#he looks so soft and approachable <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[youjustwaitsunshine]

man with over 15 years of super harsh media experience makes social media video looking like a fifth grader holding a presentation for the first time more at 8

[acoldsovereign]

SUBJECT MATTER: Old (Unprompted) Meme-Move From Old Blog // sender: @peoplcshope.

SHE ALERTED HER SLAVES ABOUT AN EXTENDED ABSENCE. She wasn't sure how long the trip would take, but she estimated the timeframe to be within a couple of hours or days. Regardless, they were to run themselves as if she was still present--in other words, they had to pretend to be self-governing. She left instructions for them written in Ancient Saiya and a translation besides it (using the Modern variant), since most of the enslaved Races lacked the throat power and necessary internal makeup to make the same guttural sounds as she. Maiz made it abundantly clear that they were to report anything unsavory to her immediately.

She could (theoretically) replace Trunks, but not her kingdom.

----

WHEN SHE FIRST SHOWED VULNERABILITY, IT WAS AGAINST HER WILL. The nightmare of the Genocide haunted her dreams; screams and shrill alarms mixed together and deafened her child-like ears, thick tears, and the raging fire within tight, narrow hallways bathed in a dangerous red light effectively made her blinder than she already was. It usually ended the same way; Karne scooped her up with her tail and blitzed through the haze of death and carnage, then bumped Maiz up in her arms when the coast was clear enough. Maiz was shoved into an escape pod with hushed promises of being brought back when everything blew over, but she didn't care about that. She banged on the alien glass (of which was red too)--crying, screaming, pleading to fight with her, to know what was going on, why everyone was suddenly dying.

Sometimes the night terrors were crueler, and she perished along with them, her corpse reduced to ash in the hallways alongside the colleagues she used to know. She would perish on Planet Vegeta instead of in the atmosphere of Planet Kokytus.

Trunks had the displeasure of witnessing her cry during the first scenario, in her sleep.

----

SOMETIMES, SHE REGRETTED TELLING HIM ANYTHING. He was determined to show her 'she wasn't alone' in regards to tragedy and loss. It truthfully annoyed her that he committed her tear-streaked face and closely guarded hardships to memory; talking about her feelings didn't come natural to her. She had no equals--no peers. Merely associates she kept close to her chest (not everything was something to be shared with the time-traveler). None of them knew half of what she willfully divulged to him--not the aliens who did her hair and nails, not the tailor who customized her armors, nor any of the owners of the shopping strips she frequented who knew her by name and supplied her with the fabrics she used to design her bodysuits. Many of her slaves didn't even know why they were subjugated, either.

Outside of him, she wasn't known to be a person. She was an oppressive force of nature. She existed for a reason--otherwise, why would she still be alive? Why would she, out of everyone else, survive? She chose her purpose: to kill and destroy and enjoy it. She was a predator. A ruthless opportunist. A mass murderer and slave-owner. A ravager of worlds and crusher of dreams and hopes. Hells, at one point, she wanted to crush Trunks' own. She still carried those sadistic desires, but in a different manner with the passing days.

The device he made specifically for her--the holorogorus-disruptor, which hid her presence from other demons and Time Patrollers--on her left wrist itched, but she ignored it. Instead, Maiz listened to him go on and on about his world and what it meant to him. Talking about herself still felt foreign and out of place, so she made sure to ask pointed and highly detailed questions to keep the topic on him and off of her. Traveling to a different Earth wasn't what she expected either. The climate was the same but different--this sun felt a little hotter, the gravity somewhat weaker. Perhaps that's why her ruddy-complexion darkened progressively as he was kind enough to give her a tour of the places most precious to him . . . ?

The texture of her hair changed as the tour went on--her spikes fell towards her face and the waves seemingly shrunk. It wasn't exactly fair to say her iconic crown of bright red became straight, but it was close. She noticed the changes too late; one third of her energy was spent keeping stock of what Trunks told her, the second third was focused on memorizing the route they took just in case anything happened. Not that they'd be lost (because he knew the way), but because depending on another person outside of herself was a steep learning curve and she was abysmally failing at it. The final third of her energy was spent watching his reactions, studying his social cues (many of her relationships up until this point were either impersonal or strictly professional), and waiting for more appropriate opportunities to ask questions to keep him talking. It was when they reached the underground lab that he was seized by memories.

Silence fell when his gaze caught upon a pictured frame sitting upon a desk next to a dimly lit computer; a blue-haired, bright-eyed Bulma wrapped in what could only be called a warm embrace by two older people with vastly different hair colors, textures and clothes. She assumed this was Bulma's origin--Trunks' human grandparents. Suddenly, his purple hair made sense. (She's seen Saiyans with his shade of blue eyes before but haven't found a way to tell him yet; mostly because she didn't want to sound like she'd been staring at him too hard . . .). Maiz heard him mention the roof but she was much too taken with the genetic diversity displayed with the Brief Family genes. It all reminded her of home, eerily so. Contrary to belief, the Saiyans weren't all black haired and dark eyed. It was a misconception, a rumor started by Frieza to make them sound like an incestuous lot. Unappealing. To lower their market value overall, to make the Saiyans easier to control and eventually dispose of.

SHE TOOK A COUPLE OF STEPS BACK, UNNERVED BY A QUEASY FEELING IN HER STOMACH.

Her dead face briefly took on an expression of pain (furrowed brows, a frown, scrunched up features) before it went away. It was quick--a blink-and-you'll-miss-it event. Finally, she was able to look away and focus on other things. She looked at Trunks first, around, then up (there was exposed wiring on the walls, the plaster was chipped, the dome was indeed un-roofed, scorch marks trailed from where the roof would've began pointed at what the cause was, etc). She did this until her heart rate slowed, until her thoughts were no longer disarrayed, until her instincts no longer screamed to destroy the remnants of whatever he could call a home. She had to remind himself he wasn't mocking her, nor was he rubbing his life experiences in her face; he was showing her shared pain.

With a small sigh and slow sway of her tail, she asked, ". . .what else is here?" The quality of tone was detached, distant. Neutral, safe and boring. Not monotone--but as if she was disinterested with it all. Alas, this was simply how she sounded for the moment. Socialization in this manner was not her strong suit.

Neither was showing genuine concern.

[sinatoru]

౨ৎ ⊹˚⋆ ❛ HARD LOVE，❜ - boys who look like soft doms but in reality love it rough.

contains: smut, fem!reader, hard dom, rough sex, very much implied spanking, daddy usage on himself

notes: my monthly post bc school is like kicking my ass esp with grad coming up... also sry to mentions i ignored lolol i've been going thru it

he'll go easy, it's our first time. you think to yourself. but little did you know he'd be fucking your brains out that night.

"not too- fast!" you squealed into the soft pillow of his bed, clutching onto the sheets for mercy as you found yourself getting fucked face down and ass up on your fourth date.

a breathy laugh echoed through the room along with the sound of repeated skin slapping. his thumb caressing the red hand prints embedded on your soft cheeks, admiring what he had done.

pleasure and pain surged through your body. you knew he was big, but not this big. his cock stretched your pussy out past its limits at this point. like a shoe 3 sizes too small, you'd wriggle, and wriggling, shove your foot in basically... you get the idea.

his length continued to hit your cervix every time he plunged your ass into his pelvis, soliloquies came out of your mouth without question. his neighbors are surely going to complain. he'd thrust into you quick and hard you felt so overstimulated to the point you could barely fathom what was happening.

he stayed silent the whole time, only making groans and huffs from time to time, until he muttered under his breath.

"sweet girl, s' fucking good for daddy."

he fisted your hair, forcing you to look back at the needy expression he had on his face. so vulnerable yet stern. your mouth was ajar as you moaned out meaningless words to him, staring into his shrouded eyes.

you mewled, tightened around his cock, trying to milk out more of that sweet feeling he gave you with every push into your cunt. his dick was lathered in your juices as it went in and out so smoothly. it pressed so harshly against your velvety walls that you could just feel his big vein.

"i- 'm about to-" was all you managed to say. your back arched downward as you scrunched up, satisfaction vibrating everywhere, even your hands. his breath became heavier as he too was approaching.

nothing could replicate the pure euphoria you felt right then.

"oh please, cumming- hard-" you felt his liquid seep into your cunt as you wrung each other dry of any cum that was left, the hot and sticky goodness dripped onto the bedding.

if his dick was this good every time you might as well just marry him already.

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[groovyangelkisses]

Lumberjack ! Logan secretly love being pampered and spoiled by his girlfriend but is too shy to admit it

oh absolutely, honey! 💌

he'll daydream alllll day at the yard about comin' home to you & you running your nails through his hair, scratching and tugging while kissing his cheeks. and he'll blush, too! swinging his axe with the gratifying chop and thinking about his girl waiting for him at home ᯓᡣ𐭩

on days where you needed the pick-up, mainly to run to the farmer's market down the way for dinner, you'll pick him up from the yard. and ohhhh boy the looks logan gets when the other workers see a pretty little thing like you pulling up for him. and logan absolutely eats it up— loves knowing his pretty girl, so loving and doting, bordering obsessed with him, is the object of every mans dreams. if anyone dares to tease him for the sudden pep in his step as he almost jogs to you in the car, the glare they recieve will be deadly before logan shifts his eyeline back to you with a soft smile— only reserved for you <3

everyday when he comes home from work, there's a warm lavendar bath ready, and his favorite soft sweats warm from the dryer. the first time you drew him the bath, he fiddled with the soft pebbles of lavendar asking himself "what the fuck is this?" when you left the room for a moment to grab him a fluffy towel.

he was skeptical of being loved— never too quick to let his guard down. but when he finally sat in the tub? long, tanned limbs relaxing in the warm water that smelled sooo nice & relaxing? his shoulders dropping with content and his eyes fluttering shut? you washing his hair and telling him about your day? "oh god" he prays to himself "never take me away from her, not even for a second, i won't be able to bear it"

and for a more silly approach, you do a sweet little cucumber face mask on logan during the winter months; shelled up in your cozy home as the snow rages on. his eyes peacefully closed as you sit on his tummy, massaging his face gently as he runs his hands up & down your hips and thighs. a sudden knock at the window reveals one of logan's friendly coworkers, coming to drop off the coat logan left at the sight earlier that day.

and this coworker pauses his sentence in mild shock to stare at this 6'2, mean-eyed hairy lumberjack with green fluff on his face and freshly moisturized lips. and all logan can say is "you tell anyone and i'll fuckin' kill you, i swear to god i will" to which you'll turn, all hurt, "you don't like the mask, baby?" and logan'll backtrack so genuinely "no, no baby, i do. 's nice and cooling, like you said. just don't want this shithead thinkin' i'll do anything wild like this for anyone but my girl"

and when his buddy leaves, head falling back in laughter, logan doesn't even find himself caring so much. especially not when you lay him back down, face now clean of the mask, and slooooowly start massaging his biceps.

"love my girl. love my sweet girl. take such good care'a me, pup, 'm so grateful" he'll coo as he starts to fall asleep after a long day's work— completely content, completely in love, only mildly ashamed of how much he needs you :(((

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[amiableness]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

Word Count: 4184

Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!

A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3

The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.

Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.

His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.

He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone. 

The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.

Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”

You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.

You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.

His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.

You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.

He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.

“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.

“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.

“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.

Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.

“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed. 

Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.

“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”

“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.

“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.

“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.

Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”

“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”

Theo's reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”

“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.

Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.

Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you'd always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.

“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief. 

The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”

“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”

“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.

“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.

“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.

“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.

“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.

Theo's mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”

“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.

Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss. 

“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary. 

But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.

“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you.“I need a break from them.”

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”

“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.

“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.

Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.

Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.

Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.

“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.

He’s absolutely furious.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.

It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.

His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.

Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.

“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”

“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.

Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.

You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.

He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’

There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.

A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.

“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.

“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”

“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.

Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps. 

“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.

“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you've ever been, the closest you've ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.

“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.

“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”

The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.

“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.

He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.

"Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?" Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. "Years," he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he's afraid to let go.

The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now. 

Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”

“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”

He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.

His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.

The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[hurlingdown]

        # BEASTFEAST ! — RYŌMEN SUKUNA.

synopsis. in another life, they only knew you as his guard dog. in this one, he's yours to own. or, alternatively: sukuna misses his mate so much that it begins to physically affect his vessel's body. they set off on a little mission in search of you, only to find themselves walking riiight into your waiting jaws. wc. 4.2k

tags. dom beast! reader, bottom! sukuna. reader has a cock. oviposition (eggs), size difference, large cock, i'm not joking around that thing is fucking ginormous, belly bulge, monsterfucking, cum inflation, breeding kink, mpreg, knotting, biting, rough anal sex, warning: sukuna's huge tits, appropriate amount of clothes-ripping, multiple orgasms, creampie, sukuna's hole leaks slick, soft & needy sukuna.

a/n. inspired by this ask. thank you for the wonderful thirst <3

Sukuna was a predator. He did not fear, did not run from measly little things like monsters, because hardly anything could be more terrifying than he was. 

But for the first time in his life, he felt like he was prey. 

Hulking, sharp teeth bared, and with four piercing slit-like eyes, you rose to your full height, a low growl sounding at the back of your throat. Primal hunger radiated from your entire being as you stalked closer and closer, horns lowered in a position ready to strike, your tail whipping the jagged ends of the cave, sending little sparks alive. 

“S-Sukuna, I think we should leave...” Yuuji stammered, starting to back out, but his cheek split open at once and a mouth appeared, snarling out a command to stay. 

“Let me take over,” Sukuna muttered. “I will handle this, brat.” 

Yuuji looked hesitant about giving up control on his body. Still, there were little options to pick and choose from at the moment, and the beast, you, was approaching them with haste. Each heavy step you took announced your presence, causing the ground to quake, crushed rock particles raining down like fine powder. 

Your eyes narrowed in onto the human at the mouth of the cave, no larger than one-fifth of your size, nor taller. Something coursed through you, sharp and warm and instantaneous, like static electricity. 

Familiarity. 

You came to a halt in front of him as tribal tattoos materialised on his skin, stretching across the expanse of his handsome face and dipping into his clothed chest. Two dark bands wrapped themselves around each of his wrists, and you watched intensely as he raised one (not six)—slowly, as to not threaten you, fist unfurling into a gentle hand to press against the side of your muzzle. 

Dark red eyes stared up at you with a bored expression. 

“Silly dog,” Sukuna cooed, fond. 

All of this was familiar territory, and you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck. He was looking at you like he knew what you wanted, too. 

“Sukuna,” you growled, nuzzling into his hand, and he shuddered. 

Closing his eyes, he curled a palm around one of your horns, bringing you down to press his forehead against yours, wanting to be close. You obliged easily, feeling his warm breath against yours, his touch surrounding you. The thrumming of his very much human heart against your lesser human one. You supposed it was a kind of feeling that no other living being could fathom. It wasn’t love, gods, no. It was something much more than that. 

It was something that only the two of you shared. 

“I made you wait,” Sukuna breathed, stroking the side of your face, and you snorted out an agreement. 

He had made you wait for centuries. Centuries of spending night and day in a cold wet cave, alone. You used to spend weeks lying awake at a time, waiting, hoping he would come back, sharp instincts perking up at every slight noise coming from outside the cave, only for it to be a bird or a stupid human traveller. You had hoped so desperately before that hope died with your will to live, and if not for your curse of immortality, you would have ended it all. You hadn’t even bothered to make a proper nest, for all these years. It didn’t matter if your mate wasn’t there to appreciate it. 

He had left you empty of meaning. 

“... I don’t suppose you will want me to apologise for that.” 

You stayed quiet. You weren’t looking for an apology. But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry with him. 

“Words?” he said patiently, looking at you. “Tell me how you feel.” 

“Nest,” you told him, and he watched helplessly as you shrugged his grip off and stalked past him, out of the cave and into the bright sunlight, for the first time in ages. 

You gathered nesting materials as swiftly as you could, taking whatever you could find in the forest—dried-up twigs, leaves, bark strips, bird feathers, all the sort. They didn’t have the softest texture, but they would do for now. 

You returned to a sweet, heady scent seeping out from inside the cave, each whiff sending delicious quivers down your spine. It was the kind of aphrodisiac that omegas in the wild would release if they wanted to attract an alpha, but these things did not matter to you much. Mate, your mind supplied. Breed. You shook it off as your body not being attuned to the unbearable warmth of the outside world. It was getting all your instincts mixed up. 

Inside the cave, Sukuna was sitting on your poorly-made nest like it was a grand throne, thighs spread and arms hung out, exposing his most vulnerable parts—his neck, heart and belly—to you in such a casual manner that it set fuel to the burgeoning fire you had been trying to ignore in your abdomen.

He gave you a lazy look as you noticed, a smirk beginning to stretch across his face. 

“You are back.” 

You felt your fangs itch. 

“I was going to rip these off,” Sukuna continued when you made no reply, pinching his clothes with a look of near disgust. “But I figured you would want to do it yourself…?” 

You growled. You had been suppressing the urge to rip off all his clothes since the moment he emerged in front of you in those markings that you had recognised as yours, and somehow, he knew it. 

“Sukuna,” you said. There was nothing else to say. You could feel yourself trembling with desire. Even he wouldn’t be able to take it, not in this weak form, no. “I need… to fix the nest.” The words came out flimsy and weak. An excuse.

“Take me,” he rasped out, as though reading your mind. He gestured to his stomach. “Forget the nest. I want you inside me. Right here.” 

He watched you, a hint of desperation behind his stern gaze. You looked away. 

“I am angry at you,” you confessed, the real reason for why you were so hesitant. It came out in a growl, and Sukuna shivered, baring his neck with a low whine. 

“I can tell,” he murmured, breathless. “Take it out on me.” 

It was tempting, really, having your mate spread out in front of you in your territory, willing and pliant, with only a thin, negligible barrier between you and what was yours. No, what used to be yours. You glared at his unblemished neck, now empty of a mating bite. It didn’t feel right, and the growing heat within you was telling you to either bite or break something. 

“No.” 

Sukuna cocked an eyebrow. “No?” 

Trying your best to ignore him, you lumbered over, starting to rearrange the nest into something more presentable. As you got closer, the sweet scent intensified, like a field of blooming red roses, each one making you dizzy with desire. Mate, your instincts were telling you. Make him round and heavy with our offspring. Keep him here forever. Who knows where he’ll walk off to the next time we lose sight of him. 

You could feel your cock sliding out from its sheath, steadily hardening as you pretended not to know where the smell was coming from. 

Sukuna eyed you coyly as you moved closer to stuff a few feathers behind him, arching his back subtly as he settled into a more comfortable position, one that exposed the wet patch between his legs. He pulled down the mouth of his shirt to show his right pectoral, the thick black lines enticing you to trace them with your tongue. 

Your cock swung heavily with every slight movement, and you could feel his hungry stare on it. 

He opened his mouth. You stopped and stared back at him, daring him to speak. He sneered. “Your dick clearly disagrees—” 

Sukuna yelped as you ripped his shirt open with your claws in one smooth movement, fully exposing his plump chest. 

“Beautiful,” you growled in appreciation, flinging the shredded shirt away, and he panted out a victorious laugh, eagerly pushing out his tits for you to examine. 

“Fucking finally.” He moaned unabashedly as you groped his pecs, careful not to graze him with your claws, but just as rough nonetheless—just the way he liked it. “Knew you would give in, haah.” 

“Sukuna,” you warned, baring your teeth, but he only arched his neck in response, trying to get you to bite already. 

“Put it in,” he whined. “Want your prick in me.” 

You ripped his pants off next. 

Your gaze raked down his body—this new, unfamiliar body of his that you should despise, because it was so human, so unlike him—but instead of feeling revulsion, you could only taste hunger. Saliva rapidly gathered in your mouth, threatening to spill out from the gaps of your sharp teeth. 

If he belonged to you, then every form and body that he chooses to possess would belong to you, too. And naturally, this one did. 

“Here,” Sukuna panted, reaching a hand between his legs to scissor his hole open for you. Viscous, syrupy slick dripped out, dousing your nest with his sweet smell, and all of this only served to drive you crazy with want. “Fuck me, ruin me, come on—” 

The universe unravelled before you the moment you grabbed him by the hips and seated him on your cock in one violent thrust, and you groaned out loud and guttural, heavens and the earth be damned. You could have never forgotten how it felt, not since then, and never now, a sweltering, almost electrical connection burning through your bodies and sealing them together as one, like you were made to fit inside him, like he was made to be yours. 

Sukuna was letting out a string of broken whimpers, face contorted in absolute bliss and pleasure as his rim stretched impossibly wide around your thick girth, his stomach bulging out to allow such a large intrusion. You yanked him further down the shaft of your cock, and he cried out, body convulsing as came—cock messily spurting on his chest. 

“Shit,” he cursed, trembling as you began to move again. “F-forgot how big this thing is.” 

You snarled. Guess you would just have to imprint your dick inside him to make sure he would never forget again. 

You manoeuvred your grip to the back of his knees, supporting him in a secure hold, spreading his thighs wider so you could slide in deeper with his back pressed against your chest. You wanted to feel every inch of him, wanted him to sheath you, wanted to carve a space inside him that only you could ever breach. Sukuna howled out a profanity, throwing his head back to rest on your shoulder as pleasure overwhelmed him in waves. 

He reached back to grab at your shoulders, horns, anything, struggling to push himself into a better position as you started to slowly thrust into him. Vulnerable was the first word that came to you. The second one was fragile, but that wasn’t the word for it, either. He was so little now—you could fit one hand completely around his waist, and you should be more gentle with him, really, but you knew he could take more. 

“Look,” you said, peeking over his shoulder. Sukuna looked up at you, teary and confused, but before you could clarify, you reached a clawed hand to press against the obscene bulge on his navel, and his eyes rolled back with a loud, shuddering cry as he jerked in your arms, pressure immediately increasing tenfold. 

“F-fuck,” he sobbed. You could feel the slick gushing out from around you and dripping down your thighs as he stared down for the first time, throat dry and unbreathing. “It’s too fuckin’ big.” 

You applied more pressure, just to be cruel, watching as he choked on a moan, thighs quivering uncontrollably. He stared back up at you, as though searching for a reason for that, and couldn’t resist looking down again, at the huge swell over his stomach and abdomen—the print of your cock marking him as yours. He slowly pressed his hands over your larger ones, whimpering as he felt just how deeply you were buried inside him. 

“It is not that big,” you sneered. “You are just small now.”

Sukuna scowled at your taunting words, shivering as you gently stroked his stomach. “Brat. That does not- ah- does not mean I cannot take you.” 

You bared your teeth, trying for something similar to a smile. “I know.” 

You knew that more than anyone. He was the strongest creature you had ever known, and would ever know. The only one you would ever bow down to, the only one you would serve and recognise as king.

You lapped up his tears, and Sukuna leaned heavily into your touch, like he had been starving for it. 

He was starting to roll his hips impatiently, forcing the head of your cock to rub against his walls, lustful whimpers slipping out as he watched you move inside him. “I guess it has been a long time,” he heaved, trying to catch his breath as he worked himself up and down your shaft the best he could. “I am gonna—cum. Again. Hold me.” 

It wasn’t an order as much as it was a plea.

You lifted his thigh high up to your chest, your other arm wrapping protectively around his waist as you violently slammed up into his tight hole, stuffing him full as he screamed. Strips of white painted his chest as he came all over himself, and you hooked your jaw over his shoulder to dutifully lick them up. 

It took him less than a minute to recover, hips jerking in your grip and whimpering pitifully to get your attention.  

“Fuck me,” he sobbed, way too sensitive as you started to move him up and down your cock again, canines grazing his neck. “Fuck me harder.” 

You knew Sukuna wasn’t letting you do this only because he wanted you to let you take out your anger on him. He needed it himself, craved it, even—the violence, the overstimulation, the release. Centuries of not having you beside him. Centuries of being sealed up in a dark, empty space without the comfort of your warmth, the solace in your touch. He needed it now, more than ever, and you needed it too.  

Ignoring his protests, you pulled him off your cock, setting him gently onto the nest on his hands and knees. Yanking his hips up, you forcefully pushed your shaft into him again, shoving him down by the neck when he tried to see what you were doing. He only moaned at the rough treatment, arching his back for you. 

“Let me,” you told him, gently. “Let me take care of you.” 

Sukuna panted, his two left eyes watching you with a strange reverence that only revealed itself when the two of you were alone and being intimate. It wasn’t exactly a promise to behave, but it was enough for you to start again. 

Your tail curled around his thigh possessively, guiding it to spread wider as you rammed your hips against his repeatedly with heavy thrusts, the wet slaps deafeningly loud as they echoed through the cave. Sukuna had stopped trying to fuck himself on your cock, instead laying there and allowing you to position him as you wished, moaning lewdly every time the tapered tip of your cock forced itself against his sweet spot. He was squeezing deliciously around you with every thrust, his insides squelching as slick coated the entirety of your shaft, easing the stretch and glide. 

“Gorgeous,” you growled, entranced by the way his hole greedily swallowed up your length, and he whined brokenly at the praise, trembling hands reaching back to spread himself open for you. You groaned out at the sight, driving yourself deep in before pulling out until only the tip stayed inside, and slamming back in again to drink in his pleasured cries. Somewhere in the middle of that he had cum again, spilling heavily into the nest as his knees gave out, legs shaking with overstimulation. 

“So fuckin’ good,” Sukuna whimpered, no longer himself in the haze of his third orgasm—face smushed against the nest as he drooled. “Missed this—missed you so much, ah—” 

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the edges of your vision blurring as you snapped your teeth together, focused on getting him off as much as possible first. Something strange and heavy was churning deep within you, being slowly dragged out from your depths and solidifying at the base of your cock—a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time, you almost forgot what it meant. 

You didn’t even know if it was possible to impregnate him in this form. 

“Fill me up,” he sobbed out, cockdrunk already. The stutter of your hips had given it away—it didn’t matter if it had been centuries—his body could recognise it coming from a mile, like he was conditioned to be bred by you. “Want your eggs.” 

You let out a hungry, animalistic whine at his words, claws digging into his hips and thighs as you towered over him in a proper mounting position, pounding harder and making guttural sounds of pleasure and want as you blindly chased your release. His eyes squeezed shut as he moaned wantonly, exposing his throat in a clear sign of submission, showing you that he wanted this, wanted you to stuff him full until he was bulging with your offspring. 

“S-Sukuna,” you managed, wanting to bite, wanting to mark him, cock slamming directly into his sweet spot with reckless abandon, as though wanting to mark his insides as yours too. You could feel a knot bloating at the base of your shaft, heavy and swollen with solid weight, an unbearable pressure pushing and growing insistently somewhere down there, slowly travelling towards the rim of your cockhead. It was too much, too good, and you wanted to push deeper, deeper, make him feel it all the way to his throat. 

“Knock me up already!” he wailed, pushing his ass back against you desperately as if that would speed things up. “P-Please. You know I want it. Been waiting for so long. I want it, please, please—” 

He was begging so much that it was driving your instincts into overdrive, sight blurring, breath coming out in rapid, hot pants—he had rarely, rarely ever acted like this even before the two of you were separated—tears rolling down his cheeks as he cried his heart out for you to permanently mark his body as your own, distraught and broken like the only thing that could fix him was you. 

It tore your soul apart to see your mate like this. 

You fought to concentrate, but an invisible force was prying your jaws open, trying to get you to bite, clamp down on his neck and shoulder, taste his blood and drink in it. 

“Bite,” you wheezed out with difficulty as your hips continued to pound into him of their own accord, and you tried your hardest to tell him that you were going to lose it any time. “Please—can—I?” 

“Yes, you fucking fool,” Sukuna choked on a sob as you brutally shoved your knot into him, stuffing him full until he felt like he was bursting. “Mark me up, show me that I belong to you—” 

And you did, jaws latching onto flesh and skin as your teeth punctured the juncture between his neck and shoulder, fangs sinking in deep, snarling, shaking, a burning heat exploding at your core as your vision whited out, emptying everything into him—ecstasy consuming your very existence. 

When you came to be, he was whimpering weakly.

You could feel the cum steadily trickling out of his hole and down the back of his thighs—you had come so much that even the thick knot couldn’t keep everything inside—but you didn’t think that was the reason. 

You could feel a heavy pressure present from your crotch to the gaping rim of your cockhead, pain and pleasuring splitting you apart, and you let out a wounded noise as you pushed the first egg into the body of your mate. 

“S-shit,” Sukuna croaked out, thighs trembling as the egg settled into him, straining at the sudden heavy weight in his stomach. “H-how many are there?” 

“There are two,” you hissed out, and his eyes widened. “Two more.” 

He let out a pained whine, eyes fluttering close as he waited for the next, and the next. “Brat,” he managed. “I might not be able to stay awake.” 

You pulled back the best you could, manhandling him gently so that you could rest him on his side, knot still lodged inside him. “It is okay,” you told him, softly. “I will take care of you.” 

Sukuna couldn’t remember, for the life of it, the last time that he had felt so heavy. 

He blinked his eyes open, and was greeted by the sight of his swollen stomach, now stuffed with three whole eggs, and at least a gallon of your cum. He sighed with contentment, wriggling to settle comfortably into the warmth of the nest, hands settling on his stomach. 

Yuuji was going to try and kill him, no doubt. Not that his vessel would ever come close to succeeding. He found himself grinning evilly at that. 

Sukuna was about to fall asleep again, before he noticed a lack of body heat behind him.

He was breathing in your scent as the entire cave was drenched in it that he hadn't realised immediately, but you were nowhere in sight. A hollow feeling swept over him in waves at the thought of being used and abandoned, and he bit back a whimper. Stupid, useless instincts. He hated how weak you made him.

“Brat,” he called, softly, too tired to sit up. “You are here?” 

You grunted. 

You had been sitting at the far edge of the nest for the past hour, gaze locked onto the entrance of the cave, guarding your now pregnant mate from any foolish intruders. That was… one of the two reasons. The other reason was to guard him from yourself. 

Sukuna called for you again, and you could not resist stealing a glance.

The sight before you was making you light-headed with desire that you could not afford to have, not right now. You stared down at him just as he looked up at you, swollen and bulging with your offspring, mindlessly stroking his huge stomach with cum still trickling down his ass and thighs. 

Fuck. You were so hungry. You would always be hungry for him.

Sukuna’s face split into an arrogant smirk. “Why, after all that, and you still want more.” 

“Do not,” you warned lowly, trying your best to look away, even as he shamelessly spread his legs, showing you the mess you had made between his thighs. “Sukuna. Not now.” 

“Why not?” he leered, taking pleasure in your distress. “Scared you will break me?” 

You growled. “Yes.” 

“Weak,” he taunted. “I do not remember picking a weak fool as my mate.” 

“I am not weak.” You bared your teeth at him, and he simply laughed at you. 

“So easy to rile up,” he hummed. “Come here.” 

“... No.” 

He looked even more amused. “Come over, brat. I will not do anything vile.” 

“So you know you are vile,” you said, and despite your words, begrudgingly strut over and buried your face into his neck, ignoring the dull heat persisting in your lower abdomen. 

Sukuna sighed as you lapped affectionately at the fresh mating bite, closing his eyes and basking in the heat of your body. “I never- ah- denied it in the first place.” 

You pulled back to glower at him, clawed hands settling back on his hips where they belonged—now carrying the weight of your offspring. He reached up to cradle your face now that you were steadying him, unfazed by your glare. 

“And you still love this vile creature?” he murmured, gazing at you with an expression no less than tender.

“Love,” you repeated, like it would make sense if you said it a second time. You felt more for him than just love. If love only made your skin feel warm and your heart beat fast, like the mortals have told, then this feeling was something much, much more than love. 

Sukuna merely grinned, and you knew he felt the same. 

kinktober masterlist! masterlist!

[tender-rosiey]

yoo rose I started following you a little while ago and I really liked you. I saw that your requests are open and I would like to ask for a scenario where Nanami arrives drunk and his wife takes care of him while he talks about how he loves her I liked all your stories with my businessman <3

unsteady love — nanami kento x f!reader

a/n: so glad that you do, love! <33 hope you like this one too 🫶🫶

kento stumbles slightly into your house, catching himself against the wall before you steady him, “kento… you’re drunk.”

he blinks down at you, the usually serious expression on his face replaced by something softer, more relaxed. there’s a faint flush coloring his cheeks, and he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle.

“I am not drunk,” he declares, his voice slurred just enough to betray him. “I’m... just—” he waves his hand vaguely in the air, searching for the right word. “...enlightened.”

you suppress a smile and guide him to the couch, sitting him down gently. “sure, ‘enlightened.’” you shake your head, amused. “stay put, I’ll get you some water.”

as you move to the kitchen, you hear him muttering to himself. “can’t believe I’m drunk,” he grumbles, almost like he’s scolding himself, “what kind of a husband does that?”

when you return, cup in hand, he’s sitting with his head leaned back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. but when you approach, he perks up immediately, watching you with a soft, slightly dazed look.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says. his voice is quieter, more sincere, and it catches you off guard for a second. nanami isn’t exactly shy about how he feels, but this is a side of him you don’t see often.

“drink,” you instruct, handing him the water to avoid the sudden rush of emotions his words bring. he takes the glass without complaint, but even as he drinks, his eyes never leave you.

after a few sips, he sets the glass down on the table and leans back again, sighing contentedly. “you take such good care of me,” he says softly, almost to himself, “I don’t deserve you.”

you chuckle at the sudden sentimental turn. “kento, you’re acting like I’ve just saved your life. you had a few drinks. you will be okay.”

he shakes his head, looking at you with those hazy, half-lidded eyes. “it is serious. you’re always here for me. always... my constant. my…” he trails off, struggling for the right words in his drunken haze, “you make everything better. I love you.”

his words are raw, unfiltered by the usual restraint he keeps on his emotions. there’s a vulnerability in the way he says it that makes your heart tighten.

“I love you too,” you reply, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

but before you can pull away, he grabs your wrist gently, pulling you closer. “no, you don’t get it.” he’s more insistent now, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that’s surprising given his state. “I really love you. I think about it all the time, all—the time.”

you laugh softly, though his words tug at something deep inside you. “you can tell me all about it when you’re sober.”

he doesn’t let go, though, his grip still gentle but firm. “I mean it. you make the worst days worth it. you... you’re everything.”

a soft laugh escapes you, touched by his sincerity but also aware of how much the alcohol is loosening his tongue. “I know, kento. you’ve told me before.”

nanami pouts—a rare expression that looks so out of place on his usually stoic face. “but I don’t say it enough. you deserve to hear it.”

he blinks sloppily as he stares at you before murmuring, "I need to marry you."

you let out a soft laugh and kiss his cheek, "we are married, you silly man."

in a once in a lifetime incident, your husband stares at you, eyes wide, face reddening by the second. he looks down at his feet for a few moments, then you see him hum, "that's nice."

his seriousness is almost comical given the state he’s in, and you can’t help but tease him a little. “y'know, you’re awfully chatty for someone who insisted they weren’t drunk.”

he lets out a sigh, leaning his head back again and releasing your wrist, “fine, fine. maybe I’m a little drunk. but it doesn’t change the fact that I—”

before he can finish, he shifts too quickly and almost topples off the couch. you rush to catch him, but you fall with him, and he blinks, disoriented, before breaking into a lopsided smile. “maybe a lot drunk.”

“yeah, maybe,” you say with a laugh, helping him sit back up. “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

as you help him to his feet, he leans heavily against you, his arm draped over your shoulder. you guide him down the hallway, his weight familiar but the situation still amusingly foreign.

normally, he’s the one doing the taking care of—you can’t help but relish this rare moment where the roles are reversed.

once you’ve managed to get him into bed, he pulls you down next to him, refusing to let go of your hand. his eyes, though heavy with sleep, remain fixed on you with that same soft, adoring look.

“you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion and sincerity, “we have to go to malaysia together.”

“sure,” you smile, brushing your fingers through his hair as his eyes finally flutter shut. “goodnight, kento.”

just as you’re about to pull away, his hand tightens around yours once more, and he whispers, half-asleep, “I love you.”

his words are softer now, less dramatic than before but still brimming with emotion.

you watch him for a moment, his features relaxed in the dim light, and feel a warmth spread through your chest. this side of him—unguarded, affectionate, and a little silly—is one you cherish just as much as his usual seriousness.

as he drifts off, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, letting his words linger in the air, “I love you too.”

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[percheduphere]

LET'S TALK ABOUT LOKI'S SHOES (ACTUALLY, HIS WHOLE WARDROBE)

Production costs aside, clothes tell the audience about how characters think of themselves.

Loki's shoes in the S2 finale raised a lot eyebrows, but I find them quite fitting: they are comfortable, practical, and most importantly, they are humble. The camera brings this to our attention to communicate his evolution in character.

Loki has always dressed well, often times ostentatiously. Whether he is at war, passing as a Midgardian, or held captive as an Asgardian prisoner, Loki communicates his social class and sense of superiority through clothing. For him, clothing armors his fragile sense of self and against others' opinions of him. He intends to be perceived as deadly charming but ultimately unapproachable.

His attire in the first Thor movie is roughly equal parts green and gold, signifying his royal status. His style is dressed down for his brother's misadventures in Jotenheim, yet overall both silhouettes are lofty, princely, but not hardened or threatening.

In Avengers, Loki's look has more black and leather, with exaggerated emphasis on his shoulders meant to intimidate as he assumes the role of villain. The silhouette is very hard, heavy, and edgy. Gold detailing is prevalent as well. Combined with the goat's helm, this is Loki's most pretentious outfit, which speaks to an undercurrent of low self-esteem and a compulsive need to impress. There's no mistaking he is the main antagonist of the story.

In Thor 2, Loki's attire is similar to Avengers but the overcoat is exchanged for a less bulky version (perhaps conveying he is less guarded now that the effects of the Mind Stone are no longer influencing him). Loki's role likewise pivots from the harsh lines of a villain to the more flexible edges of a reluctant villain-turned-ally. This aligns with his character arc when he protects both Jane and Thor, seemingly sacrificing himself.

In Thor 3, Loki's silhouette is streamlined even further. The overcoat is done away with in favor of what appears to be a leather doublet, pauldrons, and vambraces. Gold accents are minimal. While stylish, Loki's attire is more practical than showy, and his helm serves the dual purpose of protection as well as weaponry. At this point in his arc, Loki has become a full antihero, joining his brother's side in rescuing as many Asgardians as possible, and eventually dying in a vain bid to protect Thor from Thanos.

The TVA does something very fun and interesting in taking away Loki's ability to dress himself. Since Loki cannot use his magic in the TVA, he is forced to wear the same clothing as his captor/advocate, who eventually becomes his best friend and peer.

Perhaps, on a subconscious level, this helped Loki to feel included. We know by his pwn admission that Loki fears being alone and desperately craves a sense of belonging. At the same time, he intentionally dresses to put people at a distance, thereby protecting himself from potential rejection at the cost of isolating himself further.

When Mobius gives him that TVA jacket for the first time, Loki seems uncharacteristically pleased. It is not an attractive jacket by any means, yet he neither scoffs at it nor refuses to wear it. Instead, Loki puts it on and is content when Mobius says it looks "smart" on him. He continues to dress like Mobius and, indeed, mimic some of his mannerisms such as placing his hands on his hips. Without clothing meant to push people away, Loki opens up, has more fun, and makes friends.

Loki's choice of attire as he assumes the mantle of God of Stories (and time) is fascinating. Setting aside the clear design inspiration from the comics, Loki's silhouette is soft, remarkably so. His colors are earthy hues of green, and the only bit of flare are the light gold trimming and crown. The look brings to mind the garb of sages and wise wizards rather than royalty or warriors. He's powerful yet approachable because there is humility in his bearing. And that humility springs from a well of healthy self-worth, self-love, and a deep love for others.

The shoes are not meant to be attractive. They are meant to help him ascend the throne, nothing more.

[rainydayathogwarts]

1 boyfriend, 3 perverts - Remus Lupin (poly!marauders)

Summary: Your bf loves giving you head... especially when he's high, and doesn't mind having friends around. 2.5k wc - read pt. 2 here Wrote this instead of studying for my exams that start tmr...

The wooden floor was cold under your feet, blanketed by the chilly air that filled the dorms at this time of the year. You tip toed over to where you left your slippers by the mirror, clenching your jaw as you opened the door to your dorm, careful not to wake your peacefully slumbering roommates. Once outside, you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding, making your way down the stairs leading to the common room.

Luckily, most of the Gryffindors were already in their dorms, tired after a long few days of exams, so no one could see you, nearly half naked, warily creeping up the boys' dormitory staircase. The hallway is dark, but you can hear the muffled noises behind doors of dorm-mates joking around, or arguing. You stop in front of the right door, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before taking it out again, shaking your head to make your hair fall back into its natural state. Peeking down at your outfit, you nod in reassurance. Wearing small sleep shorts that barely covered your ass and a low cut tank top that didn't make an effort in hiding your perky nipples, you were sure that Remus would pounce on you the second he saw you.

Knocking on the door twice, you look around the hallway to make sure no one catches you in the wrong place. The dorm is eerily quiet when Peter opens the door to the dorm, and he looks visibly relieved when he sees it's you, his shoulders dropping in ease. "It's only y/n, lads." He states, stepping to the side to let you in, and a ruckus of noise fills the room once more as you walk inside, the other three boys clearly just as relieved as he was. They're all sat at the big window nook, window open behind them, cigarette wrappers littering the seats around them, clearly in the middle of a smoke sess. "Sweetheart!" Exclaims Remus from where he is sat, as you approach him, wrapping both arms over his shoulders in a loose hug.

Remus passes the cigarette he holds over to Sirius, letting both arms wrap around you, landing on the back of your bare thighs, just under your ass. He tugs you slightly closer to him, tilting his head up for you to bend down, pressing your lips down to his in a kiss. Remus kisses you hungrily, his hands trailing upwards to press your torso as close to him as he can, opening his mouth slightly so his tongue meets yours as you kiss, making you gasp in shock. You put a hand on his chest, pushing him away from you, eyes wide in surprise at his desperation. His lips tasted of weed and lemon drops, an explanation to his excitement.

"Remmy." You say lovingly, dropping your head down to press kisses onto his naked neck. Remus pushes your hips back slightly, and he spins you around in his arms, shoving you down so you're sat on his laps, and you finally acknowledge the two other boys, engrossed in conversation as though they hadn't even noticed your affectionate exchange. "Hey boys." You greet, accepting the cigarette Sirius hands you when they turn their attention to you. Taking a drag of the cigarette, you move your head to the side, allowing Remus to push your hair back, littering sloppy kisses onto your soft skin, making a trail of saliva down to your tank top's neckline, which barely covers the top of your tits, as Sirius begins to catch you up on their story.

One of Remus' hands comes up to cup one of your breasts, toying with it in his hand, and you briefly wonder just how long they've been smoking for. You jerk away from your boyfriend when his teeth graze the side of your neck teasingly. His grip around your waist tightens, and he pushes you down on his laps back into place, pressing your cunt down on his growing erection. Remus only separates himself from your neck to take a drag of the cigarette hanging between your index and middle finger before he gets back to business, ignoring the boys who begin teasing him.

Eventually, when Sirius drowsily says "Rem here can't go 10 minutes without bringing up how he needs to have you close to him, so I'm not surprised that he's all over you." Remus, still unbothered and worshiping your body, retorts with "Well I'm allowed to miss my girlfriend. At least I'm not the bloke who jerks off to photos of his best mate's girl." The room goes completely silent, with the exception of squelching noises Remus' wet kisses make on your skin. Your jaw goes slack, and you observe the looks on your boyfriend's three best friends' faces, noticing their gaping mouths and rosy cheeks. You almost don't believe your boyfriend, but the looks on his mates' faces say otherwise.

Your hand trails up to grip your boyfriend's short hair, trying to gently tug him away from you for a moment, as you rotate on his laps to face him as best you can. He obliges, looking up at your awaiting gaze with red eyes, a clear sign of how high he is. "Remus, what?" A sleeve covered hand comes up to wipe the saliva off his swollen pink lips. "You didn't know? These three perverts have had a massive crush on you since we got together. Always look extra close when we kiss, or when I touch your body the way no guy should in front of his best mates. To be fair, I only do it because I noticed the photo of you on your knees for me disappeared. Was my favourite photo of you too." His hand comes up to stroke your cheek as he says that last sentence, bringing your face closer to his to kiss you again.

You moan into the kiss, hands coming up to grip his jumper, completely unaware of the growing tents in the other boys' trousers, or the guilty looks on their faces, unaware that they had been caught by the big bad wolf. A string of saliva connects your lips when you pull away from the kiss, and Remus adds "But they're my best mates, I don't mind sharing with them a little." And with that, Remus' hands snake under your thighs, lifting you up gently, and placing you on the spot next to him on the big window nook. "Lay back down for me." You obey his words, still very much confused, head conveniently landing on Peter's laps, acting as a pillow for you. Remus climbs over you to continue placing kisses from where he left off, hands gripping the bottom of your shirt to effortlessly pull it over your head, your bare tits exposed to the group of boys.

You arch your back, the cool summer air sticking to the coats of saliva on your torso, and you take the time to look at the two boys observing you. Both Sirius and James have a hand over the tent in their trousers, palming their growing erections at the sight of you being pleasured by their best mate. At the tap on your hips, your gaze trails back down to your boyfriend, whose fingers grip your revealing sleeping shorts. You lift your hips up, eyes trailing back up to the boy looking down at you, and you smile up at him.

Remus, completely undisturbed by the attention you're paying his friends, pulls your panties off, throwing them in James' general direction as he spreads your knees open, lowering himself onto your cunt. He inhales deeply, his enhanced senses nearly causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure, before he finally buries himself into your cunt, disrupting the moment you shared with Peter, a loud moan cutting off whatever he was telling you. A hand immediately comes to grip Remus' chestnut hair, and your legs fall open even more, letting him suck at your clit and nip the areas around your thighs, surely leaving hickeys on your skin.

Remus's nose nudges at your clit, his tongue poking in and out of your hole, before he switches his attention, sucking aggressively on your sensitive nub, and dragging a finger up your slit, teasing your entrance with it. You gasp in pleasure, shutting your eyes close and bucking your hips up into your boyfriend's face. However, you don't have time to enjoy the feeling before it's taken away from you. "No!" You yell, shooting upwards and barely missing Peter's face when Remus completely removes contact with your pussy, only a hand on your thigh acting as any form of contact between your bodies. "Pete," Remus starts, causing the blonde boy's head to snap towards your boyfriend, an expression of absolute fear on his face.

"Don't let her close her eyes." He finishes, before plunging right back into your pussy, making your thighs squeeze around his head in pleasure. Peter puts his hands on your shoulders, helping you lay back down again, and you pant, looking off to the side to distract yourself from closing your eyes in pleasure. James has your panties wrapped around his hand, palming his dick over his sweatpants, and Sirius sits next to him, joggers unashamedly pulled down just enough for his dick to spring out, jerking himself off in long strokes. You gasp, back arching when Remus plunges two fingers inside your cunt, thrusting them into you quickly while his mouth works on stimulating your clit.

"Oh Rem!" You moan, digging your head back into Peter's laps, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. "Y/n... Y/n?" Peter mutters, unsure of what to do. "Y/n open your eyes." He tries again, to no avail. Remus lifts his head up, fingers still thrusting into you, and reaches up with his free hand to pinch your nipple, twisting it harshly. "Fuck!" You yelp, eyes snapping back open to make eye contact with your boyfriend. "When Pete tells you to open your eyes, you listen!" He instructs, slowing his hand's movements, waiting for a response. "Okay, fuck! Please Remus!" You beg, grinding your hips on his hand desperately, tears building up in your eyes. "Now what do you say you Pete?" He asks, his hand speeding up again. "'M sorry Pete." You sniffle, looking up at him. "Good girl." Says Remus, grinning when he feels your pussy clench at the praise.

"It's okay, y/n" Replies Pete, eyes going wide when you chase for his hand, pulling it on your body, and moving his fingers to grip your tit. "Shit!" He curses, looking at your possessive boyfriend. "Remus, is this- is this okay?" He asks fearfully, sighing when your boyfriend glances up, nodding. "Whatever my girl wants to do, she can do." Remus mutters against your pussy, focusing on your pleasure once more. A groan pulls your attention away from Pete, who begins massaging your tit, pinching your nipple slightly, and your cunt clenches in pleasure again. Your gaze lands on James, who is roughly palming himself, too shy to properly take care of himself like Sirius next to him. "Oh God" You moan, eyes fixated on his frustrated face, eyebrows furrowed and tears forming in his eyes. "Jamie." His head immediately snaps to you. "Come closer." And the boy obeys, dragging a chair right next to you.

You wipe a stray tear falling down his cheek, and reach out to the top of his sweatpants, pathetically trying to pull them down, hips bucking up at the sudden overstimulation on your clit. James helps you, pulling them down just enough for his cock to be exposed to you, angrily slapping his bare torso. The tip of his cock is red and leaking pre-cum, and you immediately start rubbing it, moaning the second James cries out in pleasure, thighs squeezing around your boyfriend's head, working hard to make you cum. You spread James' pre-cum down his dick and to the base of his cock, squeezing him near his balls before starting to stroke his length. His hips buck up into your hand, and you're suddenly reminded of the hand massaging your tit, looking up at Peter, who is completely engrossed in your body. Your eyebrows furrow and you feel the knot in your belly tightening, but something is missing.

You suddenly feel frustrated at the neglect of your second tit, and look for Sirius's eyes in the room, already locked on you. You look back down at your tits, hoping Sirius gets the message, and it seems he does, scurrying over to you, and kneeling on the floor next to the window nook, hand still glued to his cock. Boldly, his free hand reaches up to your tit, and he leans forward to wrap his lips around your perk nipple. You cry out as he begins sucking on it, your fist around James' cock tightening unawarely, causing him to gasp. Remus adds a third finger to your cunt, still sucking on your clit and you're done for, crying out his name loudly as you cum around his fingers and mouth, orgasm nearly causing you to black out. You're aware of the other two boys crying out too, closely followed by Remus, whose vibrations go up your pussy, making you gasp, letting go of James' cock to grip Remus' hair tightly, pulling his face closer to your cunt.

Remus' fingers slow down on your cunt, and he eventually pulls them out, tongue lapping at your pussy to clean you up, while you beg him to stop. "Fuck, baby-Rem can't!" James and Sirius shoot each other incredulous looks, panting to catch their breaths: they weren't expecting the night to come to this. When Remus finally pulls away from you, he leans over you, arms wrapping around your back to help you sit up, and you ogle at him, and the wet patch in his trousers, giggling slightly. "So we all finished except poor Peter?" You guess, looking back at the boy who sheepishly nods, cheeks tinted red. "Well-" You begin to suggest, only to be interrupted by your boyfriend. "No, I'm absolutely not done with you yet. You can take care of Peter when we're done, if he doesn't get to it first." He states, arms wrapping around your waist and effortlessly picking you.

You can hear Sirius cackle, and Peter groan whilst Remus walks the short steps to his four poster bed, dropping you on his mattress before pulling the curtains closed, and throwing his jumper off, leaving his torso in all its naked glory. "Muffliato or no?" He asks you, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Just as you begin to say the answer, you hear three yells of "No!" coming from outside the curtains.

"Pervs!" Your boyfriend yells out, though he obeys with a grin, shimmying out of his trousers.

[2tarbell]

omg omg, mean!rafe being so pussy drunk he begins to blabber praises to crybaby, who feels confused between loving and hating the big change, cuz even when she’s still being pounded into tears, she still just wants her rafey to be mean!! :c

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

rafey coming home from a looooong day of bein’ all rough and intimidating, his crybaby is there with issues of her own. pouty at whatever bullshit she decided was wrong that day. rafe is exhausted, completely worn out from the workload he’s dealing with. so he lets her yip like a little puppy at him, unaware of the boiling tension just under the surface of his icy gaze, until he can’t take it anymore, grabbing her throat and telling her what’s gonna happen next.

(“yeah? you wanna— wanna act like a big girl? upstairs. clothes off.”)

maybe it’s mean, maybe rude; crybaby doesn’t give two shits (if the glossy stain on her blue undies says anything).

that’s how she ends up bouncing breathlessly on his cock, choked sobs leaving her swollen lips each time she sinks down, “dad— daddy… sssshhhit…”

rafe is leaning back on the headboard, his hands rough against the supple skin of her hips. it’s all grunts and babbles of incoherent pleasure from the two — the sting from his mean words making her mind feel hazier & hazier.

“yeah, put that fuckin’ shit to use — c’mon, baby,” he mutters, blue eyes transfixed on the twist of her bottom half. watching with bated breath as she swallows his length easily, pussy so wet it’s sloppy.

but then she’s planting her palms on his abs and grinding her hips down, the drag so delicious and mind-numbing it makes rafe choke. his eyes roll back as the pressures of the day fading away until all that’s left is the warmth of her walls around him. her sniffles and broken moans make his length pulse.

his eyes roll back, body shuddering and large hands keeping her down on his cock, “fuck, slower…”

his slurred command shocked reader, expecting dirty words & scolds. but, always eager to please, she moves in deeper, slower grinds, eyes clenched shut in concentration to keep her rhythm. her efforts earn a buck from the man under her — gasps and growls falling from his mouth.

“yes, yes— fuck, atta girl… making this dick feel so good, baby.”

his hand trails up her body, grabbing her chin tenderly and directing her wet, low-lidded gaze back to him. suddenly he’s rolling her against him with more fervor, taking control of her hips with his arm wrapped fully around her waist. their foreheads are pressed together tightly, noses bumping with each drag.

rafe speaks lowly, voice almost in a drunken slur, “god, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. look at me… jesus, just—like—that…”

the sweet whisper of his words reach her ears and she feels pathetic when a pang shoots from her heart right to her core. more arousal gushed around him, feeling confused at the thump-thump in her pussy & heart.

crybaby was used to the mean daddy that punished her and literally spit in her mouth. but this version of her man — all soft and touching her with a sense of reverence — left her melting further into his guided movements.

“f-f-fuuck, daddy, gonna make me cum,” she whined, hands moving up to clutch his cheeks. she felt hot and tingly, furrowed brow as she tried to grasp her orgasm, approaching it.

“there you go, good fuckin’ girl— cream all over daddy, baby. lemme hear you cry—”

she sobbed as her body finally couldn’t take it anymore, tensing before shaking and trembling through her release. the clench of her walls around him make rafe hiccup, release sputtering into her awaiting core.

they both were a mess of sweat and tears, breathing like they’d just run a marathon as the adrenaline started to wear off. he runs his nails across her back and nuzzles his nose in her hairline, inhaling her unique sent.

the softness was a surprise but something she let herself fully enjoy! sometimes they both needed something sweeter <3

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen @roostersluvvr

[misswynters]

Broken and whole

pairing | Viktor x gn!reader

no warnings just passionate kissing

a short drabble until we wait for the next three episodes with jesus viktor <3 (he’s always been so fine)

– let me know if you would like to get tagged in arcane fics

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned <3

In the night sky as the moonlight shines through the windows, the lab was filled with the low hum of machinery. It had a faint metallic scent of Viktor’s latest work. You leaned against the wall, watching him from across the room as he worked, utterly engrossed in his latest project. He had changed so much recently, both in body and spirit. The hextech augmentation now coursing through his leg gave him a powerful, refined look, yet you sensed a hidden struggle behind his carefully guarded gaze. You knew how he was. His mind was only half here, the other was lost somewhere between ambition and uncertainty.

He hadn’t noticed your arrival yet, too focused on the delicate mechanisms of the device in front of him. You admired him, his steady hand, his unwavering concentration, the way his golden eyes seemed to burn with a fire that was part passion, part burden. Yet you could see the toll it took, even if he would never admit it.

“Viktor,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.

His head lifted, and his intense gaze softened slightly as he saw you. “Ah,” he said, letting out a breath, “I didn’t realize you were here.” There was a hint of relief in his voice, as if your presence offered him a reprieve from the depths of his mind.

You approached him slowly, your fingers brushing the edge of the table. “I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s been days, Viktor. You need to rest.”

A flicker of defensiveness crossed his face, but it melted quickly, replaced by something almost vulnerable. “Rest,” he echoed, his voice laced with exhaustion. “It feels like a luxury I cannot afford.”

You stepped closer, your heart aching at the sight of him so worn down, so caught between his dreams and the demands of his body. “Even visionaries need a break,” you murmured, reaching up to gently place a hand on his shoulder. He was warmer than you expected, his skin cool to the touch from the metal but still unmistakably him.

Viktor looked down at your hand, as if surprised by the intimacy of the gesture. His gaze softened, and he let out a soft, reluctant sigh. “Perhaps… perhaps you’re right,” he admitted, a slight smile breaking through the intensity of his features. “You always have been, haven’t you?”

There was a warmth in his voice that pulled you closer, and for a moment, you forgot the cold metal and complex machinery that surrounded you. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, feeling the tension ease from his shoulders under your touch.

“Viktor…” you murmured, your voice almost trembling with the unspoken words you had held back for so long. He looked at you, truly looked, his golden eyes reflecting something vulnerable, something raw that he rarely let show. “Yes?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling the softness of his skin against the hardness of his prosthetic. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze focused solely on your face, as if you were the only thing grounding him in this moment.

“I worry about you,” you whispered, your voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the lab. “You give so much of yourself, but you leave so little room for…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For someone to care for you.”

Viktor’s expression softened, his hand lifting slowly to touch yours, his fingers tentative but warm. “I… I hadn’t realized,” he murmured, his gaze dropping for a moment before he met your eyes again. “But with you, it feels… different.”

A moment of silence passed between you, and in that silence, the unspoken words lingered, the weight of everything you had both held back coming to the surface. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor leaned forward, his face mere inches from yours.

“Different how?” you asked, your heart pounding as you felt his breath against your lips.

“Like I could… lose myself in you,” he whispered, a vulnerability in his voice that shook you to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips brushed yours, soft at first, testing, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands moving to cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer. There was a hunger in his kiss, a desperation that spoke of the weeks, months, maybe even years he had spent holding back, afraid to want this, to want you.

The passion between you ignited, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that surprised you both. Viktor’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, as if he needed to feel every inch of you, as if he were afraid you might vanish. His breath was ragged, each exhale a confession of how long he had kept himself from this moment.

He pulled back, only slightly, his golden eyes searching yours, his face open in a way you had never seen. “You…” he whispered, as if the words failed him, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are the one thing that makes me feel whole.”

You could see the storm of emotions in his gaze. Desire and hope. They were all woven together, vulnerable and unguarded. You wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself sink into the feeling of him holding you, his heartbeat quickening against yours.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, Viktor,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his, your fingers trailing down his arm, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingertips. “I’m here. Let me carry some of it with you.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he held you close, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair. “I never thought…” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to steady himself. “I never thought anyone could love someone like me.”

Your heart ached at the words, at the quiet self-doubt that he kept buried so deep. You tilted his chin up, meeting his gaze with all the strength you could muster. “I don’t love you despite anything, Viktor,” you said, your voice steady. “I love you because of who you are, all of you.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and then he kissed you again, harder this time, as if pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers pressing into you as though you were his anchor, the one steady point in the storm that was his mind.

The two of you stayed like that, tangled together in the quiet of the lab, lost in each other. Viktor’s hand traced gentle patterns along your back, his touch tender, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing every detail of this moment. And in that embrace, in the warmth of his kiss, you felt him let go of the weight he carried, just a little, as he allowed himself to surrender to you, even if only for this fleeting, stolen moment.

banner by. @cafekitsune

[chuluoyi]

✎ the babysitters' club

- gojo satoru x reader

in which yuji, megumi and nobara are tasked with the most important mission ever by their teacher—watching over his baby son!

genre: total crack, first years are trying their best to babysit your son to save their grades, an attempt at humor, gojo is irritating as always, fluff, fluff, fluff

note: this is sooo incredibly silly :') some inspiration are taken from the baby starfish onesie, this ask, and this illustration -> if you're wondering how gojo dressed his baby, he's looks just like that :)) tagging @3zae-zae3 <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Gojo-sensei... what is that wiggling starfish!?"

On one sunny day in jujutsu school... trouble is once again brewing in the form of Gojo Satoru bringing his baby son to the class.

"Starfish? No, no," Gojo retorted with a displeased expression, directing his gaze towards Yuji and clicking his tongue as he patted his squirming baby, which was still hidden from their view. "He's my pride and joy! Don't refer to him as starfish!"

"But you've got him dressed up as one..." Nobara pointed out, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"That's his kid," Megumi provided, wearily sighing. God, he knew already today was going to be a long day.

No one from school had seen your seven-month old baby son yet, and Gojo was determined to make it an occasion to remember.

Beaming with pride, he gently removed his baby from the starfish-themed onesie, revealing him in a tiny black jujutsu outfit specially tailored for him, complete with miniature black glasses. He held him up, presenting him for everyone to see.

"Behold, everyone... my son! Isn't he just adorable?!"

. . . a momentary silence before—

"Oh my goodness, he is!" Nobara cooed, forgetting her earlier sentiment, immediately approaching the baby with shining eyes. "Sensei, how could you manage to have a baby this cute!?"

"Heh! Only the finest technique utilized to create him—"

"Complete bullshit—"

"Hush, Megumi! No cussing in front of my baby! I'll deduct your marks!"

"Seriously...?"

"Now, class, today I have a very, very important task for you..." Gojo said, his voice dripping with mischief as he sported a broad grin. "If you succeed, I'll personally draft a recommendation letter for each of you to Yaga. But if you don't..." he paused for the suspense, scanning his three students' curious faces.

"Then I'm failing you in my class!" Gojo continued with a grin, prompting immediate reactions from his students.

“What! Why?!”

“That's not fair!”

“Sigh.”

“All you have to do was to watch over him until I come back. Everything you need is here— in this bag!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Nobara raised an eyebrow. Only Yuji who seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Isn't that easy?" Gojo tilted his head playfully, looking absolutely stupid with his blindfold. "There are three of you here. If you can't even manage to look after one baby, then you should not even think about romance and dating."

"Nonsen—"

"Quiet, Megumi!"

And so began the day's mission: looking after Baby Gojo until his father's return.

“Lalala~ look you’re flying!”

“Fwa...”

“Kugisaki, don’t hold him like that! You’re making him cry!”

“No, I’m not— Itadori! Don’t smush his face—!”

“WAAA!”

“You idiot!” Megumi hissed, plucking the poor baby from his clueless friends and immediately soothed him, pulling him close and patting his back. He even gently shushed him, “There, there...”

And Yuji and Nobara could only look at him in awe as the baby's wails turned into soft sniffles, peaceful in his embrace.

"Whoa... Fushiguro, so babies like you, huh..."

"Unfair!" Nobara clicked his tongue, before fixing a wide smile and waved at the baby in Megumi's arms. "Hi baby~ don't you want to held by big sister—"

"He doesn't like you, Kugisaki."

And so, that was how the three of them spent half the day—constantly watching over Baby Gojo, with Megumi supervising both the baby and his two friends.

"Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in him..." Megumi grumbled sullenly, resigned to his fate, his gaze fixed on the crawling baby while he sat on the floor and threw his little sunglasses.

For all the sighs he exuded, Megumi undeniably had a soft spot for the baby. Prior today, he had held him several times, and he'd never admit it, but he'd protect him to the best of his ability, if anything, because you had done so much for him.

“Gojo-sensei is cool!” Yuji remarked. “Of course Y/N-sensei is happy with him.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Only you would say that.”

"Hey, don't you think he wants his milk?" Yuji suddenly pointed out, as the baby became fussy. Megumi nodded and Yuji immediately reached for the bag Gojo left. He pulled out a bottle and handed it to his friend, but in the process, he accidentally knocked the bag over, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Ahh, my bad," the boy sighed, collecting the diapers and washcloth, until he realized that there were some more—

"What's that? Photographs?" Nobara picked one of them up, and immediately gasped. "Oh my! Look at this!"

On the picture was the same baby, but much more smaller and swaddled in baby blue blanket and tiny blue beanie. Most likely taken when he was a newborn.

"Whoa, wait, there's something written behind the photo..."

When she flipped it over, both she and Yuji studied the messy handwriting, instantly recognizing it as their teacher's.

Yaaay! ♡ Baby is here! I'm sooo happy you made it! But mama went through a lot to bring you here... so don't ever forget that she loves you very, very much, okay?

"This is sweet." Nobara looked at the picture with a genuine smile, until she realized that there were some more scattered on the floor.

The other picture was of the blue-eyed baby on his arms and knees, wrapped in an orange and black bee onesie, complete with little wings, and behind it was written:

Aren't you just the cutest bee?! And what's more, you've started crawling! Aw, papa is so proud! In no time at all, you're going to be as strong as me!

"What are you two doing over there?" Megumi asked, still feeding the baby with the milk bottle. Nobara beckoned him over.

The third photo was of you smiling so prettily while holding your baby, still in his bee suit, and Gojo also in the frame, wrapping his arm around you, clearly the one holding the camera to take the selfie.

Two my most precious treasures ♡ Sweetheart, I love you. And baby too!

Yuji smiled, as he felt warmth spreading in his chest. "Gojo-sensei really treasures his family, huh?"

"He is," Megumi agreed, because he had seen it all throughout his life.

"Well, no wonder..." Nobara giggled. "Any woman showered with this much love would be happy."

And that day, the trio also uncovered another side of their teacher, that his deepest affection was reserved exclusively for his wife and child.

Well, the sentimental feeling didn't last long though...

"This is our chance!" Nobara said in a hushed whisper. "When else are we going to get an extra family discount!?"

Megumi was so ready to burst a blood vessel as he held the baby—given that he had forbidden his two friends to lay a finger on him. "We are meeting Gojo-sensei here, not to—!"

"Hush! Itadori, don't you agree with me?!"

Yuji nudged his cross friend, trying to appease him. "Lighten up, Fushiguro! We can have more meat!"

At the last minute, Gojo suddenly told the three of them to bring his baby and meet him at the shopping center as he didn't want to waste energy to go back to the school. And like broke students Nobara and Yuji were, they decided to use Baby Gojo to snag an extra plate in a yakiniku place.

Megumi's eyes twitched. "This is not making sense at all, they won't believe—!"

"Shut up, you! Waiter~ here! We have a baby! So we're eligible for the family package!"

The judging stare of the waiter was enough to make Megumi combust on the spot, and yet somehow he passed the four of them as family eligible for the extra plate.

It was later, after they had their lunch that Megumi suddenly had an upset stomach and left the baby momentarily in his two friends' care.

And under less-than-watchful eyes...

"Hey, Kugisaki, meat on this side is the juiciest! Try it!"

"Ooh, you're right!"

The baby only blinked at them in wonder as he stayed in his spot. Not for long though... and it didn't help that they forgot his existence after they went to the cashier and headed out.

"Oi, Itadori! Don't forget to split the bill!"

"Oh yeah! Anyway, why is Fushiguro taking so long?"

Megumi got back right afterwards, and he frowned. "You done already? I haven't even gotten my ocha refill—" and it dawned to him when he saw both Yuji and Nobara with empty hands.

"Wait... where's the baby?"

"—! Oh my god!"

And when the three of them rushed back to the yakiniku place and approached their table earlier, Nobara almost screamed at the empty chairs, "He is gone!"

"You left the baby with the kids and told them to come here?!"

You were positively fuming as you scolded your stupid husband in the bustling mall.

"Well, we haven't gotten much time to spend together, just the two of us!" Satoru retorted, his tone sulky as he pouted. "And besides, Megumi is there. I'm sure they'll do just fine~"

You let out a sigh. True enough, being parents is no joke. Aside from stay-at-home dates, the frequency of the two of you going out had dwindled exponentially since having your baby.

"Technically, you are still on the clock though." You threw him a glare. "You're being a very irresponsible teacher."

Satoru smirked. "Heh, spare me. But I'm being a very good teacher to you in our—"

"One more word and I'm locking you out—!"

Just as you were about to give him your (empty) threat, the building suddenly boomed with an announcement from the mall's broadcast speaker.

"Attention, shoppers. We've received a report from three teenagers that they've lost a baby. He is seven-month old, wears black shirt, has white hair and blue eyes. He is last seen at Yakiniku Q—"

"Satoru..." your voice trembled, dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The baby described by the speaker was unmistakably your son, and the realization of him being missing sent you spiraling into panic.

"Hey, calm down." Satoru gripped your hand tightly, his voice steady as he faced you. "We're going to find him, alright? I'm here. Don't worry."

And after taking off his glasses, in a matter of seconds, Satoru figured out where he was.

Nobara's eyes welled up with tears, frustrated. "What do I do, Gojo-sensei will fail us now..." she muttered, biting her lip.

"That's what you're worried about?" Megumi replied, turning to her with a clear glare.

"He's going to be fine! He is!" Yuji interjected, trying to reassure his two friends despite his own rising anxiety. "He’s not just any random baby—who knows, maybe he can shoot cursed energy to protect himself!"

Megumi and Nobara leveled their annoyed stares on him and Yuji immediately regretted his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I still think he can't get far from the yakiniku place." Megumi was too panicked to check with the staff earlier and just went with Yuji's suggestion to report it to be announced, but now that he thought about it— "I think we should go back."

And thank goodness the three of them returned for the second time because, this time, they finally saw the baby safely cradled in your arms, with Gojo speaking to the waitresses nearby.

"Oh?! Gojo-sensei is here!"

But as soon as the three of them came into view, Gojo immediately fixed them with his unamused gaze.

"You three..." his voice was lower and it made the three kids shudder. "What did I tell you about failing this mission, huh?"

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi were visibly spooked, immediately bowing their heads in unison as they chorused—

"Gojo-sensei, we're so sorry!"

Nobara then pointed an accusing finger at Yuji. "But it was his fault! He kept eating away and didn't even oversee the baby anymore!"

"Wha!?" Yuji glared back at her. "No! You too! You kept eating my meat too!"

"Whatever it is, I'm not a part of this—" Megumi cut in boldly. "My stomach hurt so I had to go for a bit, and they couldn't even keep an eye on him—"

You soothed your squirming son as the first years were throwing blame at each other. Gaping in confusion, you couldn't help but wonder how such a simple task had turned into this incident.

"Tsk." Gojo crossed his arms dramatically, and you knew he was just messing with them, as he suddenly turned to you with a grin.

"Nah, as both a teacher and the victim's mother— Sensei~ who do you think is responsible for this? Or should I punish all three of them?"

The three kids before you were quaking in their boots, and you really didn't have time for this right now. Honestly, if if you had to quickly pinpoint the source of this chaos...

You directed your most irked glare at your husband. "You."

“Huh?!”

“You’re the one staging this by threatening their grades, and it results in our baby being missing!”

Now you were bickering with your husband and putting him in his rightful place. Nobara and Yuji gaped, while Megumi heaved a sigh of relief.

"Does this mean... our grades are saved?"

Epilogue

"They said he fell..." You pat your baby's head worriedly as he babbled happily in his crib, your expression darkening into a frown.

You didn't really blame the first years for their lack of experience, but as his mother, the news from the restaurant staff that they had found your son falling from the chair made you extremely uneasy.

Seeing your distress, Satoru’s natural response was to comfort you until you were back to smiles again. He gently tickled his boy's tummy, prompting him to squeal in absolute joy. "Look, he's perfectly fine. You don't need to worry so much, yeah?"

"But it's strange... I'm happy he's fine, but how? Most babies will get hurt or at least be inconsolable after falling. But he was totally okay..."

Satoru shifted his gaze to his son, as now his round, crystal blue eyes that mirrored his blinked back at him with such innocence and trust that even melted his heart.

"Ah, I see." Suddenly he smiled as if he had figured something out. "This is just my guess, but you know my guesses have like... 90% of probability of being correct—"

"Hmm...?"

"He might have activated Infinity by instinct. Heh."

[bunnis-monsters]

i need more abt peacock hybrids I LOVE HIMM

He’s been hanging around your bakery nearly every day since you rejected him, his tail feathers flicking and wanting to present themselves to you… but he stops himself.

He waits, watching you as you serve customers and go about your day. You’re kind, always giving even the nastiest of people a warm smile when you hang them their order.

And now he’s wondering how many of the smiles you have him were fake. Could he blame you? After all, he had been such an asshole, always taking up your time and being demanding…

It was clear you are way out of his league, but still he wants you desperately.

So he continues taking note of every little thing, from the way your eyes light up when you bite into a free donut after a long day, or how you laugh at your stupid male coworker he hates…

He’s in love with you, that’s for certain… but how will he ever win you over when he’s made such a fool of himself? It would have been so easy to just present his feathers in front of a fertile female, but no, he had to fall in love with you…

The peacock hybrid sits outside of the bakery, sulking as he stares at the ground. Perhaps he’d never get to have you. It wasn’t fair to wait around and bother you forever, so he got up and was ready to leave when you walked out the door.

“You’re still out here sulking?”

You walk out, carrying a brown paper bag. He looks up in surprise when you drop the bag in his lap.

“Here…”

You look away, your face slightly warm as you begin walking home. “It’s on the house…”

He stares at the small paper bag in his hand, his eyes wide. Was this… a courting gift?

His feathers flicked as he stood, his mind in a daze as he followed after you.

Maybe he had a chance after all…

It wasn’t long before he walked you home every day after work, acting as a protective mate would when anyone approached. He’d shake his feathers out in a defensive display, keeping you safe.

The best day of his life was when you finally invited him in your home and he got to mate you for the first time…

It was a cold evening, and he had been waiting outside for an hour, ready to walk you home. When you saw him shivering, you knew that he had changed.

Though he could still be selfish and arrogant, it was clear he truly cared for you.

“You’re cold, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll make you something warm.”

But it seemed he didn’t want to eat anything you could make him. No, the second he was in your house you were lifted up onto the nearest surface and your thighs were pried apart. He couldn’t stand it, he needed to taste you…

Your pussy was so plump and warm, the taste almost sweet. He looked up at you with eyes dazed from lust, his tongue fucking into your dripping cunt.

He loved you, wanted to prove he was a proper mate, so he made sure to bring you to several orgasm before he even fathomed pushing his cock into you.

The tip was oozing precum, rubbing against your hole as his feathers shook out. They really were pretty, and his cock stretched you out as he pushed in.

His feathers were soft, and you held onto them as he mated with you, his face burying itself into your neck. This is what he had wanted for so long…

After shooting thick ropes of cum inside of you, he carried you away and made you a comfy nest of blanket and pillows before using his feathers as a cover for you.

“I love you… please, be my mate…”

You yawned, a smile on your face. He looked vulnerable, his plumage puffing out slightly in anticipation.

“Okay…”

His eyes lit up, but he yelped when you plucked one of his feathers. “I’ll take this as my wedding ring…”

And the next day he couldn’t be prouder, seeing you with his feather pinned to your apron.

Want more of this guy? Commission me :3

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