetrable, he knows they'll fail and flicker eventually, and no one can stop him then.

When he hears you, it feels like a dream. Like he finally croaked and his nightmare continues in whatever rotted afterlife his soul projects. Someone just wandering in, after so long, he spends way too much time stalking after you without doing a thing. It feels too good to be true, especially as you start succumbing to the few pheromones he still has enough energy to pump. To permeate these rooms with.

Malnourished as he is, whether or not you're anyone's match goes entirely unnoticed. You're already enough of a miracle for him. He has plans for you, and they're quite different from Morell's, yes. You won't end up on anyone's plate, but Santi will eat off you selfishly. And as he feeds enough, he'll protect you from the rest, surely.

He can keep you safe, so you'll listen to him, naturally. Otherwise it's certain death for you, love.

By the time you hear the door shut behind you, it's far too late, and Santi has trapped you in one of the guest rooms, looking wild and disheveled beneath a very flimsy attempt to look suave.

Would you sit down please, he'd coax, tracking your every motion when you jumped and shook, I'd like to have a talk with you.