#i already submitted this shit. its over for me

[spikesbunny]

I have vision in my mind..Reader pegging Dante since he deserved to be pampered and spoiled. Why not his s/o take care of him?

+ an: nonnie i think i love this... your mind is a beautiful thing i hope yk that

minors DNI!!

when dante told you he was open to try anything in bed, you thought he was just exaggerating. after all, he tended to do that a lot, and say a lot of things he really didn't mean. so you didn't ponder too hard on what kind of kinks he wanted to try. normally, he'd just ask to swap it up a bit, check in to see if you wanted to try something new.

however, dante never told you about his pegging kink. at least, not explicitly. whenever you two walked into sex stores, him giggling like an adult child, his eyes seemed to linger on the straps. you didn't pay much mind, figuring it was just male fascination. i mean, who wouldn't be amazed by the fact women could imitate penitration?

he would always stall in the lube section, looking at the different options. he'd often making jokes about trying them out, before setting them down.

it didn't click in your head until lady slipped up one day. you had gone out for a drink with her, laughing and gossiping at the bar. the liquor started talking on her end, resulting in a major slip up - although, now that you think back on it, it wasn't really a bad one.

"ya know" she started, tossing back another shot. "dante says some nasty, depraved things about you... or more so, about himself." that got you to perk up, raising an eyebrow.

"oh yea, like what?" you questioned. you were thinking maybe eating from the back, or fucking in public. your mind didn't think about the possible different kinks he had, he always just seemed experimental. more of 'how far can i stretch the title of vanilla'.

"well, he told me he wants to be pegged. by you."

pegged??? you think, recalling anytime where he may have discreetly tried bringing this up.

dante had mentioned anal, and the lingering gazes on the straps started clicking in place. he didn't necessarily mean anal on you, he meant on him. "oh my god" you gasp, finally realizing.

"listen, between me and you, i know you're gonna try it. probably tonight." lady wasn't wrong. she slides you over a bottle of lube discreetly, smirking. "there's half the cost for the night. tell dante to add it to his tab."

you chuckle, thanking lady for the... gift?

an hour later, you find yourself out of the bar, a bag containing a new strap-on in your hand, and the lube nudged into your purse. you were on a mission - to make dante not only confess his kink, but also absolutely ruin him - just like he wanted.

you enter the office, taking note of your boyfriend, sprawled out on his chair, feet kicked up on the desk. "hey baby" he purrs, eyes flicking over you with a smirk. "good night out? seems like ya went shopping. whatcha get?"

"oh, its more for you than me." you reply, setting the bag down on the table. dante eagerly sits up, taking notice of the box. "damn, wrapped all pretty, what did ya buy?"

"open it" a command. it left him no room to argue. delicately, he takes the lid off, expecting a sexy piece of clothing or something.

dante's face flushes. he swallows, thickly. he was so unsure what to think, how did you know?

"this for me?" he ask, looking up to meet your eyes. god, he looked pretty, batting his eyelashes up at you like this. you wondered how it would be seeing dante crumbled beneath you on the sheets.

"wanna go try it out?"

he nods, quickly getting up from the table, making his way to the room. you swore you saw him shiver, taking joy in the way the devil was ready to submit already.

once entering the bedroom, you find dante sitting on the edge of the bed, almost waiting for you. shit, he had made quick work of his clothes, his shirt and pants tossed somewhere in the room, coat lazily slung over the side of the bed.

"go lay down, ass up" you coo to him, watching the him crawl over to the pillows, pressing his face into them as he arched his ass up for you. god, you didn't now he could be so submissive, yet watching this was more than you could ever ask for.

you didn't know you needed this until now.

you settle behind dante, knees sinking into the mattess. "gonna be good f' me?" you ask, grabbing his bulge through his boxers, earning a shaky moan.

"mhm... yes, please" he pants out, peaking out from the pillows. his tan skin was burning up as he eyes the box. you had settled it on the side of you, removing his boxers.

dante shivers as you pour lube down his ass, a finger circling his pucker. "please?" he mewls, burying his face into the pillows once again, desperately awaiting the feeling of one finger sinking in.

"gonna take good care of you." you whisper against his back, planting a chaste kiss, before pressing one finger in.

you didn't even know dante could moan like this. his hips jolt forward, hands gripping the sheets desperately as you curl a digit in his hole. it was tight, running over his walls, feeling him clench.

how come you hadn't connected the dots earlier? you had missed out on so much....

dante whimpers as you press in a second, scissoring your two fingers to open him up a bit more. you press the pads of your fingers against his prostate, watching how he falls apart under you.

you had a devil hunter, a son of sparda, begging for you to just fuck him. either you were the luckiest person alive, or the stupidist.

"c'mon baby, take a lil more. you can take another finger, right?" you ask, watching his white hair move in a shaky nod.

you slide in a third digit, dante crumbling under you. his legs were giving out, pants and groans falling from his lips in a choir.

he melts into the sheets, the stretch a burn that he craved. he had dreamt of this many nights, waking up in a cum coated mess. you, fucking his ass, making him submit to you. he liked this, the power swap. it was always him on top.

and you were willing to pamper him.

you pull your fingers out, earning a whine of complaint from dante. you shush him, opening the box to assemble the strap around your hips. he listens to the rustling, shivering in anticipation. he had been waiting for this moment, and now, you were going to give it to him.

you press the tip to his hole, watching as he attempted to fuck back against you. smirking, you finally - slowly - enter, feeling his body melt back into the mattress. soft 'fucks' escape his lips, his body surrendering to you.

dante whines as you bottom out, panting into the fabric of the pillows. your name is a mantra on his lips, his back arching as you preform a test roll. he seems ready.

slowly, you pull out, building up pace as the devil hunter's orgasm builds up again. he wasn't going to last long, there was no way - his mind was going fuzzy, the feeling of the strap's head dragging against his walls and bumping his prostate had him shaking.

his cock twitches, your hand reaching down to gently stroke it, bringing him closer to the verge of an orgasm. dante was close, real close.

your hips slam against his ass, his body collapsing against the sheets as he moans pathetically, humping into your hand. his pleading started again, begging for you to give him an orgasm. and who were you to deny, after he'd be so good for you?

dante cums, white ropes seeping into the sheets as he drops his body, unable to support himself anymore. you help him ride out his orgasm, giving a few last thrust, before pulling the strap out.

leaning down, you press a kiss to his neck, earning a muffled thank you.

he was a mess, and so were the sheets. "c'mon, dante, let's go clean up, hm?" he groans, shaking his head.

oh well, he deserved a break after you ruined him.

©2025 spikesbunny- please do not repost/translate my works on other media sites ♡

[lord-shitbox]

Ohhhh my godddd. ironically between calculus 3 & linear algebra I'm struggling with linear algebra more, NOT because it's really hard—it isn't, it's exactly as easy as the name suggests—but bc it's the type of easy basic stuff that leads to a lot of the tiny errors, like writing -4 instead of 4 or fucking up 3- -2, which then fucks over your whole problem. Like, adding and scaling rows of numbers is really easy to do, BUT ALSO really easy to fuck up without noticing, and therefore frustrates the shit out of me. it's EASY so I shouldn't be getting it WRONG

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[realcube]

hot take alert: tsukishima kei prefers to praise over degrade BUT he is so sarcastic that it feels like degradation

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

// tw ;; vaginal, impact play, praise/degradation, breeding mentions & rough sex

"that's right." he hums, while drilling into your aching pussy from behind, with his hand settled upon the apex of your back to keep you in place, "such a good fucking girl f' me." he slurs, adjusting his glasses which were rattling on his face with every harsh thrust, before returning his fingers to their rightful position — circling your clit at an agonising pace.

"k— kei!" you squeal. the side of your face was smushed against the pillow, and tears were clouding your vision from the way he was brutally pounding into you. still, out of the corner of your eye, you're able to catch a glimpse of the shit-eating grin plastered on his face. you were unsure what amused so greatly: maybe it was the fact his praise was thinly-veiled mockery, or maybe he just relished in knowing how well he was fucking your brains out — as you weren't especially good at hiding it.

you were laid out before him, feebly clutching at the sheets for an inkling of solace as his cock slammed into you at a dizzying rate. strings of profanities and pornographic moans fell from your lips, while your walls were already fluttering around his cock like you were gunna climax. not to mention your trembling legs.

"aw, is my princess close already? i barely started. you must love this too much." he huffed out a chuckle, hips unrelenting even as he spoke scornfully. "it's okay. some girls can't handle big dick." he caresses your back, his tender touch in stark contrast to his contemptuous tone. " its nothing to be embarrassed about. you're good for other things, sweetie." his voice dripped with honey and caramel; it was almost convincing.

"ngh— no." you lied through your gritted teeth, denying that you're ready to orgasm.

for that you received a fierce smack on the ass, followed by tsukishima squeezing the flesh in his hand, "then why's your pussy gripping me like a fucking vice?" he rasps through a clenched jaw, irritation clear in his tone as he struggles to maintain speed when your walls are clamping down on him.

"that's jus— ah!" you whimper as he lands another harsh smack on your ass, but this one is enough to send you hurtling over the edge. your toes curled and your entire body shuddered as you submit to the intense climax that overcomes you.

"aw, look at that. so pretty, even when you finish." tsukishima teases, massaging your waist and continuing to fuck you through your high, despite how your twitching cunt made it impossible for him to suppress his own orgasm. "must be enjoying yourself, huh?" he comments, directed to how your hips rock back aimlessly against his cock.

"mmph.." is all you're able to groan, fully relaxing onto the bed, entirely worn out from your ride.

"awh, sweetie, you're saying that you're going to lay there and let me use you until i cum?" he jokingly interprets your muffled grumble as something you certainly did not say, but it doesn't feel like a joke when his hips start speeding up and resuming his ferocious thrusting.

"and you're saying you want me to cum inside that pretty hole and fill you up?" he taunts, still stroking your waist in his big hands as he plows into your glistening cunt, "well, aren't you just my perfect angel."

[rafesangelita]

♡ #400 ‘orgazm generator’ - position request

warnings: dbf!rafe x swan!reader , lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft sex (?), little bit of overstimulation, light fluff

“you were flawless tonight, baby, i can’t believe how perfect that performance was.” rafe praised you, taking a seat in the velvety cushioned chair in the corner of his bedroom. you smiled sweetly, the sight tugging on rafe’s heartstrings. “you really think so?” you let your hair down from its slick bun, sighing in relief once you felt the tension leave the roots of your hair. rafe admired you from across the room, humming in agreement as you got undressed, leaving yourself in nothing but a matching set you put on for this exact moment. “how about another performance? except this one’s just for you..”

in minutes, rafe’s clothes, along with your bra and panties were lost on the floor, his hands holding you up from the back of your thighs as he moved you up and down his cock. reaching down, you craded his head, letting out a hushed whisper of his name when you felt your clit meet his base. he gazed up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes as he bounced you on top of him with ease. “i knew you were flexible, but this is like.. fucking unreal..” rafe was in disbelief, his jaw falling slack as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him whole.

resting your hands on his chest, you leaned your weight on your palms before moving your hips in unison with his thrusts, the added effort not being lost on neither one of you. rafe cursed under his breath, his fingers digging harshly into your skin as your mouth fell open, your pretty moans sounding like music to his ears. meeting his gaze, rafe cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. “i love seeing you like this,” he confessed, “your face, your body.. i don’t know where to look when you’re just this fucking beautiful,” rafe groaned, his high approaching quickly.

“shit—!” he hissed, his hips coming to a stuttering stop as you continued moving, determined to make him cum and fall apart underneath you. “y/n— god..” he grunted, his eyebrows knitting together when he felt the plunge in his stomach, his orgasm washing over him as he looked like he wanted to cry at the searing pleasure alone. you were mesmerized at the sight, your chest blooming with pride as you watched this man crumble before your eyes. mouth falling agape, rafe couldn’t believe that as long as he had lived, this level of bliss could even exist.

taking the reigns as soon as he was able to think a single, clear thought, rafe stopped your movements in order to keep you from putting in any more work than you already had. “you’re too good to me.” were the last words you heard him say before he made you go into hysterics, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made fireworks burst in your tummy, your body threatening to double over as he rubbed your clit mercilessly until you cried, overstimulation setting in for both of you as you trembled in his embrace. “i think that was your best performance yet..” he sighed, his words making you smile against his skin.

submit your own req from here ! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[pawstriez]

“YES MA’AM? . . MORE LIKE YES MOMMY ! ” | jjk + aot

⟡ tags : sukuna + toji + gojo + nanami — a compilation of your favs and how they submit to you . . . content includes positions such as rimming, begging, thigh humping, handjob, blowjob, overstim??, size kink, bondage, pet names used ‘bby, pretty boy, mommy,’ etc. MDNI 19+ 8.0K WC

SUKUNA | bondage + slight handjob + cunninlingus

“oi, princess — gonna’ sit there all night or get this shit over with already?” sukuna questions you, who’s sitting rather delightfully for someone who knew damn well they were in a work of trouble after all this was over with, and as much as he would’ve loved to be the one to end this little power trip you were on, there were some . . obstacles in the way.

to name a few of those said obstacles : the infamous king was currently in a little bit of a knot, muscles on display as his usual mischievous smirk was now being replaced by a rather adorable scowl. his strong arms were bound behind his back, ropes digging into his skin all over — and oh! his thick dick, around 9-ish inches, standing proud and tall against his stomach, thumping every time you came near him. you knew he hated this - more than anything, but to see him surrendering, succumbing to you and only you . .

it was definitely something you’d take a few extra spanks to the ass for later.

“my, my . . don’t go gettin’ all bossy on me, kuna. are you forgetting who’s in charge?” you whisper near his ear, moving a hand to stroke his shaft slowly. you were like a shark scenting blood in water the way your hand began to move in circles, “look at you . .”

his eyes flashed with indignation even as his cock jumped at your words, flushed and leaking against his chiseled abdomen. “i should tear you from limb to limb for this — just for the fun of it, really.”

you chuckled darkly, fisting a hand in his hair and yanking his head back. “you should . . but you won’t. right? because deep down, you want to submit to me, don’t you, sukuna? wanna’ be brought to heel, made to beg and plead for release . .”

he snarled wordlessly but didn't deny it, straining against his bonds. you could see the conflict in his eyes, immense pride warring with dark, forbidden desire. slowly, testing, you trailed your fingers down his heaving chest, once again skimming teasingly light over his throbbing erection. he twitched, a strangled groan escaping through his gritted teeth. “just give in,” you coaxed silkily, cupping his heavy sack, rolling it in your palm. “surrender to me and i’ll make you feel so good, better than you ever imagined . .”

he glared up at you from the chair, mutinously but you could feel his resolve crumbling. grinding his jaw, he gave a single, jerky nod. triumph and dark arousal surged through you. the king of curses, deadly and proud, was yours to command.

unhurriedly, you stripped off your thin robe and kicked it aside. his corvine eyes raked over your bare form, pupils blown with lust. “open,” you instructed, stepping close and fisting his hair again. obediently, he parted his lips, letting you guide his face to your aching center.

the first hot swipe of his tongue between your folds made you gasp and shudder. he lapped at you again, more firmly, clearly savoring your taste. “that’s it,” you praised breathlessly, grinding against his face. “finally put that mouth to good use, make me drip all over you, yeah?”

he snarled into your cunt, tongue delving deeper, flicking over your throbbing clit. you keened, yanking at his hair as shocks of pleasure radiated through you. he licked and sucked voraciously, making obscene wet sounds as he ate you out. the fact that he was just about on his damn knees, servicing you, nearly undid you all on its own. “f-fuck, kuna,” you whined, head thrown back as he tongue-fucked your entrance, rubbing his nose against your clit. “jus’ like that, don’t stop, gonna’ c-cum, baby . .”

he moaned into you, doubling his efforts, devouring your cunt like a man starved. your thighs shook, stomach tightening as you hurtled towards your peak. you felt his teeth graze your clit and you shattered with a sharp cry, gushing into his eager mouth as you came — and he lapped up every drop, working you through the aftershocks until you had to push his head away, too sensitive. panting, you looked down at him, taking in his glossy, slick chin and wild, feverish eyes. “such a good boy,” you purred, thumbing over his wet, swollen lips. “i think you’ve earned a reward . .”

TOJI | blowjob + handcuffs lol :3

“color?” you checked as you finished securing toji’s cuffs to the headboard, sitting back to survey your handiwork.

“green,” he rasped immediately, testing the bonds. they held fast, keeping him splayed beneath you, entirely at your mercy. “very fuckin’ green.”

you smiled, trailing light fingers down his chest, teasing his dusky nipples. “good. y’know what to say if it gets to be too much.”

he shook his head stubbornly even as he arched into your touch with a bitten-off groan. “won’t need to. i can take anything you dish out.”

“mhmm, we’ll see about that,” you mused, pinching and tugging at his sensitive nubs until he was writhing. “by the time m’ done, you’ll be all fucked out.”

he shuddered, cock twitching where it lay thick and flushed against his abs, leaking steadily. “do your worst, sweetheart,” he goaded, eyes sparking challenge. grinning fiercely, you set about taking him apart with hands and mouth, mapping every ridge and valley of his powerful body. you traced the v cut of his hips with your tongue, mouthed teasingly at his inner thighs, ghosted hot breath over his aching cock. he cursed and bucked beneath you, muscles bunching and straining uselessly against the metal cuffs as you worked him into a frenzy.

“oh god . . fuck, [ ★ ], please,” he finally burst out as you lapped kitten-ishly at his weeping cockhead. “s-stop teasin’ me, baby!”

“i told you you’d beg, didn’t i?” you asked smugly, swirling your tongue around his throbbing cock. “ask me nicely for what you want, toji. maybe i’ll give it to you . .”

he threw his head back with a tortured groan, tendons standing out in stark relief as he fought his body's demands. “please,” he grated out. “please suck my cock. i need your mouth on me so bad —” you cut him off by swallowing him down to the hilt in one swift motion, nose nestling in his wiry curls. “a-agh, fuck!” he shouted, hips jerking instinctively, trying to fuck into your tight, wet throat. you held his bucking hips down easily, working him hard and fast, just the way he liked.

“fuck, baby, y-yes,” he babbled, head thrashing on the pillow. “god, your mouth, so fuckin’ good t’me . . m’not gonna’ last like this.”

you pulled off long enough to rasp out, “then don’t. i want to taste you, want you to come for me,” before sinking back down on him, humming around his thickness. toji cried out brokenly as his orgasm crashed into him, pulsing hot and bitter over your tongue. you worked him through it greedily, milking him until he was twitching and gasping from the intensity. when you finally released him, he was flushed and glassy - eyed, chest heaving as he came down.

“told you i could take it,” he slurred, a loopy half-smile tugging at his lips.

“aww, baby,” you whispered wickedly, crawling up his body to hover over him. “we’re jus’ gettin’ started.”

SATORU | rimming + toru calls you mommy

“tell me what you want,” you murmured as you trailed open-mouthed kisses down satoru’s quivering tummy, fingertips skimming teasingly light over his trembling inner thighs. “i’ll give you anything, everything, jus’ tell me . .”

he whined low in his throat, hips canting up needily as you breathed hot over his rigid cock, lips a mere whisper from his fevered skin. “please, [★], i need . .” he babbled, voice high and thready with desperation. “i need you inside me, opening me up, fucking m-me deep. please, please, please . .”

“shhh, i’ve got you love,” you soothed, pressing a kiss to his dripping cockhead even as you circled a slick finger around his fluttering rim. “jus’ relax for me, let me take care of you, honey.” — and he did, head lolling back and thighs falling open wantonly as you carefully breached him, sinking your finger into his clutching hole. he was so soft and smooth inside, muscles gripping your digit hungrily as you started a gentle in and out rhythm.

his cock twitched and leaked against his belly, untouched, as you worked him open reverently, carefully adding a second finger when he was pliant enough. he moaned brokenly, bearing down on the stretch and burn, greedy for more. “y-yes, like that,” he panted, hands fisting in the sheets. “fuck, it feels so good, mommy . .”

“i know, i know . . you’re such a good boy, huh? letting me touch you like this, letting me relax you,” you coo, and on that note, you twisted your wrist, crooking your fingers just right, and satoru jolted like he’d been nearly electrocuted, a ragged shout tearing from his throat.

“t-there!” he cried out, back arching clear off the mattress. “oh fuck, [★], right there, please!” you aimed for that spot mercilessly, milking his prostate with every push and pull of your hand. he was babbling wordlessly now, head thrashing on the pillow, legs shaking and stomach muscles fluttering as his pleasure mounted.

you knew he was close when his cock started to twitch and jerk against his belly, drooling copiously. anticipation coiled hot and tight in your gut as you fingered him faster, pressing hard on that secret bundle of nerves. “c’mon, toru,” you coaxed breathlessly, transfixed by the erotic sight of him. “let go for me, cum on mommy’s fingers.”

satoru does as he’s told, back bowing nearly in half as his orgasm ripped through him with a strangled cry of your name. hot ropes of pearly cum striped his chest and abs as he pulsed and clenched rhythmically around your fingers, milking them for all he was worth. you gentled him through the aftershocks, drawing out his pleasure until he was boneless and trembling, floating in post orgasmic bliss.

slowly, you withdrew your fingers, ignoring his whimper of loss. “you did so well,” you praised, kissing his slack, parted lips. “my perfect boy. think you can get it up for me one more time? wanna’ feel it splitting me open . .”

NANAMI | face sitting + he rides your thigh

nanami knelt naked and trembling, lean muscles pulled taut in anticipation as he waited for your next command. his hard, flushed cock jutted proudly from between his powerful thighs, dripping steadily onto the carpet. you’d been teasing him for what felt like hours, keeping him on a razor’s edge of pleasure and pain, never quite letting him find relief in any way at all.

“baby,” he finally rasped, voice scraped raw from begging. “please, [★], i need you.”

“mm-mm, tell me, kento,” you demanded, pacing around his kneeling form slowly. “tell me exactly what you need.”

he shuddered bodily, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “i-i need to cum, please, i’ll do anything, just let me cum — i can’t take anymore . .”

“hmmm.” you pretended to consider, though arousal simmered molten in your veins at his desperate plea. “you beg so pretty, baby. maybe . . maybe you’ve earned it, whaddo’ya say?”

“y-yeah, yes, yes,” he babbled, hope and relief suffusing his handsome face. “i’ll be so good for you, i swear, just tell me what you want from me -”

“your mouth,” you interrupted, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging his head back, baring the strong column of his throat. “i wanna’ ride your face til’ i cum, paint you in me. and if you do a good job, i’ll let you hump my thigh like the desperate slut you are until you make a mess all over both of us. how does that sound?”

“absolutely fucking perfect,” he breathed, pupils blown wide and dark with need. “anything, i want to taste you, wanna’ be soaked in you, sweetheart . .” you didn’t need to hear much further, moaning low in your throat, you sank down fully, your fingers weaving into his thick hair as smothered his face between your thighs. he immediately sealed his hot mouth over your dripping sex, lapping at you broad and greedy. you cried out sharply, hips rocking into the perfect pressure, luxuriating in the wet sounds of his enthusiasm.

he licked deep into your core, nose nudging your throbbing clit, hitting all your most sensitive spots with unerring accuracy. familiar heat started coiling deep in your belly as he worked you relentlessly, taking you apart with lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth.

“oh fuck, kento, s’ s’good . .” you gasped, grinding shamelessly against his face, chasing your pleasure. “you’re s’good for me, so perfect — m’getting close!”

he groaned into your cunt, doubling his efforts, tongue fluttering hummingbird-quick over your clit as he finger fucked your hungry cunt. your thighs quaked, pressure building to an impossible crescendo deep inside. you were already just seconds from shattering apart. then he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision white out as he sucked hard on your aching nub, and you were gone. completely gone. back arching, breath seizing, you came with a hoarse cry, gushing slick over his face and fingers as exquisite pleasure crashed through you in relentless waves.

he worked you through it, drawing out your peak until you were too sensitive and had to push him away weakly. panting, you looked down at him, his chin and cheeks glazed with your essence, eyes fever-bright as he stared up at you in awe. “was that - was i good?” he croaked, lips and chin shiny with your juices.

“so good,” you assured him, thumbing over his swollen mouth before bringing your slick fingers to your own lips for an indulgent taste. “now come here and take what you need. you've earned it.”

groaning brokenly, he surged up to wrap his arms around your hips desperately, rutting his painfully hard cock against your thigh. you held him steady as he took his pleasure, hips snapping frantically, chasing his long-awaited release.

“that’s it, kento,” you cooed, carding your fingers through his sweaty hair as he panted and mewled into your neck. “fuck my thigh just like that, get it all wet n’ filthy with your cum . .”

his broken sob was muffled against your throat as he finally let go, pulsing hot and messy between your bodies as he came completely untouched. you gentled him through it, murmuring praise and reassurance as he shook and gasped and clutched you like a lifeline.

after long moments, he gradually calmed, breath evening out. you continued to stroke his hair, his back, holding him close in the warm afterglow.

“you did so well, sweet boy,” you murmured into his hair. “took everything i gave you so beautifully. m’ so proud of you.”

he whimpered quietly, nuzzling into your neck. “thank you,” he rasped. “for letting me be good for you. i needed that so much.”

“i know baby.” you pressed a tender kiss to his temple. “you’re always s’good for me. my perfect, pretty boy. now let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. want me to hold you?”

he nodded against your skin, clinging tighter. you smiled, heart full to bursting with affection. seeing him like this - open, vulnerable, trusting you so implicitly - was a gift you’d never stop being grateful for, and one that’d never stop giving.

“i got you, ken,” you promised as you gathered him closer, turning to lead him to bed. “i’ll always take care of you, baby. always.”

SATORUBI 2024 | pls do not copy, steal, or modify my work !!! happy reading, luv u sluts <3 also tagging my bff @ramonathinks

[frudoo]

Somehow managing to tie Ghost to a chair, you just wanna play with your Lt's dick. Too bad(?) for you, he's good at breaking ropes.

I would love to be utterly wrecked by him

Warnings: Ghost is sick of your shit. SMUT, slight degradation, unprotected PIV, fem!reader. Overuse of italics lmao. MDNI.

It wasn’t easy, getting the Ghost to submit to you. It took months of breaking him down, getting him to trust you, to love you the way you love him. But now, with his wrists bound behind the chair he’s sitting on with those darkened brown eyes glaring at you through the mask, you can genuinely say it was worth it. Absolutely, most definitely worth it to see this huge man trembling beneath your gentle touch, whining when you refuse to give him attention where he needs you most. 

     “Fuckin’ ‘ell, love, just fuck me already,” he grits his teeth when you run your the tip of your tongue along the dimple between his bare pectorals, purposefully avoiding his puffy nipples. “I can’t feel m’arms.”

     “Do I need to gag you, Lieutenant?” You raise an eyebrow, dragging your tongue down his tensing stomach, dipping it into his navel to hear him gasp ever-so-slightly. 

     Ghost huffs in annoyance, bucking his hips up against your palm as you press it against the bulge in his jeans. He’s twitching, throbbing into your touch, precum already leaking through the layers of fabric. You’ve been teasing him for the better half of an hour, ignoring his pleas, but his entire neck and face has now turned a bright, vibrant red. It would be cruel not to give him some kind of relief at this point. 

     “You want me to let you out, baby? Hmm?” You coo, a faux sympathetic pout curling your bottom lip downward as you allow your fingertips to slip past the waistband of his boxers.

     If he was a dog, his ears would have perked up at your words. His broad chest starts heaving as he nods frantically, trying his hardest to hold back his desperate whimpers. 

     “Stop fuckin’ teasin’ me,” Ghost hisses, fists clenching behind his back when you remove your hand from his body altogether.

     “Mmm, not very nice, Lieutenant,” you tut mockingly, crossing your arms beneath your naked tits to push them together, showing off the cleavage he’s aching to lick. “Say please.”

     His jaw tenses, but he’s not one to turn down a direct order. 

     “Please.”

     “That’s more like it,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the chin of his balaclava while your nimble fingers work to unbuckle his jeans. 

     Finally free from its suffocating confines, his heavy cock bobs wildly as he lifts his hips to aid you in pulling off the rest of his clothing. His tip is so irritated it’s nearly purple, and you almost feel bad. Almost. You shimmy closer to him between his spread legs, taking his fat dick in one hand and resting the other on his muscular thigh. You run your teeth along the length of it before wrapping your lips around his entire girth and bobbing your head rapidly.

     “Fuuuck,” Ghost groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he throws his head back. 

     You hum around his sensitive cock, hollowing your cheeks to give him better suction. His legs are already trembling, sweat dripping down the entirety of his wide body as he bucks his hips up, trying to push himself deeper into your tight throat. You work him up until he’s right at that blissful edge, but before he reaches his peak, you pull your mouth off of him with a wet pop. A furious sob escapes Ghost’s throat and this time, you really do feel bad. 

     The remorse doesn’t last for long, though. You barely have time to scramble out from between his legs before he’s breaking free of his restraints and standing at his full height to tower over your frozen figure. He cracks his neck as the ripped rope slips down his bulging forearms and falls to the ground. He approaches quickly but silently, grabbing your waist and manhandling you onto all fours. 

     “Little fuckin’ minx,” He rasps, positioning himself behind you and running his cock through your already slick folds. “Think it’s fun teasin’ me like tha’? Huh? Struttin’ around with nothin’ on, shovin’ your tits in my face while m’all tied up an’ can’t touch you.” 

     He smacks the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, snickering at the way you yelp and push your ass further back, enticing him. He clicks his tongue, holding your hips still. 

     “Greedy, greedy,” Ghost teases, giving each of your asscheeks a sharp slap. “Why should I give it t’you, hm? Think y’deserve this cock after torturin’ me?”

     “Please,” you whine, “Ghost, please, I’m sor- ah!”

     Your plea is cut off when he feeds his entire length into your drooling pussy, stretching you out painfully but filling you up so, so full. It’s too much and yet not enough, the way he lets his tip hit the plug of your cervix before pulling out until you’re empty. He repeats this a few more times, spanking you in between each pump. 

     “Aw, wha’s wrong, baby? Need me t’fuck you?” 

     Pitiful babbles of yes, yes, yes spill from your lips, and finally, Ghost pushes inside and stays there, pulsing in sync with the clenching of your needy walls. 

     “Say please.”

     Fuck, you’re in for it now.

[senseandaccountability]

"I'm me again"

Yes well this is me getting a little sappy - again - about the spirits/demon thing as a metaphor for the human experience, must be Friday. 

(Yes, this is about Solas.)

Last night my Ingellvar was tending to the graves with Emmrich and she said “demons” and immediately corrected herself, because of course she meant spirits but people outside Nevarra so easily call them demons and Emmrich, one of the kindest and most insightful people in the entire DA verse, would of course never do that. Because he sees them all as spirits. Some of them may be twisted, embittered, furious and cruel but to him they are still, at heart, the same being as their more positive virtues. You are always you, as Solas tells Cole. 

Which is also what Solas argues for all of DAI.

Which is also what Solas personal quest actively shows us in DAI.

His friend, broken and twisted by the mages' bindings, dies a spirit of Wisdom, thanking him and telling him not to be sad. “I’m me again.”

Which is also a very strong theme in Solas entire arc. 

But it’s really not just Solas, or the elves. The eternal struggle of spirits is a reflection of the human soul and what it means to be human. What parts of you does the world let you cultivate, what parts are hidden and twisted in the dark, what virtues would you be remembered for if you died tomorrow? What sort of person have you become? What person could you be? DA is crammed with these themes.

Since the spirit reveal/confirmation, I’ve seen a lot of very detailed and very cool discussions about the specifics of spirit virtues and demon characteristics and that’s some good shit right there, but you can also be lazy like me and very much just read it as various aspects of human nature interacting with each other. We’re all so many things over our lifetime, to different people, in different contexts. We all carry such endless capacity for goodness and gentleness and we’re all so very capable of hurting each other.

In the codex entries we see Solas try over and over and over again to appeal to the better nature of the Evanuris. He is described as brilliant and wise, he is pulled out of the Fade specifically for his wisdom and he tries to get them to reflect that, to listen to his concerns, to use their powers differently. Why don’t you make creatures that can protect the People, he asks Ghilan’nain. Why do you need to push your power further, he asks Elgar’nan, the people are already submitting to your rule, why must you shackle them? War may have twisted him up already but there’s nothing he says that isn’t extremely valid and wise about the Evanuris’ approach to ruling.

But as we learn from the Spirit of Command in Crestwood in DAI, wisdom is considered a soft virtue in a world of war and hierarchy and his reasoning falls flat or gets interpreted as fear or insubordination. Unheard and undervalued, his wisdom grows sour and prideful. He isn’t wrong, he knows he isn't, and he will show them. You are not gods, I will make you see that you are not gods. I will humble you until you understand that I am right. 

This is a profoundly human experience.

The ancient elven empire ultimately falls to its own greed and hierarchies and lack of boundaries - all of which Solas pointed out, all of which he and his rebels opposed. But the Evanuris didn’t listen, they were caught in a power scheme where only individual power matters and everyone else becomes pawns. How ironic then that their empire falls to its own foolish pride and boundless cruelty against the Titans, the first children of the earth. They hurt themselves by hurting them. They wound the fabric that binds them all together. 

Solas as a character is an open, ongoing conflict between "spirit" and "demon" aspects, between light and dark, between identifying as a solitary creature or part of the whole. It’s never more visible than during the final act of DAV where he is at once Solas, standing with the Shadow Dragons against the blight. And also Fen’Harel, scheming to get there in the first place, treating people in his way like dehumanized pawns to reach his final destination, a goal that can be argued to be entirely tainted with pride at this point, a way to soothe his conscience and need to be right more than it’s a way to save the world. And he’s the Dread Wolf, physically embodying the struggle against the corrupt powers since he, unlike the Evanuris, doesn’t believe in binding creatures to fight his battles. It’s significant that while he fights alone, he cannot do it without help from Rook. Elgar’nan directs all of the blight at the Dread Wolf and it takes a sacrifice from the team to free him from its grasp. It’s a battle orchestrated by a god. 

And Solas, powerful as he may be, is not a god. 

That is why it’s so lovely to me that the ending isn’t just a matter between Solas and his conscience or between Solas and Rook or Solas and Lavellan. Because we are not single entities. We are not islands. That’s why we need each other, because we respond to each other, we affect each other, we abuse and love each other and we cannot really understand in which ways until we connect. We use each other to remind us of who we are, or who we could be. Every Benevolence needs a Wisdom, every Command needs a Compassion, every one of us needs someone else in some way, shape or form. We are not meant to be solitary. We all share Solas' deepest fear of dying alone. We all share Solas’ ongoing conflict with the better and worse parts of our nature. We all reflect each other. The ending brings in the past, the present and the person that knows Solas not as a god but as a person.

We are shattered fragments of a greater whole and it was, as Morrigan points out, Solas’s love for and loyalty to his people that set him on this course long ago. And he broke the world. He broke his people. He couldn’t save them, all the horrible things that he has done and he still couldn’t save them. Ultimately and emotionally to him, this isn’t about wisdom or pride or good or evil or any such dichotomy, this is about grief and regret and broken humanity.

That is why it’s so powerful to me that a romanced or friendly Lavellan is so kind to him in DAV. They approach him carefully, they kneel down beside him to make a connection, they are understanding and compassionate and it may not be what he deserves on some grand justice scale of things, but it is without question what he needs. Pride and regret and grief need compassion, hope and benevolence much more than it needs to be proven wrong or challenged, kindness breaks the cycle.

They reach out to him not the way one would reach out to a god, but to a person. Because that’s what Solas needs to be reminded of - his humanity. That’s what their love and friendship has always reminded him of, that's what the Inquisition taught him - that the world is worth caring about because broken as it may be, it is also full of people. 

And people matter. They might not matter to the Dread Wolf, but they have always mattered to Solas.

That's what the good ending represents.

"I'm me again." 

[witchingwithscissors]

Agathario AU | based on a post by @incorrectquotesmcu : “fucking commit to it.” ft. a sharp-tongued principal, a hot coach who won’t stop flirting, one kid with a bunny, and a coffee spill that ruins everything just right.

Monday.

There are mornings that fade into the rhythm of the school year. This wasn’t one of them.

Dr. Agatha Harkness turned the corner outside the Counseling office and walked directly into the beginning of a distraction she would spend the next several weeks pretending wasn’t happening.

A yelp.

The screech of sneakers on high-gloss tile. A cardboard drink tray skidding across the waxed hallway. One iced coffee launched upward, its plastic lid popping off like a cork.

Caramel splashed over Agatha’s forearm and across the top of her neatly stacked discipline reports.

“Oh my God—shit—sorry, I—didn’t see the floor was wet, there wasn’t a sign—was there a sign?”

Agatha blinked down at the mess, the sensation of cold sweetness soaking into her sleeve. The voice belonged to a woman already crouched at her feet, sleeves rolled back, trying to blot the spill with the edge of her own sweatshirt. It was pointless.

Agatha lowered herself slowly. “There was a sign.”

The woman looked up.

Dark curls frayed loose from a bun. Deep brown eyes, warm and wide. A lanyard swung forward as she shifted her weight, brushing against Agatha’s wrist. Vidal, Rio – PE / Girls Basketball.

Agatha knew who she was now. She also knew she needed to stand up before this turned into something else entirely.

The woman stood first. “Coach Vidal. First day.” She extended a hand.

Agatha took it. The shake was firm and unguarded, fingers still cool from the iced drink.

Touch #1.

The contact wasn’t supposed to linger—but it did.

“Dr. Harkness,” she replied. “Principal.”

Rio looked mortified, though her smile came through anyway—like it always wanted to. “I swear I’m better with spatial awareness when I’m not holding caffeine.”

Agatha stepped back. She didn’t smile, but her voice softened. “Then I expect the rosters reprinted before second period. No lamination required.”

“Copy that.” Rio saluted her with a dripping straw. “And for the record—I really am better in the gym.”

Agatha walked away, resisting the urge to look back. But she could still feel the ghost of Rio’s palm against hers. Still smell the faint trace of vanilla and sweat that clung to her collar even after she closed her office door.

Tuesday.

Faculty meeting. 7:55 a.m. The library conference pit always made everyone look grayer under its flickering bulbs. Agatha stood in front of a screen and worked through policy updates with clipped efficiency. The staff knew her cadence by now—new hires would learn.

Halfway through her restorative discipline section, a hand rose from the third row.

Rio.

“Would you ever consider tardy reflection sheets before automatic detention?” she asked. “Students write down why they were late and what they’d need to fix it. It helped when I taught 7th and 8th. Some of them are carrying a lot before 9 a.m.”

She wasn’t interrupting. She was… adding.

Agatha paused. “Submit a draft.”

Rio nodded, then sat back, rolling her pen between two fingers. Her hair was still damp from early practice—Agatha clocked it before she could stop herself.

After the meeting, most teachers drifted toward bagels. Rio lingered near the back of the room.

“Peace offering,” she said, handing Agatha a reprinted folder.

The lamination was uneven. A bubble formed near the spine. Agatha ran a thumb over it, not sure why the imperfection made her chest ache.

“Thank you,” she said. “You weren’t out of line. Reflection is a good idea.”

Rio looked briefly startled. Then pleased. “You’re the first principal who hasn’t brushed me off mid-sentence.”

“I only do that when staff say something foolish,” Agatha replied. She meant it to land crisp—but it came out warm. Too warm.

Their fingers brushed again.

Touch #2.

Agatha pulled back, pulse sharp beneath her collar. Her office still smelled faintly of sweet milk from the coffee spill, and now—now it smelled like Rio.

She closed her door five minutes early and sat with the laminated folder in her lap.

Wednesday.

In the lounge between lunch blocks, Agatha passed Rio sitting on the floor with three kindergarteners playing a cooperative beanbag toss game. She was barefoot—again—and laughing so easily Agatha had to look away.

Later, Rio passed her in the hallway, hoodie zipped halfway, cheeks flushed from 8th-grade dodgeball.

“Did the blazer make it through the cleaners?” she asked.

Agatha kept walking but allowed, “Mostly. Unlike my dignity.”

Rio grinned, easy and unbothered. “I owe you a splash-free coffee.”

Agatha paused. One breath. Then: “I don’t drink coffee.”

But it didn’t sound like a no.

Friday.

The fundraiser was bedlam wrapped in raffle tickets and frosting. K–8 families filled the gym: balloon animals, bake sale tables, a noisy pop-a-shot competition run by Rio, who had somehow charmed every third grader into lining up twice.

Agatha’s son, Nicky, six and wild-haired, clung to her hand with his beloved stuffed rabbit squashed against his chest. The thing had been through the wash a hundred times—its ears were permanently lopsided.

He tugged at Agatha’s wrist. “That’s her, Mama! The tall one! She helped me make three baskets!”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Coach Vidal?”

“She fixed Bun’s ear, too.”

Wanda—ex-wife, ER pediatrician, observant as ever—arrived a few minutes later. “You’re smiling,” she said, dryly.

“It’s the event,” Agatha replied.

“Mmhmm.” Wanda glanced across the room. “That the coach?”

“Yes.”

“She’s pretty.”

Agatha gave her a sharp look. Wanda smirked and took Nicky’s hand.

Later, as Agatha tallied silent auction forms, Rio passed close behind her—close enough to brush fingertips against hers while handing her a stray entry slip.

Touch #3.

Not deliberate. Not not deliberate.

“Your son’s a menace,” Rio said softly. “And smart.”

Agatha nodded, but her voice caught. “He’s fond of you.”

“I’m fond of him, too.”

Their eyes held for a second too long.

Rio’s voice dropped further. “You’ve been on your feet all night. There’s a caramel rabbit at the bake sale with your name on it. I stashed one under the table.”

Agatha didn’t answer. But an hour later, she left the gym with a small white paper bag tucked inside her blazer pocket.

The house was quiet. Nicky was asleep with the rabbit tucked under his chin. Agatha stood in the kitchen, glass of wine untouched on the counter, reading and re-reading a text that had just come in.

Coach Rio Vidal: Hope you made it out alive. Pretty sure I’ve got frosting in my hair.

She typed back. 

Agatha: Thank you for helping. Nicky wouldn’t stop talking about you.

She almost added: You looked good tonight…

She deleted it. Instead she wrote: He liked the rabbit thing. That meant something to him.

Rio’s reply came five minutes later.

Coach Rio Vidal: Bun is my new best friend.

Followed by a photo of the rabbit tucked inside her hoodie pocket, looking vaguely smug.

Agatha smiled, closed her phone, and stared out the dark kitchen window.

She had no plan for what came next. Only that her skin still remembered where their fingers had touched. And her son had laughed harder that day than he had in weeks.

Across town, Rio lay flat on her back in a too-warm apartment, hair still wet from a rushed shower, hoodie bunched under her spine. She had a dozen half-written messages in her Notes app. She wasn’t usually careful like this.

Agatha was sharp, elegant, and clearly trying not to notice her.

But Rio did notice her.

How she rarely smiled but always watched. How she spoke quietly but carried weight in every word. How she touched her son’s shoulder like it was holy.

She typed.

Rio: I like talking to you. Maybe you could show me around sometime?

Then deleted it.

Eventually, she sent just what felt safer.

Rio: Tell Nicky I’ll bring him a practice jersey. If he promises not to beat me in a free throw contest.

She hit send. Then rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, feeling warmth rise and settle behind her ribs.

She was definitely in trouble.

But she hadn’t wanted something in a long time.

And Agatha Harkness was worth wanting.

Monday.

Rio started leaving her office door slightly open.

Just enough to be inviting. Not enough to be obvious.

Agatha didn’t acknowledge it. But she noticed. She always did. The PE office was across from hers, nestled behind the gym’s east stairwell. Technically convenient. Emotionally treacherous.

By Wednesday, Agatha began walking that hallway more often.

She told herself it was about morning supervision. But every time she passed and caught the sound of Rio’s low voice behind the door—soft music, a laugh, the scratch of a pen—something unspooled low in her chest.

She never paused. But she started walking slower.

Tuesday.

Mid-morning. Warm for early spring. The blacktop smelled like chalk dust and sun.

Agatha stepped outside with her coffee. K–2 was at recess. Nicky ran past her, stuffed rabbit clutched in one hand, yelling about a spaceship. Somewhere nearby, jump ropes slapped pavement.

Rio crouched beside a second grader, showing her how to catch a kickball.

She stood when she saw Agatha, brushing gravel from her palms. Her shirt clung to her back from coaching drills. A faint pink flush crept up her neck beneath the messy bun. There was a smear of purple paint on her forearm.

“Didn’t expect to see you off-campus,” Rio teased gently.

Agatha raised a brow. “This is still campus.”

“Barely.” Rio stretched her arms over her head. Agatha looked away too fast.

“Nice turnout for recess,” Agatha said.

“Hard to compete with bunnies and beanbags,” Rio replied, nodding toward a small group drawing rabbits in chalk near the fence.

Nicky was among them.

“He’s good at basketball,” Rio said. “Stubborn about it.”

“I can’t imagine where he gets that,” Agatha murmured.

Rio turned. Their eyes held for a beat. A little too long.

Then Rio reached into her back pocket. “Reflection sheet draft.”

She held it out.

Agatha took it, and their fingers met.

Touch #4.

The paper crinkled between them. Agatha felt the callus on Rio’s index finger, the soft skin along her knuckle.

She let go too quickly and told herself it was professional.

Wednesday.

The staff room was overfull. Agatha arrived last. Only open seat? Next to Rio.

Rio didn’t move. She didn’t say anything, either—just shifted her water bottle to give Agatha more room.

Agatha sat, posture precise. She opened her salad. Ate without speaking.

Rio bit into an apple. The scent of it—tart and sweet—brushed the edge of Agatha’s awareness. It was unbearable, how good it smelled. How close she was.

“You always look like you’re solving a puzzle,” Rio said finally.

“I usually am.”

“Big one?”

Agatha didn’t answer.

Rio smiled faintly, then softened. “You’re not easy to read. I think that’s why I like talking to you.”

Agatha froze, fork mid-air.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, voice low.

“Why?” Rio’s tone stayed quiet. Not teasing. Just wondering.

“Because I’m your boss.”

Rio looked down. “Right.”

She folded her apple core into her napkin. For the first time, she didn’t meet Agatha’s eyes.

Agatha stood to leave. She hesitated. Reached to steady her chair—and her hand brushed Rio’s shoulder.

Touch #5.

Rio’s body stilled. The contact lingered half a second longer than it should have.

Agatha let go and walked out without looking back.

Thursday.

That morning, there was a chocolate bunny on Agatha’s desk.

Wrapped in gold foil. No note.

She didn’t need one.

At 3:07 p.m., she passed Rio in the hallway and said only, “Thank you.”

Rio blinked. “For what?”

Agatha fought a smile. “It had caramel.”

Rio’s eyes sparkled. “You seem like a caramel person.”

“Is that an insult?”

“Uh, no. It’s a compliment. Chocolate people are emotionally avoidant.”

Agatha didn’t say anything, but she walked away with warmth in her throat she couldn’t quite swallow.

The next morning, another bunny appeared—this one with dark chocolate and raspberry. It was their thing now. She’d never admit it, but she looked forward to it.

After practice, Agatha stopped by the gym.

Nicky sat on the bleachers, rabbit on his lap. He wasn’t talking. He was watching.

Rio was coaching the 6–8 girls—running layup drills, calling encouragement, laughing when someone missed wildly and blamed the ball.

Agatha leaned against the doorframe. She couldn’t hear what Rio was saying, but her gestures were expressive—gentle corrections, soft claps, a fist bump with a nervous sixth grader.

Nicky turned to Agatha and whispered, “She’s nice to everyone.”

“She is,” Agatha said.

“I like when she laughs.”

“Me too.”

The words came out before she could stop them.

Nicky tilted his head. “Do you like her like her?”

Agatha blinked. “That’s a complicated question.”

He hugged his rabbit. “You smile more when she’s here.”

Agatha felt it like a slow exhale. “You’ve been watching me too closely.”

“Only a little,” he said. “She watches you too.”

Friday.

It was raining lightly by dismissal. Agatha stood outside under the covered walkway, waiting for the last wave of carpool.

Rio approached from the staff parking lot, hoodie up, curls clinging damp to her cheekbones.

They stood in the quiet, just the sound of water tapping against metal.

“You walk in the rain?” Agatha asked.

“Better than traffic.”

Agatha exhaled through her nose. “You’re reckless.”

Rio stepped closer. “You’re careful enough for both of us.”

It wasn’t flirtation. It was truth.

Agatha looked at her. Really looked.

Her mouth. Her eyes. The drop of water on her collarbone.

Rio didn’t move—but she didn’t step back either.

Agatha shifted. One inch closer. Another.

Then her phone buzzed.

She flinched.

Rio took a breath. The moment folded in on itself.

Agatha looked away. “I have to go.”

Rio nodded. “Of course.”

But as Agatha walked off, she heard Rio’s voice—low, certain.

“I wouldn’t have kissed you. Not unless you wanted me to.”

Agatha’s throat tightened.

She didn’t look back.

But she did want.

She just wasn’t ready to want out loud.

That night, she found a drawing in her bag. A rabbit in a gym jersey. Labeled “BunBun Coach.”

Nicky’s handwriting. Crayon.

Agatha sat on the floor of the kitchen, her knees drawn to her chest, and held the drawing in both hands.

She’d gone so long without feeling wanted by someone who didn’t need her.

And now—here it was. Quiet. Consistent. Sweet as caramel.

Monday.

Agatha had started leaving the seat next to her open during staff meetings.

Not on purpose. But she noticed when Rio sat there. And she noticed—more carefully—when she didn’t.

This time, Rio arrived late, her curls still damp from early drills, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. She slid into the seat just as Agatha closed her laptop.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“You’re fine,” Agatha said without looking.

But her pulse betrayed her.

They didn’t talk during the meeting. But when it ended, Rio stayed seated. So did Agatha. Just long enough for it to be noticed.

Just short of giving it away.

Tuesday.

It was a nothing moment. A hallway crossing near the gym between fifth period and sixth. Rio leaned against the wall beside the drinking fountain, hair tied up, cheeks pink from effort. She was talking softly with a sixth grader who looked ready to cry.

Agatha paused at a distance.

She didn’t interrupt. Just watched.

Rio crouched to the student’s eye level, said something that made the girl nod and wipe her face, and gave her a small fist bump.

The girl walked off.

Rio stood slowly. Caught Agatha’s gaze across the hall.

Agatha didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

But she held Rio’s gaze a second too long.

And she didn’t look away when Rio smiled.

Wednesday.

They were alone in the gym after a board meeting ran late. Rio was cleaning up stray cones and water bottles. Agatha had lingered, notebook in hand, the only sound the soft creak of sneakers on hardwood.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Rio asked.

Agatha looked up. “Of what?”

“Being the one who has to know everything. Solve everything.”

Agatha paused.

Rio sat on the edge of the bleachers, cradling a ball in her hands. “You always look like you’re bracing for impact.”

Agatha stood still for a moment. Then: “That’s not entirely wrong.”

Rio rolled the ball between her palms. “I used to fake injuries to avoid scrimmage. Not because I couldn’t play. Just… I was tired of pretending I liked who I was supposed to be.”

Agatha crossed the court. Stopped a few feet away. “And now?”

Rio looked up. “Now I’d rather be underestimated and honest than impressive and empty.”

Agatha swallowed hard. “I don’t think you’re either.”

There was silence. The kind that didn’t demand to be filled.

Then Agatha sat beside her. Close—but not touching.

They shared the silence. And something in it felt warm.

Friday.

It happened in the hallway near the side entrance. The one no students used. The one that always smelled like lemon wax and felt too quiet.

They had walked there together after a late fire drill review. The air was cool. Rio’s hoodie sleeves were pushed up. Agatha’s blazer hung unbuttoned.

Rio reached for the door.

Agatha touched her wrist.

Touch #6.

Rio stilled. Turned slowly.

Their eyes met.

It was barely anything—just a flicker. A moment folding in on itself.

Agatha said, “I shouldn’t.”

Rio said, “Then don’t.”

But neither of them moved.

Then Rio stepped in—not bold, not timid. Just close. Close enough that Agatha could smell citrus shampoo, could hear her breath catch.

Agatha didn’t think.

She just leaned.

And then they were kissing.

It wasn’t perfect—angled too quickly, breath uneven—but it was real. It was heat curling between ribs. It was the sensation of falling into something she’d already been halfway inside for weeks.

Rio cupped her face, not to hold her in place—just to feel her.

Agatha broke the kiss first.

Not because she wanted to.

But because she had to.

She stepped back like it cost her.

Rio didn’t chase. Her voice was steady. “You okay?”

Agatha nodded.

Lied.

That might, Agatha sat in the dark of her kitchen, Nicky asleep upstairs.

She hadn’t told anyone.

But the kiss was still there.

Pressed into her mouth. Her throat. Her ribs.

She hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Not since the divorce. Not since she stopped hoping someone would want all of her—the mother, the principal, the complicated woman behind all that control.

And Rio had wanted her.

Not despite all that.

Because of it.

Which was exactly why it scared her senseless.

Saturday.

Nicky crawled into her bed before sunrise, rabbit tucked under one arm.

He yawned against her side.

“Coach Rio’s nice,” he mumbled.

Agatha ran a hand through his hair. “She is.”

“She likes you,” he said.

Agatha closed her eyes.

“She likes you like you,” he added sleepily.

Agatha didn’t speak.

Not for a long time.

Thursday.

Agatha had started letting it show.

She didn’t pull her hand away when Rio’s fingers brushed hers during dismissal. She stopped pretending her smiles were for students when they weren’t. And she started carrying a chocolate heart in her coat pocket like it meant something. Because it did.

She still hadn’t said the word girlfriend. But she’d stopped pretending she wasn’t thinking about it.

Rio didn’t ask for more. But she noticed the shift.

She noticed everything.

Friday.

Rio drove them north to the coast—somewhere outside Westview, where no one knew who Agatha Harkness was or what she was afraid of becoming.

They ate shrimp tacos on a candlelit patio, drank two glasses of wine each, and argued playfully over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. Rio said yes. Agatha said obviously not.

There was lightness between them—uncomplicated, real.

But Agatha kept feeling the weight of everything unspoken.

The boardwalk was cool beneath their bare feet. The wind carried the smell of salt and warm sugar. They passed a carousel, quiet now. A couple kissed beside it, tucked into their own world.

Rio’s hand brushed Agatha’s once.

Then again.

But didn’t stay.

Agatha stopped walking.

Rio turned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

And then she saw Agatha’s face.

Still. Focused. But cracked wide open.

“You keep pulling away,” Agatha said, voice low and trembling. “Like you’re doing me a favor.”

“I just didn’t want to put pressure on you,” Rio said carefully. “Not when you’ve come so far.”

Agatha stepped forward.

“I’m not scared of pressure,” she said. “I’m scared of wanting something I might lose. I’m scared of how much I feel when you’re close.”

Her throat closed around the next words.

“I’ve spent years pretending I was fine being alone. And then you show up and I start… cooking again. Laughing at lunch. Remembering how it feels to want someone.”

Her voice cracked now—honest and breaking.

“So if you’re going to keep touching me like you mean it—”

Her fingers closed around Rio’s hand.

“—then fucking commit to it.”

Rio stared at her. Breathless.

Then, quietly she smiles. “You think I haven’t wanted you since I spilled coffee in the hallway?”

That was all it took.

Agatha leaned in at the same time Rio did.

The kiss wasn’t neat. It was slightly off-center, a little too fast—like they both forgot what it meant to hold back.

But it was good. Real. Deep.

Agatha’s hand curled around Rio’s like it had that first week in the hallway. This time, she didn’t let go.

Halfway through, Rio pulled back just enough to breathe. Her forehead rested against Agatha’s. “I never stopped thinking about that coffee spill.”

Agatha smiled. “You spilled it.”

Rio grinned. “Exactly.”

They kissed again. Slower. Warmer. And when it ended, they stood there silently, listening to the ocean and the echo of their hearts.

Later, in the passenger seat of Rio’s car, Agatha pulled something from her blazer pocket.

A crinkled foil heart.

She dropped it onto Rio’s lap.

Rio looked down. Then back at her.

“I kept it,” Agatha said softly. “The first one you gave me.”

Rio closed her fingers around it. “I’m keeping this one.”

Monday.

They walked into school together.

Agatha carried her coffee in one hand. Rio’s arm brushed hers.

A seventh grader looked up. Whispered. Giggled.

Agatha reached up and gently tucked a stray curl behind Rio’s ear.

“You have lipstick on your neck,” she said, low enough to be private. Then she kissed the spot just below Rio’s jaw—soft, quick, certain.

The student blinked.

Agatha smiled. “Morning.”

After school and over apples and cheddar slices, Nicky looked up and asked, “So… is Coach Rio your girlfriend now?”

Agatha nodded. “Yes. She is.”

Nicky reached into his backpack. Pulled out a foil-wrapped bunny.

“I saved it,” he said. “You can give it to her.”

Agatha took it, heart tight.

“You don’t have to tell her it was mine,” Nicky added, grinning. “But she’ll know.”

Then, quietly, “You used to only make eggs. Now you make waffles again.”

“You started doing nice things again.”

Agatha didn’t answer.

Tuesday.

Agatha didn’t flinch when Rio stepped into her office without knocking.

She looked up from her desk, hair loose, glasses slipping, and smiled before she realized she was doing it.

“You’re not bracing anymore,” Rio said softly, a smile curling at her mouth.

Agatha set down her pen. “You noticed.”

Rio shrugged. “I’ve been looking at you for a while.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair and said, without deflection: “I like when you do.”

Rio stayed leaning against the doorway, casual, but her gaze was full.

“You want dinner Friday?”

Agatha nodded. “And breakfast Saturday.”

Monday.

Agatha emailed HR.

In a relationship with Coach Vidal. No supervisory connection. I’ll recuse from evaluations if needed.

She copied all parties needed and moved on with her day.

When she told Rio that night, Rio said nothing at first—just stepped into her space and pressed a hand to Agatha’s waist.

“You’re making a place for me,” she said, forehead against Agatha’s cheek.

Agatha closed her eyes. “You were already here.”

Friday.

Wanda met them at the market after work—her and Rio, hands full of oranges, and Nicky skipping ahead with BunBun slung over his shoulder like a soldier.

She eyed them both. “You’re holding hands in public now.”

Agatha didn’t let go.

“I’m proud of you,” Wanda said, voice low but firm. “Not because of her. Because you look… happy.”

“I am,” Agatha said.

Wanda looked between them and said, “Want me to take Nicky next weekend?”

Agatha blinked. “Seriously?”

“You two deserve a night where you get to be women, not just moms and educators.”

Rio grinned. “She really is a good ex.”

Agatha gave Wanda a small, sincere smile. “Thank you.”

Wanda touched her arm once, brief. “Just be kind to each other.”

Agatha didn’t cook. She ordered Thai food and changed into leggings and one of Rio’s old college basketball hoodies.

Rio kissed her on the mouth before the food arrived.

“I’ve thought about tonight in so many ways,” she said simply. “I want you.”

Agatha exhaled, shaky and warm. “Then take me seriously.”

“I already do,” Rio whispered. “I have since week three.”

Agatha pulled Rio to her, kissed her again—deeper, longer.

Their delivery driver knocking broke them apart. Agatha grabbed the food, slightly flushed and hungry for something not in the white takeout bag. They ate on the floor with reality TV murmuring in the background. Later, they curled into each other on the couch, Rio’s hand over Agatha’s heart like it had always been meant to rest there.

Saturday.

The next morning, Agatha poured two mugs of tea. Left Rio’s on the nightstand without waking her.

She padded down the hall, barefoot, robe dragging, and found Nicky in the kitchen smearing cream cheese on half a bagel.

“Is she staying for breakfast?” he asked.

“She’s still asleep.”

Nicky nodded. “You smile more when she’s here.”

Agatha kissed the top of his head. “She makes it easier.”

Sunday. 

They didn’t make an announcement.

But Agatha started saying “we” when Rio wasn’t in the room. She brought her to a school event. She slipped her a piece of chocolate during a meeting. She reached for her hand in the parking lot and didn’t care who saw.

Rio started keeping a hair tie in the bathroom drawer. Left one of her college hoodies on the hook behind the bedroom door. Made waffles or omelettes or oatmeal with Nicky on Saturdays like it had always been part of the plan.

One evening, after they’d eaten and Nicky had fallen asleep between them on the couch, Agatha looked at Rio in the low light and said, “You’re not just someone I want. You’re someone I trust.”

Rio leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her jaw.

“I know,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Agatha’s office door was open.

Rio stepped inside without asking, hair wind-tossed from recess, clipboard tucked under one arm.

“You busy?” she asked.

“No.”

Rio stepped closer.

Agatha stood.

She cupped Rio’s jaw with one hand and kissed her once—gently, like a question.

Rio kissed back like an answer.

They pulled apart slowly.

“I love you,” Rio said, finally. Without armor. Without performance. Just truth.

Agatha didn’t speak for a moment. Then she smiled—full and warm.

Rio tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Say it back when you’re ready.”

Agatha kissed her again.

The hallway bustled just outside. Papers shuffled. A student laughed.

But inside the room, everything was still.

The door stayed open.

It was late July, and the heat had settled thick over Westview, the kind that made everything feel like it was moving underwater. School had been out for a few weeks. The lawn was already half-browned. The pool in Agatha’s backyard was filled with Nicky’s inflatable animals, one of Rio’s sports bras, and a towel that had no business being that damp.

Agatha sat in a lounge chair, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, the condensation from her margarita dripping down her wrist. She had a paperback open in her lap but hadn’t turned the page in twenty minutes.

Rio walked past—still damp from her shower, bikini top swapped for a tank she hadn’t worn in years, low on the sides, scandalous in all the right ways.

Agatha watched her move toward the patio with the lazy satisfaction of someone who now had the freedom to stare. “You wore that to distract me.”

Rio didn’t even look up. “I wore it because your kid used my last clean shirt as a cape.”

“He’s a genius.”

“That’s what I said.”

Nicky was gone for the night—Wanda had picked him up with movie snacks and no agenda. Agatha had offered a list of acceptable bedtimes. Wanda had ignored her.

It was quiet now. The house was golden with dusk and half-silence. Music played low on Rio’s phone in the kitchen—something rhythmic, slow. The kind of background hum that suggested dancing or kissing or both.

Agatha found Rio folding towels in the bedroom like it wasn’t the hottest day of the year. She leaned in the doorway and watched her, bare-legged and barefoot, hair still wet down the back of her tank.

“You doing laundry?”

Rio looked up. “Is that rhetorical?”

Agatha crossed the room. Slid her arms around Rio’s waist. “You’re ruining my fantasy.”

“Oh?” Rio said, letting her hand rest just above Agatha’s hip. “And what’s your fantasy?”

“Something a little more horizontal.”

Rio laughed, deep and soft. “That can be arranged.”

They moved slowly. No rush, no choreography—just warmth and skin and familiarity. Agatha’s swimsuit peeled off like a second skin. Rio’s hands were steady, reverent. They kissed like they had time.

Outside, the sky faded purple. A sprinkler clicked on two houses over. The sheets smelled like lemon detergent and salt.

Rio shifted under her, just enough to glance down.

“You love me,” she said.

Agatha’s voice was quiet, but sure: “I do.”

Rio kissed her forehead.

“You make it easy,” Agatha added, then looked up. “Even when you’re not.”

Rio grinned. “Say that again when I bring up the new staff dress code.”

“Babe” Agatha murmured, already leaning in, “no school in the bedroom.”

She kissed her again—slow, deep, unapologetic.

And this time, Rio didn’t argue. Just wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer.

Later would come. There’d be policies and practice schedules and morning traffic and new routines. There would be school and snacks and scraped knees and evaluations.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the bed was warm.

And love, finally, had nothing left to hide.

[dolphin-diaries]

i apologise if this is too venty or oversharing. i've been reading your and talia's essays while in the middle of my own gender-crisis and while i recognise them as the most comprehensive and sensible framework i've seen to understand how the patriarchy works - and i regret how this might come off as a whiny "what about me" - when patriarchy forces us into these strict biodestinies, what's the point of transitioning or trying to express your gender outside the box? again i do not mean this as a gotcha or declaring that people shouldn't transition ever, but the closest thing i've got to describing myself is "dykegender" and i know declaring myself as one would be met with raised eyebrows and "humouring the crazy" at best and being violently regendered into broodmare at worst. it's already so hard to explain and declare myself and just be seen as a lesbian, and i'm struggling to see if there's any benefits to openly being a deviant woman-dyke-thing vs swallowing my (relatively minor) dysphoria

thank you for reading this. thank you for your writing. i hope i come off as sincere and with respect.

I'm glad you find our writing thought-provoking. And yeah, first of all, I want to say that I empathise with your feelings--I think a lot of queer people struggle with existing legibly, because queerness is made illegible by the patriarchy. So your "what's even the point??" question makes sense.

Because I don't know you, I'm going to have to make some assumptions and answer from multiple angles, sometimes over explaining myself, because I don't know what baseline you're coming from. I hope that's okay.

Firstly, transition can actually change the way people gender you, even in places where trans-ness is very invisible. But based on what you wrote, I'm going to assume you're dissatisfied with simply shifting your perceived sex from woman to man or vice versa. Secondly, if you have physical dysphoria, addressing that will help you even if no one else on the planet recognises that as anything of importance. It's still your body to live in 24/7, and you'll be happier if you like living in it.

When it comes to the function of patriarchy, you probably understand that Talia and I talk about the overarching emergent system. Its details differ by location and culture and subculture--the core large-scale tendencies stay largely the same, but their expression and severity changes. More to the point, not all people follow patriarchal prescripts all the time or at all. So, an environment that does not denigrate you because you call yourself dykegender, and that does not treat you or women like would-be broodmares, is possible--I can attest to that from personal experience. Even if people in such an environment don't understand what your specific gender means, trust me they are capable of not treating you like shit. You are not submitting yourself to the judgement of the entire world at all times, and you do not need to measure the worthiness of your actions by the worst treatment you get or might get.

In other words, finding friends and community with people that do see you is possible--they exist, you're reading essays by some of them. I will not deny that there will still be people that meet you with confusion and hostility, but to say that their existence makes the entirety of your being a lost cause is a bit fatalistic. I feel like the good times we have in our queer communities, big and small, are not less worthwhile or fulfilling because of the suppression we face outside.

Lastly, I'm going to give you advice that you might scoff at, but hear me out. The thing with writings about social constructs of patriarchy and disability and so on is that they're not good at inspiring contentment and affirmative happy fun times. That isn't their purpose. But human beings need some amount of affirmative happy fun times, especially in crisis. That leads to some human beings sticking their heads in the sand and never emerging to face reality again, but you seem to have the exact opposite tendency.

So I will recommend that you seek out lesbian genderfucky fiction in whatever way you prefer to consume fiction. Talia and I both write that occasionally, but this isn't a plug and I don't know what you like. Regardless, the psyche is a muscle that needs rest, and escapist and cathartic fiction is a form of rest in which your mind gets to try on different realities and experience them in a safe environment. And, in seeking out people that create fiction resembling the kind of worlds you'd like to live in, you can also connect with people that also enjoy that fiction--meaning, they're probably like you, and will understand you. This isn't per se about fandom, but rather shared dreams and aspirations and communities. Even when you're isolated in a terrible situation IRL, that can give you solace for the moment and eventually strength to try and change your circumstance--and friends who can help you do that, including materially.

[hummingbird24220]

HELLOOOO I'm the one who submitted the req where reader drowns...IT WAS SSOOOO GOOD JDJDISJDJSIJFN

anyways i have something else in mind....okok... reader is like superrrrr sick like 110 degrees fever type shift and everyone figures that out (unfortunately) when reader just....falls to the floor and doesn't have enough energy to get back up and the crew has to take care of them and sanji mayhaps uses reader being unconscious as a chance to touch their face and stuff uhhh yeah ilyilyily

erm all platonic...make sanji a perv.....and can reader have a older brother? a protective one?

UHHH YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO

Hello! Sorry it took so long - as mentioned on my previous posts, ive had a lot in draft form but not edited to publish! Just getting to it now <3 Hope you like it ^^

Boiling Point

Sanji x Reader

The sun had barely climbed past the horizon, golden and soft, and you were already sweating buckets. Not from the usual humidity, not from exertion. Just... existing felt like swimming through lava. But you pushed through it—because when didn’t you push through?

You swayed as the ship gently rocked, the world blurring around you in watercolor streaks. You tried to hide it—joking, smiling, brushing off any worried glances. Until your knees buckled mid-step and you crumpled to the Sunny’s deck like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Oi!" Luffy blinked, completely unprepared.

"Shit—(Y/N)!" Usopp scrambled to your side as Zoro cursed and dropped his weights.

Chopper was already sprinting over. "Move, move! Let me see—ahhh!! Your temperature’s off the charts!" His tiny hooves trembled as he checked your vitals. “They’re at 110°F—that’s not just a fever, that’s a boil-your-brain fever!!”

"Why the hell didn’t they say anything?!" Nami hissed, crouching beside you, brushing hair off your sticky, flushed forehead.

"They did say something," Robin said gently, standing behind her. "Just not with words."

Sanji was the last to approach. He held back, drying his hands on a kitchen towel, lips pressed thin. But when no one was looking—when Chopper was busy yelling about rehydration and cold compresses and moving you inside—Sanji knelt down. Carefully. Reverently.

You were unconscious. Soft little breaths escaping your parted lips. Your cheeks were burning with fever, lashes fluttering like you were stuck in some nightmare loop.

Sanji swallowed hard.

Just a touch.

Just once.

His hand, warm but far gentler than it had any right to be, brushed along your cheek, then traced your brow to smooth the sweat-matted hair back. "Mon trésor..." he whispered, thumb ghosting across your temple.

"I’ll make you a broth so good it'll heal your soul, I swear..."

He hovered a second longer, resisting the urge to kiss your knuckles.

Then—

"Oi. Blondie."

Sanji jerked like he'd been shot. A broad-shouldered figure stood at the foot of the galley steps, arms crossed and glaring down at him.

Your older brother.

Not crew. But very much present. And very much glowering.

"I saw that."

Sanji cleared his throat, rising smoothly. “Just checking their temperature,” he lied.

“Uh-huh.” Your brother’s voice was flat as a cutting board. “With your mouth, eventually?”

Sanji chuckled, awkward. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not while they're sick.”

“Not while they’re asleep either.”

“...Right.”

A long, heavy pause. Then:

“They like soup,” your brother muttered, softer this time. “Lentil and ginger. Makes them sleep.”

Sanji blinked, surprised.

He nodded, just once. “Got it. You... sit with them. I’ll cook.”

-

You drifted in and out of consciousness, sweat-soaked and buried in blankets, head pounding. At one point, you thought you felt someone brush your cheek. And a soft, baritone hum. Not your brother’s.

Warmth bloomed in your chest—fever aside.

Even half-dead, you could still feel it.

Someone was watching over you.

And damn if their cologne didn’t smell divine.

-

The next few days passed like a heat-haze dream—dizzy, slippery, and hard to hold on to. You drifted in and out, waking for brief moments of lucidity that never lasted more than a handful of minutes. Every time you opened your eyes, it felt like the ship had tilted, the world shifting just a little too fast.

But there was always someone there.

Chopper came and went like a determined little whirlwind—checking your temperature, giving you fluids, muttering frustrated reindeer curses under his breath. At one point, you were sure he slapped Luffy’s hand away from trying to draw on your face. ("They’re not a doodle pad, Luffy!")

Nami was a surprising constant, gentle hands sponging sweat from your skin when you felt clammy and disgusting, quietly murmuring, “Don’t worry, no one’s seeing anything.” She wiped down your face, your chest, your arms—never once making you feel exposed. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Zoro kept watch outside the door when he wasn’t training. You heard him once, grumbling to Sanji: “If they die, you better not cry loud enough to wake the whole sea.”

“They’re not gonna die,” Sanji had growled back. “Not on my damn watch.”

You weren’t always conscious enough to speak, but you felt him.

Sanji.

Always there.

Even when you were barely tethered to reality, there was the smell of sea salt and cigarettes and spices. You’d wake up to soft rustling sounds—he was brushing your hair back, or changing the cold cloth on your head. Once, you cracked your eyes open and found his head on the bed beside yours, arms folded, chin resting next to your hand. He was asleep. You must’ve been dreaming. Because you could’ve sworn he was holding your fingers between his.

He did that often.

Touching you only when he thought no one was looking.

The fourth day, the fever had broken, but you were still weak. Everything hurt. The sweat felt gross. You managed to croak something—probably half a sentence—and next thing you knew, Nami had helped you out of the clingy clothes and wiped you down with a warm cloth. You were too tired to be embarrassed.

"You're getting better," she told you. "Bit by bit."

You blinked at her, and she smiled. "The boys are worried sick. Sanji hasn’t left this room for more than twenty minutes. Not even to cook."

"...'m sorry," you mumbled.

"Don't be dumb," she said gently. "You're loved."

That evening, things were calm. Too calm.

You were asleep again, body still heavy with fatigue, curled in the nest of blankets that Robin and Chopper had padded around you. The lantern light was low. Everything smelled like citrus and broth and you felt… okay. Not good. But not dying.

Sanji was seated by your bedside, quiet and still, holding your hand in both of his.

Your hand, so limp in his warm fingers, like you'd trusted him even in your unconsciousness.

He rubbed his thumb along your knuckles slowly, like a prayer, staring down at you with a softness that could kill.

"I’m not trying to cross any lines," he whispered. “I know they’d tear me in half. Especially your brother. But gods, sweetheart… you’re making it so hard not to fall deeper.”

"Let go of their hand."

Sanji froze.

Your brother stood in the doorway, eyes shadowed and arms crossed, jaw ticking like a time bomb.

Sanji rose, still gentle, but firm. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

"You think I’m blind? You’ve been hovering like a lovesick vulture since they collapsed.”

“I’m taking care of them.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“They’re not yours to guard like some dragon over treasure!” Sanji snapped suddenly, voice cracking like flint. “I haven’t touched them beyond holding their hand!”

“You think I don’t know what kind of guy you are?” your brother barked, stepping closer. “I see the way you look at them. Like you’re already undressing them in your head!”

“I respect them,” Sanji hissed. “I’d never do anything they didn’t want—”

“Because they’re asleep, Sanji. They can’t say yes. Or no.”

Your name slipped from Sanji’s mouth like a guilty prayer.

The voices were loud. Angry. Too angry.

And it dragged you from sleep like being pulled from underwater.

You blinked, throat dry, the world grainy and spinning.

“S…stop…”

Two grown men froze mid-argument and whipped their heads toward you.

You looked at both of them, eyes half-lidded and voice hoarse. “Don’t yell… headache…”

Your brother was at your side in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m here. It’s okay—”

Sanji stayed where he was, shame etched across his face, unable to meet your gaze.

But you reached your hand out toward him, shaky and slow.

His eyes widened.

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Your hand rested, palm up, between them.

Waiting.

And Sanji took it.

Even your brother couldn't argue with that. Not out loud, anyway.

-

You were finally sitting up.

Propped against a stack of pillows, a soft blanket tucked around your legs, and an untouched bowl of soup resting on the side table. The fever had broken for good now, but everything else ached. Joints, muscles, eyelids—it was like your entire body had been wrung out and left to dry on the Sunny’s mast.

But at least you were awake. Present.

The breeze from the cracked window was cool on your skin, the scent of ocean salt and lemon cleaner drifting in with it. Chopper had stopped fussing (barely), and now it was just you… and your brother.

He sat beside the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his nose. That familiar furrow was back on his brow—the one you remembered from when you scraped your knees as a kid or came home past dark.

"...You gonna say it or just look constipated all afternoon?" you rasped.

Your voice wasn’t croaky anymore—just tired. But there was enough of your usual bite in it to make him sigh.

He leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I don’t like that cook.”

You blinked. "Wow, what revelation. Guess the fever’s not the only thing that broke."

He frowned. “I’m serious. I’ve seen how he acts. The flirting. The hearts in his damn eyes. The nosebleeds. You’ve got no idea how guys like that think.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you replied softly.

He glanced at you—cautious. Waiting.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head back against the pillow, letting your gaze drift to the ceiling, the timbers above creaking softly with the ship's movement.

“Sanji’s… yeah, he’s a flirt. He’s dramatic. He’d probably marry a tomato if it was in a short enough skirt.”

You heard your brother snort faintly.

“But when I was half-dead,” you continued, quieter now, “he didn’t do anything inappropriate. He stayed. He held my hand. Talked to me like I was gonna wake up. Like I mattered. Not like a fantasy. Like a person.”

Silence.

“I adore him,” you said, voice sincere and a little dreamy. “He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s my mess. I trust him. Completely. And he’d never do anything I didn’t want.”

There was a long pause. You glanced over.

Your brother was quiet. Still staring at the floor.

Then, finally—he stood.

You blinked. “...What?”

He didn't answer. Just walked to the door, pulling it open—

—and immediately stopped.

Because there, pressed shamelessly flat against the frame like a blonde gargoyle, was Sanji. One eye wide. The other squished from impact. Probably had been eavesdropping since the word "adorable."

He froze.

Your brother stared at him.

Up.

Down.

Up again.

He didn’t say a word—just gave him a sharp, assessing once-over… and then, after an agonizing beat, let out a grunt, patted him once (hard) on the back, and muttered, “Don’t be an idiot,” before walking off down the hallway.

Sanji stared after him.

“…Did I just get blessed or threatened?”

You laughed—soft and wheezy, but full of affection.

“Both,” you coughed out.

He was by your side in an instant.

“Mon dieu, I thought I was gonna explode if I couldn’t come in,” he breathed, kneeling by the bed. “You—you really said all that?”

“‘Course I did,” you smiled, eyes half-lidded but warm. “It’s not a fever dream anymore. I meant it.”

Sanji looked like you’d handed him the One Piece wrapped in silk.

“You’re... you’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing your hand with his thumb like you’d break if he held on too tight. “And if you let me… I’ll prove to you that I’m worth all that trust.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead gently into his palm. “I know you are.”

He kissed your knuckles, trembling with restraint.

“…Not marrying a tomato, by the way,” he murmured, grinning.

“Damn. There goes the competition.”

-

You were finally back on your feet.

Still wrapped in a blanket most of the time like a sad little burrito, still groaning when you bent the wrong way—but walking. Breathing. Living.

The sea breeze didn’t sting anymore. The sunlight didn’t hurt your eyes. And the food—Sanji’s food—actually tasted like something again instead of cardboard in broth.

Your steps were slow but steady across the Sunny’s deck. It felt like relearning your body. Every muscle ached like it was fresh out of storage. But you didn’t walk alone.

Sanji was there. Always.

A hand at your back when you swayed. A guiding arm around your shoulders when you took the stairs. His fingers curled gently around yours as if he had to be touching you in some way—just to make sure you were still here. Still his to protect. Still real.

And you let him.

No, you welcomed it.

You leaned into every soft brush of his palm, every whispered “careful” and every murmured French endearment you didn’t understand but felt in your chest.

The crew had mostly adjusted. Nami just smirked and gave knowing looks. Robin teased you by calling it “recovery-based clinginess.” Luffy didn’t get it but hugged you extra hard “just in case.” Zoro rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word. Even Usopp had admitted once—when he thought you were asleep—that he missed Sanji in the kitchen.

But your brother?

He was less subtle.

Much less.

You’d be walking with Sanji’s arm linked through yours, cheeks warm with affection, and from somewhere behind you:

“BLEEEHHHHHHHH.”

You sighed without looking back. “I swear to god.”

“That was physically painful to witness,” your brother gagged, dramatically fake-coughing behind you as if love itself was a contagious disease. “You let him kiss your hand in public. I have secondhand burns.”

“You don’t have to watch,” you called back flatly, half-amused.

“I do when he’s glued to you like a horny octopus!”

Sanji didn’t miss a beat.

“Technically, if I were an octopus, I’d have three hearts and still wouldn’t love them enough.”

Your brother let out the most offended groan humanly possible. “I’m going overboard. I can’t witness this. I won’t.”

You just laughed.

Because even he couldn’t fake the way his eyes softened when he saw you smile. Couldn’t hide the way his teasing came with less venom and more resignation these days.

He’d lost the war. But you were happy.

And he couldn't argue with that.

Later, you sat with Sanji on the railing, his hand cradling yours like it was the most fragile thing on the ship. The sky was gold and rose and the sea calm beneath you, soft as silk.

Your brother walked by, eyeing you both.

He opened his mouth. Took a breath.

Paused.

Then just shook his head and kept walking.

"...No gagging?" you murmured, mock-shocked.

Sanji pressed a kiss to your temple, grinning. “I think that was his blessing.”

You leaned into him, fingers twined with his.

“Poor guy,” you murmured. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

“No one does,” Sanji whispered, brushing his lips across your hairline. “Not when it comes to me and you.”

[lookahotman]

Tied Up!

Sylus x Female reader

My contribution to the sub Sylus trope. I am so done with reading stuff where he would dominate the MC like come on y'all, have you not seen his cards, he would be the perfect Malewife.

tags: NSFW (It's not full on sex but whatever), Dom!reader, sub!character, sylus is handcuffed (from the bond moment),use of swear words(oh no!),dry humping, clothed sex

Also, this is the first time I have written anything, even smut, I promise I write better than this but you can also see this as me tweaking out cus there is not even sub love and deepspace content out there. Oh and this is also in first person POV cus I don't see that either.

One of these days I will surely kill Sylus.

The guy has made me run around for the past day just to find some stupid brooch I will need to attend the auction for protocores. He could have just put it in my hand and saved us both the trouble but no, everything seems to be a fucking game for him.

I have searched every nook and cranny, being caught by Sylus four times in the process, and yet that brooch seems to be nowhere. I am so exhausted, Time is a luxury right now, and I am running out of ideas for all the possible hiding spots

Does this brooch even exist or is he just fucking with me?

After Sylus throws me out of his room, claiming that he is 'going to bed', I just sit down and start doodling shit.

"Bastard! Now I get it. He never intended to make a deal with me in the first place!" I scream as I scratch the demonic sylus doodle I drew when suddenly Luke and Kieran start speaking from a distance, making me turn towards them.

"you're pulling your hair out over this, huh? If you want to do something, maybe we can help you." Oh please enlighten me, what could this guy possibly do? Steal the brooch from Sylus? He is literally his henchman. "what do you mean?" I ask, biting back my insults.

"if you want to conquer our boss's heart, you'll have to use a different approach. Luke then picks up a book and starts reading something "For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest."

Oh? Would Sylus really like that? Now I get curious as I walk over to the twins and take the book called 'Humanity and Conquer' from his hands.

"When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go. In other words…"

I raise an eyebrow at both of them. "Go on." the twins gave each other a glance and scream, startling me. "YOU STRIKE WHEN THEY ARE OFF GUARD!"

"Boss is the least guarded when he's sleeping, you only have one shot so don't waste this chance, just do it." Luke says, tossing me some evol sealing handcuffs and a Tranquilizer gun. He is right, My time limit is close to its end, I have to act now.

And that's how I end at up in Sylus's bedroom at midnight. Currently I am starting to have a lot of thoughts as I sit next to him and watch him sleep. "Man's gonna kill me the moment I pull this shit" "COME ON Y/N you are already here you can absolutely NOT back out now" "That's a very uncomfortable position to sleep in is he stupid he is going to get neck cramps when he wakes up" "He looks very hot while sleeping." Fuck. Denying it is probably of no use at this point. Something about Sylus makes me fucking weak in the knees. Is it his voice? His ridiculously handsome face? His body? Or the way he tests my damn patience. I am not sure. Seeing him like this though, how calmly he is breathing. How his exposed chest keeps expanding as he inhales, how those pecs flex while he is doing that, how vulnerable he is looking right now, It's stirring something within me. I want to devour him.

sylus…sylus? I slowly call him, ensuring he is asleep. This is not the time to be thinking about bull shit like that. get your head back in the game y/n. The aforementioned doesn't make any noise, completely oblivious of my presence as he keeps on sleeping, I take this chance and cuff his hand to the bed. "This is exactly what you get for all the terrible things you do." There. I cuffed his hand. Now what? Before my hand could even touch his body, he grabs my wrist and brings me closer to his face. Shocking me. I probably look like a deer caught in the headlights right now.

"Showing up uninvited at this hour… want me to tell you a bedtime story?" Wow. What a cocky bastard. well, not for long. "Don't talk to me in that tone mister, if anything you should be the one to figure out what's going on here, these handcuffs nullify a person's evol for an hour, so no matter how powerful you are, you are helpless as of right now." I say as I pin him down on the bed, his hand still cuffed to the nightstand. From here I can see how Sylus's chest starts falling and rising a bit faster than usual. Maybe I should tease him a bit.

"Really? what do you plan to do then since I have become your prey?" Did he actually just ask me that? Is he trying to provoke me, test the level of self control I practice? Oh well. I never had much self restraint to begin with.

"Hmm.. Let me think… How about.. This." I hear Sylus audibly flinch as I wrap my left arm around his torso and squish my left cheek on his left pecs. Comical. I had no idea I would enjoy riling him up this much. "What? A thorough body search is necessary don't you think? Or do you want me to stop? I ask, already aware of what his answer is going to be. After taking two long breaths, he chuckles, pretending to still be in control of the situation. "H-help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do." With that I use my free hand that's not trapping his body to grab his face. He immediately starts melting in my palm. I use my fingertips to give light touches to his cheek, chin and slowly rub his ear. His breathing seems to be getting heavier by the minute. I move closer to the side of his face. "Panting already? I have barely even touched you yet." I whisper, and then lick a long stripe across his earlobe, he is blushing so hard and even starts trembling a little bit as I proceed to give kisses down his neck. He is so cute. "Y/n…" He moans out softly unable to look into eyes and hold my gaze, to embarrassed to do so I guess. "What is it 'sweetie'?" He whimpers a bit at the word that he usually calls me. "P-Please…." "Please what honey? Use your words." "please!… please Kiss me." He says in such a meek voice, body hot to touch with all the flushing and blushing. And who am I to refuse such a polite request? I lean down and smash my lips to his. It was a hot makeout with our tongues rolling against each other, his mouth opening to give my tongue more access as I bite his bottom lip and yank his hair in the kiss, making him moan, again. God, He is driving me crazy. I can feel his hand tugging the handcuffs, he wants to break from it so bad. Although I doubt he won't be able to free himself. I release our mouths harshly, figuring that he must be out of breath by hearing his pants. His eyes are all hazy, blush creeping to his neck and chest, my god he looks so fucked out already. I slowly trace his chest with my fingertips and then all of sudden I feel something hard beneath his robe. "Would you look at that? You kept the brooch with you all along. It's as if you wanted me to touch you." Sylus starts chuckling at that. "I did." He replies, smirking, leaving me dumbfounded and speechless. "What?" "I did keep it with me. It was to see how far you were you willing to go to find this brooch, But mostly I wanted to do this just for you to touch me. Which is exactly what you're doing right now." Hearing that I put the brooch on the bedside stand, and then use my body to pin him down again. "So you did all this… just to grab my attention? My, my Sylus I didn't know you were such a slut." His breath hitches again, it seems to do that whenever I insult him. "What are you going to do to me y/n, will you punish me?" he says, while being all smiley. If a punishment is what he wants, Then it's a punishment he shall get. "Stop talking." I sit on him, cunt pressed to that raging boner he has gained, than I bit down his collarbone while grinding on his dick. "h-haah… Y/N! oh my god…a-ah~" If his breathing could get any heavier, then it just did, his eyes are starting to get watery, he starts thrashing around the bed but I don't let him go until I have made a nice reddish- blue mark on his collarbone. "Don't hA~Ah.. Don't tease please.." He exclaims shakily making me sit straight which probably added more pressure on his cock as I see his eyes roll back and back arch a bit. "Darling, can't you see I am punishing you? you cannot make demands here." Sylus tries to thrust up to get more friction but I block him, I am not going to let him finish him so early. What would be the fun in that? "lay still." Sylus infact does not lay still. He keeps moving, thrusts shooting jolts of pleasure through my body as well. I steady my breath, I am still the one in control. "LAY STILL SYLUS!" I slap harshly across his nipple, which seems to shock him. His eyes widen a bit as he lets out a loud whine and tears start falling from his eyes. And that's when something snaps within me.

"I-I am sorry, y/n… plEASE- aaagh~" His voice now a tad bit higher as I start twisting and rolling his nipples in my fingertips. "Oh my.. I didn't know you were this sensitive here." I then bend down and take one in my mouth, softly sucking on it and flicking the other one. I can feel his body turning into mush as I look up at him, Sylus is unable to hold my gaze, soft gasps and groans escaping his swollen lips, he looks so cute like this. I then release his nipple with a lewd pop and give the other one the same treatment, and while massaging the other pec, I grind on down him again. "T-tOo much. this is TOO MUCH! please let me hahh! pleaSE LEt me mOvE." I can literally see the hearts forming in his eyes beneath the puddle of tears. Maybe I should go easy on my poor baby. I place a gentle kiss on his cheeks and wipe his tears that were rolling down . And then I start riding him, or you could say humping, Sylus throws his head back on the bed, adam's apple bobbing and fists clenched. "Haa~! thankyou so much a-ah~ I'm.. yeah please use me just like that! thank you y/n THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUUU~" He starts to ramble incoherent words, a series of broken 'please' and 'thankyou's' and random chants of my name, it's all adding to the pleasure as the heat pools in my stomach, ready to be released any second. I feel like he is close to his release too. "I-I am ugh.. I am close y/n Please! please let me haaH~ Please let me…" "Go ahead baby. Cum for me." That's all it takes for him to cum in his robe, making it completely dirty below. I ride him throughout his orgasm and then lie on top of him again, head resting on his shoulder. We lay like that for quite some time when sylus starts speaking "Are you satisfied now? Please uncuff me Miss. Or I will do it myself." "I know you can. But you wouldn't dare." "oh yeah? why so?" "Because I haven't cum yet Sylus. You will only leave when I tell you to." I can feel Sylus twitching beneath me again.

This is going to be a very long night.

..............................................................................................................................

AU: kill me

[serra-says]

Fabian's journey in the Forest of the Nightmare King was by far the worst, in my opinion — and the only one that wasn't really 'character building' so much as plain old traumatisation. this is something I wanted to bring up a few times but haven't quite figured out how to articulate without spiraling into a 2k analysis. let's go.

the entire scene feels silly. we get Chungledown Bim, who's got a funny name and a funny tagline and is treated by the entire group as a joke. he swings through the trees with a to-go coffee — that's not the description of a fearsome foe. we get the sexy rat, whose creation was a joke to lure in Edgar (Zayn's familiar) and who kept being brought back for bits. it's 'funny' because Fabian hates it, and everyone laughs about the image of Fabian being scared of it.

despite obviously the rat's main 'thing' being its looks, that's not what Fabian was running from — it's the intentions, both the rat's and Bim's. the only way to break through the Forest of the Nightmare King is to give in to your greatest fear, and the way Fabian does it is by laying down on the ground and giving Chungledown Bim permission to "just shit and fuck and do whatever the fuck you want," telling the sexy rat to "fuck me or do whatever weird fuckin' shit'."

that's messed up. the other kids had to acknowledge their fears or consider their futures. Baron was a manifestation of Riz's fear to be different, of his desire to 'fit in' and be loved in the way society says you should be. Gorgug struggles with preconceptions that he's dumb and too big and that, as a barbarian, he is only capable of destruction. Fig faces down her lies and her struggle with sincerity and self-expression, Adaine faces her traumatic childhood and future as the Elven Oracle, and Kristen was absent for obvious reasons but even then later self-revived and converted a god.

Fabian grew up not having choices — his destiny was already laid out for him. he will tread in his father's footsteps. this entire adventure, for him, was the catalyst to the discovery that there was choice. that he is able to say no, to have opinions and express those and make decisions for himself. to become a dancer instead of a fighter. it's the discovery of consent.

it makes sense that his greatest fear would then be losing that. having felt the ability to make his own decisions and being forced, by the Forest, to give that up— to be pressured into giving consent when it's the last thing he wants to.

in the Nightmare King's Forest, there's acknowledgement, there's recognition, there's overcoming — all themes in the other Bad Kids' journeys that make sense. Gorgug learns confidence ("Anyways, my point is eventually I will solve problems that maybe smarter people can solve in a shorter amount of time."). Adaine admits to 'Nightmare Adaine' that even though she grew up feeling unlovable, she feels hope that she might be, now. Adaine learns hope.

Fig, instead of worrying over the fear that she isn't enough, says "I hope that [Ayda] finds something that I didn't know was there." it's the learning of trusting in yourself. Riz gives into his fear of missing clues, of not being useful, and instead takes care of himself. Riz learns self-care.

that's quite a difference from the journey Fabian's been on. after watching his entire worldview and perception of himself shatter on Leviathan and cautiously rediscovering faith in himself in Kei Lumennura, Fabian learnt autonomy. his Nightmare King Forest journey wasn't one of introspection, or insight. Fabian learnt autonomy, briefly, and went into the Forest only to get reinforced that it never mattered. consent under duress isn't consent.

to make it back home, to survive the forest and be of use to his friends — he needed to give up his autonomy and give Chungledown Bim and the sexy rat permission to do whatever they want with him. Fabian fears subjection and powerlessness, and the way the Forest goes about showing that is by forcing him to accept submitting to physical violation. Fabian discovers learned helplessness.

he doesn't want to talk about it, once the kids leave the Forest. Cassandra brings it up and the Bad Kids poke fun of Fabian seeing "just a rat". Fig conjures it. Fabian tries to stab it, tells them to stop. Fig puts it on his shoulders instead.

it's another reinforcement that, whatever choice Fabian makes, it doesn't matter. he asks Cassandra not to tell the others what he saw, and she says it anyway. one of his greatest fears was the sexy rat, and his friends laugh about it. he tells them to stop, to leave it, and instead they conjure it and make him face the very thing he narrowly escaped.

it's another day, another case of Fabian expressing distress, of acknowledging and letting his friends know that he's scared, and his friends make it into a joke and force him to confront it regardless. the Bad Kids go home, at the end of the day, having learnt things. having increased their stats.

Fabian increased his Wisdom. it's the stat for perception of the world around him, the stat for clarity of mind and inherent knowledge. Fabian's increases, because he's learnt something in the forest. unlike his friends, it was not something positive.

Fabian goes home, and resolves not to tell his friends about anything again — it's become apparent, and reinforced, and cemented again and again and again that they will not offer support. any vulnerability he shows, they poke sticks in. any fears, they laugh at. and his hard-won autonomy, his ability to make decisions and choices and a name for himself — that's useless, since there will always be something to push and push and push and put pressure onto him until he chooses the initial outcome, anyway.

consent and coercion and autonomy and compulsion and choice all lead to the same outcome — a lack of control over his desired outcome in a scenario. he is subject to the expectations others have. the only way out is to submit. it's a valuable lesson.

it's one he shouldn't have learned.

[blinksie]

characters from tma as customers at my store: part 1

jonathan sims: would come in to buy stationary or cigarettes, make a beeline for the aisles and try to ignore me. always seems to come in during the busiest hours. would quickly become lost or distracted, then accumulate a vast array of bullshit. would approach to grab a basket for his bullshit, still avoiding me. twenty to thirty minutes later depending on if there's a line he's avoiding, would silently approach, place his basket on the till and not say a word. when i inevitably ask how he is, he would jump like i had stuck him with a pin, mutter a "fine, thanks" and then stare at the floor until the whole affair was finished. pay with a card, walk out with his things, forget to buy cigarettes. come back in, run them, go pale when asked for an ID. because im nice, ill offer to scan my ID for him, and he'd be so eternally grateful i wouldnt put him through the extra mental gymnastics. get the cigarettes, forget his bags, come back again. mumble a "sorry, thanks" all embarassedly as he ducks out. probably forgot to buy a lighter-- will not go back for it. regular customer.

elias bouchard: he would only be at a store like this from pure necessity. would approach the counter straight away, despite me being with any customers, and ask where his goal item is, trying to speed up the process. inevitably, being one of the only two people on the floor, waiting on me would not speed up the process. id give him a good direction of where to find it-- most likely something like bread, milk, eggs, pens, etc, that would just be too inconvenient to go to a further store for. regardless, he'd take it straight from my head, retrieve his things, and wait in line disgustedly with the other customers. id ask how he was, and before i could finish my sentence, he'd cut me off with a "very well, thank you" and smile sort of menacingly at me, so i wouldn't say anything else. he'd pay in cash, and i'd drop his change from sheer nervousness. he'd ask for a receipt despite the fact that the receipt comes from the till on his side, and then hand it to me to be thrown away despite. i'd never see him again.

martin blackwood: he'd come in for groceries, napkins, cigarettes, treats or gum, anything you can think of, really. but only ever quite late at night, sometimes to the point of rushing in right before closing. quite annoying, but, he's polite so i never give him a fuss about it. if necessary, i prefer to approach him, tap on the shoulder, and quietly tell him the estimate of time he has before the store closes, rather than shout it down the aisles. he's very punctual about what he's getting, knowing where to find it, and knows the store and its workers well enough to stay on the pulse with the gossip. comes in with jon on occasion, who is also quite suckered in with the gossip-- martin seems to have to fill him in every time, though. he's very well updated on my love life. pays partially in cash, partially on card, depending on how recently he's been paid, and sometimes adds money to his card if he's got change left over, but never makes a big deal out of the whole affair. will always... ALWAYS forget he needs gum or candy until i've already rung everything up, so i've learned not to submit the till until he's absolutely sure. every other day regular.

sasha james: she's usually in a hurry and quite distracted. she'll only ever come in for a drink or to put money on her card, and is not the type to stay and chat UNLESS she overhears something interesting i and my coworkers are talking about. always has shit in her pockets or purse she's asking me to throw away, which i never mind. hands me the receipt trail from the till to throw away every time, and we always exchange coy smiles about the fact that i forget to grab it or get too busy to. it's a shock if she buys anything different. quick and to the point, lets me keep her change. rare visit.

tim stoker: is usually buying coffee, cigarettes, or instant microwavable meals. he's usually sleep deprived, in sunglasses, and goes about the whole thing on auto pilot. will approach the till with arms full of stuff and unceremoniously drop them, mutter an apology, and then right it all. complains about the smallness of the till quite often, but understands its not my fault. will ask if its been busy, or if im having a nice night, on occasion-- my answer is always the same. he'll tell me "don't work too hard" and i'll tell him the same. always cracks open his coffee on the way out. never fusses about being ID'd-- overall, a welcome regular.

michael shelley: has a sweet tooth, and comes in for tea-treats and candy. occasionally buys a coffee, less occasionally buys cigarettes, most likely for gertrude. will always spend a bit of time looking around the aisles but always buys the same thing-- every now and then, will politely ask i or the keyholder to check in the back for something out of stock, or ask when a truck will be by to refill stock, but never causes a fuss about it. is surprisingly hard to disappoint. looks like a kicked puppy. ive shot my shot a few times, asked about a girlfriend or boyfriend, and it went right over his head every time. gets bashful about being ID'd for the cigarettes-- once i asked if he wanted them in the bag with the rest of his things, and he looked at me as if id grown two heads, and asked where else he'd keep them? i didn't ask him again. pays in cash and loose change. weekly customer.

michael crew: quiet and reserved, sort of rude. he always comes in for snacks (nuts, jerky, cheese, etc) and coffee, and nearly always complains about the state of the store, despite coming in during post-rush. once asked if i was the only one who worked there, and when i replied that it was just i and my keyholder on the floor, scoffed and said that good work must be hard to come by, as if it was relatable. pays with a full hundred dollar bill (because this is america) and makes me break it up for him. once, i didnt have the money in my till to break it up, and he complained about having to wait for the safe to be unlocked to cash him out change. now asks if i have the money to break a bill in my till-- if not, pays with card. dreaded weekly regular.

gerard keay: mysterious hot stranger who comes in every blue moon for cigarettes and beer. he always comes in about an hour before closing-- smiles when he walks in but usually doesn't say anything. noticably watches the camera feeds as he passes by them, but never makes a comment. always gets the same thing, has only ever made a comment when the price of his cigarettes went up ("bloody hell, they're trying to make me quit, aren't they?"). usually asks how i am, and i'll usually riff with him. never fusses over being id'd other than searching his trenchcoat for it. i've probably giggled about how jingly he is. he's probably dumped out all of his loose change to demonstrate why. pays in cash and change, has me keep the leftover. always leaves his receipt. uncommon.

part 2 if this does well lol

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Terushima

The club room door slammed open, rattling on its hinges.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

The team froze.

A half-eaten rice ball hit the floor. Water was choked on. Someone knocked over a sports bag in their rush to get out of the way.

Higashiyama whispered, “Oh, shit.”

Futamata grabbed Bobata’s arm. “Is it too late to run?”

Bobata just stared, resigned. “We’re already in the splash zone.”

But the one person who should have been afraid? He wasn’t.

Terushima barely had time to lift his head before you snatched him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, forearm pressing hard against his chest, pinning him in place.

A sharp oof left his lips, but even as you glared daggers at him, even as your breath came in sharp, furious exhales—

He grinned.

“Oh, wow,” he murmured, eyes flickering with something dangerous—something excited. “Didn’t realize you liked it rough.”

Your grip tightened. “Would you care to explain to me why I was just called into the principal’s office to be chastised for my so-called proposal for the volleyball team to offer shirtless pictures as a way to increase funding?”

The entire team collectively inhaled.

Futamata wheezed. “Oh my god.”

Higashiyama muttered, “That’s gotta be a new record for dumbassery.”

Bobata just covered his face with his hands.

Meanwhile, Terushima blinked at you, head tilting back against the wall as he let out a slow, amused exhale. “Damn. They really thought you—?” He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s actually incredible.”

“You absolute menace,” you snapped, shoving against his chest slightly before pressing him back down again. “You submitted that under my name.”

Terushima’s hands lifted lazily, like he was some innocent bystander in all this. “Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“Jump to conclusions?” Your voice rose, incredulous. “You’re really about to stand here, pinned to a wall, and try to tell me I did this to myself?”

“Well—”

Futamata cut in, laughing in disbelief. “He’s gonna try it. He’s really gonna try it.”

And then, the real nail in the coffin—

Bobata scoffed, shaking his head. “He’s just trying to get Yoko Nakamura to date him.”

Silence.

Terushima’s expression dropped. “EXCUSE ME?”

Higashiyama immediately nodded. “Oh, yeah. Didn’t Yoko say she liked guys who were ‘confident but not too cocky’?”

Futamata grinned. “And someone said, ‘Hey, I know a way to prove I’m the perfect mix of both.’”

Your jaw dropped. “So you mean to tell me—” You exhaled sharply, shoving against Terushima’s chest one last time. “You pulled me into this mess because of a crush?!”

“Okay, first of all, I wouldn’t call it a crush—”

You leaned in, voice low and sharp as a knife. “Listen to me, very carefully, Terushima.”

For the first time, his smirk faltered.

“If you ever pull something like this again—if you ever use my name for one of your dumbass ideas, if you ever make me sit through another awkward meeting where the principal is looking at me like I’m about to pull out a portfolio of thirst traps—”

Futamata audibly snorted, but you didn’t even acknowledge it. Your glare burned into Terushima.

“I will make your life a living nightmare.”

The air in the room shifted.

You saw it—that flicker in his eyes.

Not fear. No, that wasn’t what you were going for.

It was something else.

A slow, sharp, assessing look. The slight way his jaw tightened, the way his smirk wasn’t quite as smug as before.

It was the realization that you were dead serious.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, finally, finally, you let him go.

The second you stepped back, Terushima rolled his shoulders, exhaling deeply like he had to shake off whatever had just happened.

You, on the other hand, turned on your heel with a huff and stormed out, calling over your shoulder, “Get your act together, Terushima. Or don’t—I don’t care. Just stay the hell out of my way.”

The door slammed shut behind you.

Silence.

All eyes turned to Terushima.

He glared back. “What?”

Bobata shook his head, exasperated. “Honestly? Pulling her pigtails in the schoolyard would be more subtle than this.”

Terushima scowled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re all full of shit.”

Higashiyama shrugged. “Dude. She literally had you pinned.”

Futamata snickered. “I dunno, man. She got the last word and left you looking stupid. You sure you’re not into that?”

Terushima threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “I hate all of you.”

But even as he muttered under his breath, even as he grumbled about his entire team being traitors, his eyes flickered toward the door.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure who had won that exchange.

[zygomantic]

I'M YOURS

Synopsis: Sukuna wants you to be his pet. You accept.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x female reader

Content Warnings: explicit!! reader referred to as "pet", unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, afab! reader

A/n: Because most of you voted for filthy Sukuna smut, this is what you get. (Btw I didn't expect so many to vote, holy shit, thanks!!)

Sukuna trailed the pads of his fingers over the swell of your breasts. "Your skin is so soft," he growled, watching the path his fingers made and leaned, then attached his mouth to your jaw.

Your body went ridged as he sucked and licked over that point. So distracted, you didn't even notice his hand move down to pop open the top two buttons of your blouse, before he plunged his hand into your top, kneading your breast with his hand.

You gasped in surprise, head falling back onto his shoulder as his large hand palmed at your breast, cupping the weight in his hand, rolling and pinching your nipple between his finger. A subtle pulse went straight to your core and you felt a pool of warmth beginning to form in your panties.

Sukuna chuckled as he watched you, knowing he was going to enjoy making you fall apart for him. "Look at you enjoying this" he said, his voice causing a shudder to rack through your body. His hand left your breast to trail down your stomach, aiming that burning place. The throbbing in your center grew stronger and your back arched of its own volition, desperately attempting to find stimulation.

You jerked a bit as he nudged your legs open with his knee, spreading your thighs apart to better gain access to the heat between. You barely had time to take a breath before he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear, "You'll never want to fucking leave after this," and then he slipped his hand between your legs.

Sukuna grinned as you released a shuddering sigh. He wasn’t even touching your skin and you were falling apart. His finger circled over your nub just over the black lace of your panties and he felt his cock twitch against his leg as he felt how wet you had already become even though he had just barely started touching you.

"Oh, I think you were made for me, pet," his sultry voice groaned into your ear, his breath caressing your skin.

His finger continued its slow motion around your clit, and you writhed against his body, barely contained sobs escaping from your mouth as he continued to stroke your center. Your eyes drooped, not knowing if you wanted him to kiss you or not, but before you thought he was going to do so, his hand slipped inside your underwear and his fingers were gliding through your wet folds. You could barely conceal a moan as a new gush of liquid flooded your center.

"Be mine, pet," his deep voice groaned into your ear. "Submit yourself to me and I vow that I will bring you pleasure like you have never known before. Trust me, woman, I know how to."

His fingers massaged through your folds, following the path down from where your clit was, and without warning, he plunged one long digit inside of you.

"Ohhh fuck," you cried, throat tight as a sob wracked through your body. Your hips rocked against his finger, feeling the slender digit slide in and out and in and out in a pattern that you hoped would never end.

Without warning, Sukuna added a second finger along with the first causing your tight hole to widen even more to accommodate his long digits.

You started a rocking motion against his fingers and he groaned in approval as he felt your walls squeeze around his digits. His hips started rocking against yours, looking to relieve the pressure he felt throughout his length. A pressure begun to form in your lower belly. You chased after it, panting and writhing against Sukuna behind you, and just before you felt yourself break, he pulled his fingers from your core.

You jerked forward, eyes wide as that glorious peak vanished from sight, leaving your pussy wet, throbbing, and completely unsatisfied. Your thighs were shaking and you could feel the slickness of your juices running down your skin.

Sukuna stared at his fingers, watching in fascination as your slick stuck to his digits. "Be mine, pet. All I need is for you to say it." He closed his eyes and stuck his fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them. He moaned at the taste of you, his pupils contracting in delight.

You didn’t care anymore. You wanted him. You wanted the pleasure he could give you, the satisfaction he would bring your body. Sukuna promised you he would. You whispered something, so quietly that it couldn't be heard. Sukuna raised an eyebrow at you, "You'll need to speak louder, woman. What was that?"

"I'm yours," you mumbled again, but a bit louder.

Sukuna grinned down at you, knowing he had you. "One more time, pet, I didn't quite catch that."

"I'M YOURS," You screamed, sobs wracking your body as you fell back into the hard form of his body and writhed against him, angling your hips against his in search of some sort of friction. "I'm yours, so please! Just… please!" You cried.

Sukuna grinned widely. "That's what ike to hear," he said as he pressed on your back, pushing you forward and making you bend until your cheek was pressed against the floor. He growled in satisfaction at seeing you like this. Bent over, legs spread wide, thighs quivering in anticipation of what he was about to give you.

He lifted your skirt und ripped your soaked panties off, showing what now belonged to him. Sukuna freed his cock from his trousers. It was stiff and swollen, almost aching as it stood at attention, the head coming just beneath his belly button. He groaned has he took himself in hand, stroking up and down his long shaft, feeling the veins pulse as he pleasured himself. He started leaking from his tip, grinning at the thought that his cock was weeping at the sight of his pet's pussy.

The heat in between your legs was near painful and you needed something, anything to release the tension. Almost of its own accord, your hand trailed downwards towards your aching center. You pressed into the small nub, almost sighing in relief as you circled it with your fingers, but before you could build her pleasure, a larger hand caught yours own, bringing it out from beneath you and pinning it back on the ground by your head.

"Ah, ah, ah, pet. That's my job," he playfully scolded you.

A whine escaped you and Sukuna smiled at your eagerness and leaned forward, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds, coating his cock in your juices. He pressed his tip into your clit, circling the head of his cock into your nub causing you to let out a loud moan of approval, eyes closed as you waited for him to take you.

Sukuna lined himself up at her entrance, and pushed the head of his cock into her.

You gasped at the same time he let out a long groan. You were tight and sinfully wet. Inch by painful inch, the pleasure taking over his senses, Sukuna pushed himself into his pet, nearly panting with the effort of holding back. He could have easily rammed himself into you, taking what was his without care, but he wouldn't do that. He wanted you to have fun too. Not wanting to prolong your pain, Sukuna flicked his hips and slid inside you the rest of the way.

A flash of pain disappeared as quickly as it appeared as the feeling of being completely filled took over your mind and body. You felt whole, like the missing piece inside of you had finally found its way home. Above you, Sukuna was feeling exactly the same way.

He groaned as he leaned forward, the angle making him to slide in even deeper if that was even possible, which caused sounds of pleasure to escape from your lips.

He leaned down to place an open-mouthed kiss on the unblemished skin. "I think you were made for me," he whispered into your ear.

"Sukuna," you gasped, hand reaching up to clutch at his wrist near your head.

"Yes, pet?"

You shifted your hips, gasping in pleasure as the ridges of his cock rubbed against your sensitive walls. "Please move."

"With pleasure."

His movements started out slow and controlled just wanting to feel the sensation of moving within you. He groaned into your shoulder, quickening his pace.

You let out ragged breaths every time he pushed back into you, his length penetrating to depths you didn't even know existed.

You bit your lips to keep yourself from moaning out too loudly. Noticing this, Sukuna cocked his head down at you, grinning at how modest you were. "Come now, pet, don't hold back." He gave a particularly sharp thrust with his hips, causing a small whimper to break free through your lips. "I want the whole world to know you're mine."

You let out a loud gasp, crying into the air as you felt the fingers of his right-hand reach down around your hip and rub against your aching nub. Sukuna released a loud groan as he felt your walls give a particularly tight squeeze around his cock, causing his balls to tighten.

He knew he was close, he could feel it, but he wouldn't allow his release to come without satisfying you first. He'd promised to satisfy you, and he would.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The combination of his cock massaging your inner walls, striking your womb with every thrust, and his fingers circling the pearl between your legs was almost too much to handle. You arched your back beneath him, your head leaning back and pressing into his shoulder. His fingers were working furiously on your clit and you whined as you felt those digits slip through your folds.

Sukuna felt your walls quicken around him, knowing you were about to come, just needing one last push over the edge.

"Come on, pet," he breathed into your ear, his huffing breath causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. "Let go for me."

With one last motion of his fingers, and one particularly angled snap of his hips, you let out a piercing scream as you felt the tether completely snap sending you spiraling into wave after wave of pleasure.

Sukuna gave a shuddering moan as he felt your juices burst from your depths, coating his cock in more of your slick, the liquid falling out and dripping to the ground beneath where you were joined. His thrusts continued, severe and unrelenting, and finally, he let himself go.

His groan sent shivers down your spine as he spilled his heavy load within you, riding out his high slowly, savoring every bit of it.

He stilled within you, chuckling darkly, as his red gaze was in your body beneath him.

"That's my pet."