#i love the swirl tool so much

[arinmoss]

-The End-

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

…

…

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

[insomniadreamzz]

GP! Jinx with a reader who has a weird infatuation with watching her get hard. Like jinx I’d just working and readers just staring at jinxing pants or boxers in hopes she’ll get hard.

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Mentions of G!P, smut, self touching, blowjob

———

Needy

It was already bed time but your girlfriend Jinx really wanted to finish the weapon she was working on. You both were already in your sleeping clothes, Jinx wearing a top and just her boxers because she was comfortable in it.

You sat beside her, your head resting on your arms on the work bench. Jinx looked so beautiful when concentrated, you take in her beautiful features, looking how she bit her lower lip, eyes focused on her work.

Your eyes moved to look down at her crotch, you loved seeing the little bulge, making you want to see it even better. Watching her getting hard was just such a turn on to you but you needed to figure out how to make her feel excited so you can watch her getting hard. A bit of a not essy task since she was focused so much.

You shifted a little, getting yourself in a different position so your breasts could be seen better as your chest rose to peak a little more through your silk top. Your fingertips gently moving up and down Jinx‘s back, you notice her body tensing up at your sudden touch she didn’t expect at all.

„Yes babe?“ She asked, her gaze still focused on her work while you kept staring down at her crotch. „Nothing…I just want to show you a little affection.“ You answered with a hum and finally she stopped for a second, looking into your direction, her eyes looking at your exposed chest, making her cheeks get all red. „That’s cute…you look beautiful.“ She mentioned but her gaze moved back to her tools again, keeping to do her thing.

You pout a little, expecting more from Jinx but nothing. You sigh, moving your own hand down to your crotch, touching yourself as you let out soft hums, purposely teasing her. „Baby…you’re always working so hard…can’t I give you a little relief??“ You said with an extra seductive voice, seeing your actions having an effect on her as she shifted her thighs, she must feel aroused by your soft noises.

„I really need to finish this for tomorrow’s mission.“ She said but her voice soft. Jinx did all she could to avoid getting any more excited but the second you move your finger inside yourself, the wet sounds echoing through Jinx‘s ears, she bit her lip harder, almost making it bleed.

You kept staring at her crotch and you could finally watch it getting hard, driving you over the edge as you let out moans of pleasure.

„God…not now I need to focus…“ Jinx groaned, not feeling very amused about it, at least she tried to look like she didn’t like it now but you could see in her expression that she definitely did. Her gaze much more softer as she still tinkered on her newest work, shifting in place a little bit. You could see her cock poking against her boxers, really wanting to touch her. „Come on love, it will hurt if you don’t let me help you.“ You whispered softly and she scoffed, hands clenching on her tools. „You brought me into this situation…“ She said but with a soft voice and you smiled proudly.

„Yes and I will also finish it.“ You made your way down under the desk, placing yourself between Jinx‘s legs as you tug on her boxers, wanting to take them off and she didn’t hold you back, shifting so you could take them off, blushing hard as you saw her cock. The sight you craved for so much.

You placed your hands on her thighs, lowering your head to place a kiss on the tip, Jinx gasping at your actions and a moan followed as she felt your warm mouth wrapped around it. „Fuck…“ She cursed under her breath, you slowly moving, sucking her cock and letting it went deep down your throat, wanting to give her the pleasure she deserved after working so hard for hours.

„Y-You’re doing it so well…“ She praises you, more soft moaning escaping her lips as you moved faster, your tongue swirling around her sensitive tip. „Yes…more…give me more baby…“ She let go if her tools, leaning back to finally relax, her hand running through your hair, keeping your head down on her. She was close, very close. Her hips jerking up into your mouth, making you gag on her cock but she didn’t care, she was so close to cum the pleasure just made her do it and once she came, she gripped your hair, cumming into your mouth. „Fuckk!! Fuck yes..!“ She moaned out loudly, your nails digging into her thighs as you felt her cum going down your throat, slowing down her movements until she stopped, letting you pull back. Jinx looked down at you with a lustful gaze, watching you lick your own lips.

„Oh toots…you will pay for being such a tease and keeping me from doing my work…“

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 17: Belly Bulge with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Fem!Reader Word Count: 2625 Warnings: Belly bulge (P visible from the outside), Reader and Simon both experience anxiety about sex at the beginning, Healthy communication, Vaginal fingering, P in V sex, Squirting, Protected sex (Wrap it before you tap it), So much Size Kink (Just, so much of it).

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

8 months.

That’s how long you’ve been dating Simon.

8 months and things were amazing between you. He made you feel safe and cared for, listened to you vent without rolling his eyes, no matter how petty it was, made you tea and given you his own clothes to wear after one date when you both had gotten caught in the rain, held you like you were made of glass.

That last one is both the best and the worst on that list.

Now, one might wonder, how that could possibly be? Who can be upset at a man like Simon Riley treating you like his Queen?

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he refuses to fuck you.

Sure, you’ve done plenty together. He loves to use his fingers and mouth and seems to really like how you look with his dick in your hands, tongue lapping at the head.

But he refuses to take that dick and fuck you with it.

Well, not so much ‘refuse’ as cleverly turns your attention away from it. It’s always “Lemme make you cum one more time with my fingers.” Then he makes you cum twice more and you’re too tired and jelly limbed to even think of taking his cock, if you’re even awake by the time you’re lying on his chest.

Now, you can understand why he might be hesitant, seeing as he’s a good foot taller than you, if not more, and about twice as wide. The man looms when he stands behind you, and not on purpose, well sometimes it’s on purpose.

And to top things off, he very proportional.

Long and thick. More so than any other guy you’d ever been with, a fact that you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t fantasized about.

He’s shown that he’s more than comfortable throwing you around and making sure you stay there. But has thus far made sure not to use the one tool at his disposal that you crave the most.

You’d had the thought that maybe it was you. Maybe he wasn’t as attracted to you as you thought?

That thought was quickly discarded when you recalled that he initiates the vast majority of the time, sometimes it’s before you get the chance to do it yourself.

Okay, so you knew what the problem was, why not talk to him about it?

Well, you have. Right now.

You’re sitting in front of him on the couch wringing your hands with nerves. What if he still says no? What if you touch on some kind of trauma you didn’t know about? What if he breaks up with you? Or thinks you’re too needy?

The swirling what-ifs cease when one of his massive hands hold both of yours. “Love? What’s the matter?” He asked, voice low and gentle, like he was talking to a spooked animal.

His blond brows furrowed in concern as you had a couple non-starts, inhaling like you’re going to speak and then staying silent.

You half expected him to try to coax it out of you, but instead he just tilted his head and kept eye contact with you, showing he’s ready to listen to anything you have to say.

With a deep inhale you forced your tongue to work. “Why won’t you fuck me?” The words come out small for how vulgar they are, and you realize that you did not, in fact, fully dismiss the thought that it was you.

His eyes widened as your words registered and he blinked a couple times in shock. “What?” He asked, brows furrowing in either confusion or irritation, you’re not sure which, and it makes your heart jump up into your throat.

You pulled your hands from his, fully intending to stand up and run, as the words came flying out of your mouth. “Actually, never mind. Forget I said anything. It’s nothing.” The platitudes were a practiced rush as you looked anywhere that wasn’t at his eyes, lest he see the tears trying to well there.

“Whoa, whoa…Slow down, Love.” He said, taking your hands in his to keep you seated. “I just…Need you to run that by me again?” He said carefully, choosing his words.

Taking another deep breath, you looked down at where his hands held yours, so warm and gentle. “Why won’t you fuck me…?” You repeated, still sounding so small. “It’s just that…We do everything else, and I thought I’d made it clear that I want to, but you just…Don’t…” You felt ridiculous, like a needy brat asking for more when he already does so much.

Simon let out a slow breath as you spoke as understanding reached him, then his face did something weird. It was like he was cycling through concern and embarrassment at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Love. I should have talked to you about this a long time ago.” He said, voice seemingly settling on embarrassed.

Your own brows furrowed in confusion, but you waited for him to continue.

He cleared his throat and met your gaze. “I um…I was- am scared of hurting you.” He explained, brown eyes looking into your anxiously, like he’s worried you’ll be upset at him.

“What? Simon, you would never…” You started but he interrupted you.

“No, I mean…Love, I’m bigger than you. A lot bigger. I could hurt you if we aren’t careful, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

His admittance gave you pause. He was really worried about that? He’s very familiar with your body, and what it can take, so he should know that you’d be fine if he just did what he always does.

“Si, I’ll be fine. How many times have I begged for a third finger? And yours aren’t exactly small.” You said with a lifted brow, trying to drive home how silly that fear was.

He breathed a chuckle and nodded. “Fair point.” He conceded before shifting a bit, moving a little closer to you in his seat. “I would just hate to be the cause of your pain when I only ever want you to feel good.”

“Having sex with you would make me feel good.” That pulled another chuckle from him. “I mean it though. Simon, you have done things with just your hands that have made me plenty wet and aroused enough to take you, I’ll be more than okay.”

Letting out a sigh that seemed to lift some weight off his shoulders, he nodded slowly. “You’re right, Love. I should have said something a lot sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t” He said before bringing your hands to his lips to press them to your knuckles.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can’t say I wasn’t a little concerned too the first time I saw you’re…‘Little guy’” You joked, earning a halfhearted glare, which just got a cheeky grin in return.

“Really?” He started but you kept talking.

“I mean, that things a monster!”

“Alright.”

“A real two-hander!”

“Listen you.”

“You could swim away with that rudder!”

“That’s it!”

And just like that you were over his shoulder, giggling like the fiend you are, as he carried you to the bedroom, laying a solid smack to your ass cheek and getting a squawk for his efforts.

Kicking the door open he dropped you on the bed before crawling over you, hips positioned perfectly between your legs. “Any other clever remarks?” He asked as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Just one.” He lifted a brow indulgingly. “Is it heavy? Cause I can help with that.” You giggle once more when he rolled his eyes, smile giving away his amusement.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you.” He said before leaning in and claiming your lips with his.

All Simons kisses are careful, mindful of his greater strength, but they’re no less passionate or perfect.

He always seems to know exactly when to tilt his head, or draw your lips between his teeth, or when the escalation of tongues was right.

And you were happy to go along for the ride.

Simon, ever the attentive lover, took his sweet time stripping you of your clothes, leaving kisses and little purple marks here and there as he went, till he had you nude and panting beneath him.

He sat up to start in on his own clothes, but you followed and pushed his hands away, intent on doing it yourself, just to have more of an excuse to touch him.

With each piece of clothing cast away and each new expanse of skin revealed, you marveled at him. No one could describe him as being all hard lines. Muscular? Yes, absolutely. His military work requires it.

But real muscle meant to work and heave and lift, has fat right along with it, which meant there was a soft layer over his entire body that made you drool.

His skin was littered with marks and scars, some a lifetime old, others only a few years. Each one part of the man you were sure you loved.

From this angle, him up on his knees above you, and you sat on the mattress below him, the furthest you could reach with your hands was his chest. Your lips however could only reach his tummy, where his trimmed happy trail waited for you like a golden road.

And at the end, already hard and standing at attention, was the very thing you’d been craving this whole time.

Part of you was tempted to try to convince Simon to just skip the rest of the foreplay and get right to it, you’d waited long enough after all, but a small wise part of your brain pointed out that you’d both *just* established that that was a bad idea.

You reached out to wrap your fingers around him, but he stopped you with a warm hand around yours. “Don’t worry about me, Love. I’m more than fine.” He said before descending back over you, pressing you into the covers with his body.

It was like laying on a cloud covered with the biggest, warmest, heaviest weighted blanket ever.

His lips returned to yours, now all tongues and teeth as he nipped and bit at your lips, his hands drifting up and down your body, squeezing your hips, massaging your breasts, pinching at your sensitive nipples.

The whole time, all you could do was hold onto him, fingers caressing wherever they could reach.

Eventually he deemed it a good idea to move things along, and one of those roaming hands found its way between your bodies, then between your thighs.

Calloused fingertips slid up and down between your pussy lips, gathering your slick before circling your clit, earning Simon a moaning gasp as you clutched onto him.

He hummed in satisfaction as his thumb took over rubbing against the little bud, while the rest of his fingers continued to run up and down the length of your cunt, soft wet noises seemed loud in the room with only your breathing to accompany them.

This very quickly became not enough for you, and you couldn’t resist the urge to wiggle your hips against him, trying to get even the tip of one finger to breach your weeping hole.

Simon, of course, noticed right away, and rather than tease you, he gave you exactly what you wanted.

Pressing one to start, giving it a curl into that spot he knew was right there waiting, and when you gasped and arched into him, he grinned like the cat that got the canary as he added a second finger to his sweet torment.

You lost track of time as he worked you up, getting you to the bleeding edge before stopping, giving you a “Gotta make sure you’re good and ready…” When you’d given him a look after the first denial.

He did this three times.

By the time he deemed you ‘ready’ you were a shaking whining mess, almost to the point where you’d accept anything, even if it wasn’t his dick.

But then he moved away. “Fucking Hell, Love…” He groaned as he pulled his fingers from your body. “Can’t take any more.” He said before reaching for the bedside table, the sound of a wrapper ripping followed by a moment of almost-silence went by in a hazy horny blur.

Then he was back, body caging you in as he kissed you deep and slow. “You doing alright?” He asked against your lips, his dry fingers caressing your cheek softly.

“I’m great…” You answered before giving him a peck. “Be better when you fuck me…” You said, voice low and slow and heavy with your arousal.

He chuckled and hung his head like he couldn’t believe you were his. Then he looked back at you with an almost feral look. “Yes, Ma’am.”

After that he sat up, just enough to see what he was doing, but it allowed your arms a little more freedom, and one hand unconsciously came to rest on your belly.

Simon went slow, pressing into you little by little, inch by inch, letting you get used to the depth and the stretch of it till he was fully seated.

But when that happened, you were a little too distracted to notice any discomfort, not when you could feel his cock with your *hand*.

Lifting your head to look down you found you could *see* it too. “Oh my God…” You moaned at this revelation, head falling back onto the bed.

“Bloody fucking Hell…” Simon grunted as he looked down at you, all splayed out for him like a feast, pussy so wet his dick was drowning, face and body flushed and waiting, looking up at him like he hung the moon and stars.

And his fucking cock visible through your fucking body. Jesus fuck.

You could say he started slow and gentle, but that would be a lie.

Simon set a pace that was indeed slow, but each thrust was hard and had him brushing against every sensitive spot that you knew of, and even some you didn’t.

Between the stretch, the glorious full feeling, and the way his pubis rubbed against your clit on every thrust, it was a wonder you didn’t cum quicker.

Your body spasmed as you clenched down on Simon’s cock, wave after wave of blinding pleasure washing over you, the whole time he didn’t stop moving.

“Christ…” He groaned. “Feel amazing, Love…Could get drunk on this cunt…” His grip on your hips was bruising as he chased his high, and subsequently sent you on the path to your second.

Leaning down over you, pressing your bodies front to front, he kisses you rather sweetly, given the absolute mess he was making of you.

The way he was positioned meant two things.

One, he was closer, which was always a plus.

And two, the press of his body against your belly, meant he was pressing hard against your G-spot from both the inside and outside, catapulting you toward your second orgasm.

This one welled up tighter than the first, a much hotter knot forming, and it caught you off guard, but you couldn’t find it on yourself to care.

“Ahh, that’s it, Love…Cum for me again…C’mon…” Simon coaxed as his own end crept up on him.

When you reached the peak, your vision went white and a cry that might have been Simon’s name or it could have just been gibberish left your lips, and a wash of something very wet flooded between you and Simon as he came hard, a hot feeling contained in a prison of latex.

You both lay there panting, feeling the closeness of the other as you came down before you let out a breathless chuckle.

“Totally worth the wait…”

[small-sinclair]

Possessed

Obsessed!Bo Sinclair x fem!reader

NSFW. 18+. No minors!!!!!!🔞

Tw: being eaten out, face fucking, nakedness, bottom/needy Bo, obsessed Bo, fluffy aftercare

I love obsessed Bo. He’s my favorite to write.

He practically stormed into the house at the end of the day. He wasn’t mad about his day or anything, he just needed you. He wanted your love in his heart and filling his mouth. Bo needs you in more ways he could say. Once he found you in the parlor, putting away some board games, all beats were off.

He tossed his hat to the floor and kicked off his boots. “Sweetheart,” he breathed desperately. His eyes had hearts and it swirled around like a storm. “I need you—no,” he pressed you against the pool table, practically cornering you, “want you. I wanted ya so bad it hurt today jus’ t’do work.” He kissed your neck then shoulder.

His eyes locked with yours, and he admired you the same way a stone carved admired a block. “Bo?” You whispered, kissing his cheek. “What gotten into you today?”

“You, cherie,” he breathed. “Always been you.”

Bo pressed his lips against yours hungrily. His hands were too busy ripping your clothes off and letting it go the ground until you stood naked and bare in front of him. Before he could give you much of a chance to respond and protest, he feel to his knees and pulled your hips closer, spreading your legs out.

He was like a possessed man as his tongue pressed inside you, his heavy, blown out eyes softening. He felt as if he hadn’t ate in days as he lapped you up. His tongue swirled with every breath and moan you made. He melted as your hands pulled his hair slightly, earning a deep growl from the back off his throat. He pushes up on his knees, needing more of you in his mouth, more of your taste. There was a type of freedom that came with it, a type of comfort which he couldn’t quite name. Bo loves you, but the way your would moan his name and fight against him only to fail…something bloomed in his chest and through the cracks of his concrete heart.

“B-Bo!”

He held your hips down as his nose buried into your clint, taking deep breaths, as he retraced the letter again and again. Turns out, you got off on the letters ‘Q, R, S’, but he’ll never complain. He loved the sweet music pouring from your lips. You sounded like a siren from some story he read. If that’s the case, let him be the sailor, your harbor, and your home.

He drank you dry and ate you starved over and over again, never slowing for a second. He was obsessed with the noises you made. He was in love with the smell of your body and the taste on his tongue. As you trembled to his touch, he loved every bit of you. As your rocked your hips against his face, he only licked and sucked deeper. Every inch of him was screaming for him to hit that spot, but his hands held your legs and thighs tightly. The friction made it too tight as he felt himself grow more and more desperate for your touch and approval, but he didn’t touch himself. He wouldn’t do it until you command it. For now, he let your hips roll over his cheeks and face, letting you get lost, letting you use him as a tool and a vice at your disposal. He savored your body and taste as his tongue swirled.

When he felt you clenched around his tongue, he felt his eyes closing and roll as he drank every drop of your organism, pure ambrosia of the gods. He felt thankful, felt blessed, felt blissfully at peace.

He felt you grow limp above him, and he caught you in his arms in a moment. Your legs were shaking as he guided you to the couch and laid you on the sofa, setting up on pillow, and slid down to your thighs. He his hair was soaked and he looked like some type of beautiful mess. He kissed your lips gently, shivering at the mere touch.

He began licking you clean, kissing your skin numb as he whispered gentle praises of you, telling you everything he loved about you from your thighs to your stretch marks. His hands racked over the aching muscles as he kisses up your stomach. He let you unbutton his shirt so you could touch his chest and trace his scars lightly.

“More,” he whispers, unraveling. “Want more, darlin’. Please, let me have more?” He’s not one to beg, not one to say out loud what he wanted, so this was a rare moment. Bo shudders as your hand ghosts his cheek. “Been leavin’ ya alone in dis house for too long. Ain’t fair, cher, ‘at I can’t have ya in the shop. It ain’t fair I can’t have ya at all.” He lift your head up slightly and began to suck and kiss a part on your skin. Your gasps turned into him moaning his name.

“Please,” came from your lips, causing him to groan and bite down on your skin, deepening the color on your neck. “Beauregard, have me.”

His real name on your lips made his heart ache. His hands played with the mounds on your chest, rolling them with every breath he took of you. Bo kisses the bruise on your neck as your back arched to his touch.

“Yes, of course, sweetheart,” he says, capturing your lips. “Anything you desire,” he leaned close and kiss your beside ear, “will be yours.”

[snowballseal]

okay halloween request... PUMPKIN CARVING WITH THE BOYS ? for some of them I feel like it'd be their first time, and for others I think it could get so chaotic and messy 😭 it's always something I've personally enjoyed and look forward to every year, so I'd super interested to see your take on it !

Carving pumpkins with them (LaDS)

Note: LOVED this! This is what I was hoping for this season. I honestly just went with the first idea I had for each, and I hope it suits what you wanted!

Also, there might be a few mistakes because I just really want to post it. I'll go through and edit it later.

Hope y'all enjoy!!!

---

Rafayel

“Rafayel! Hey, wait- No-!”

“Inspiration can’t wait,” the artist declares, twirling his scoop theatrically before diving into his pumpkin. “Sometimes you have to make a mess for the sake of creativity.”

“You can’t just wait ten seconds for me to put the tarp down?” You can’t help but laugh, desperately trying to spread the plastic out before pumpkin guts end up everywhere. And failing, you might add. 

“It’s my studio, it’s used to my mess already.” Rafayel shrugs his shoulders with one of those stupidly charming smiles. “Now hurry! This lighting is perfect for carving.”

“Okay, okay, don’t leave me behind,” you chirp, all but abandoning the stupid tarp. If he doesn’t care about the mess, why should you? “Scoot over, fishie!”

Rafayel easily makes room for you to jump onto the couch next to him. Besides the tarp, everything is already set out. Your pumpkins, the tools, even a few sketched designs you both worked on. While yours are all pretty simple, or classic as you would so vehemently insist, Rafayel’s are intricate and full of life, much like the rest of his art. Much like him.

A warm mix of nostalgia and giddiness swirl in your chest as the smell of pumpkin slowly fills the air. There’s something so satisfying about hollowing out your pumpkin, sticky, orange insides falling to the floor around you. It’s a mess. A huge mess. But that makes it all the more fun. It feels exactly like when you were a kid.

You glance to the side, biting down on a smile when you take in the equally excited look on Rafayel’s face. He looks so carefree in the golden light of the evening, completely focused on the task in front of him, tongue poked out between his lips ever so slightly. So adorable. 

“How are you going to finish if you stare at me the whole time, cutie?”

Rafayel casts you an amused look, having completely caught you in your moment of admiration. Heat creeps up your neck, tinging your skin an adorable shade of pink in his eyes. He loves the rare moment he catches you off guard, leaving you a sputtering, flustered mess. Like now.

“I wasn’t staring,” you try to defend yourself, though your voice pitches up, a telltale sign of your lie.

“Mhm.” The artist’s lips quirk into a smirk and he leans his chin against his hand, eyes never leaving yours. And that only flusters you more.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Heart racing, you give Rafayel’s cheek a playful push, just to break away from the warmth in his eyes, the warmth you could drown in if you look for too long. Though the low chuckle he breathes out against your palm only makes you blush darker. “I was just- I was just thinking. That’s all. And I just happened to be looking at you when I spaced out. That’s all.”

“Hmm, and what were you thinking about?” He presses, leaning into your touch with that infuriating smile, trying to find your gaze, though you keep it stubbornly locked on your pumpkin. 

“Well, I was uh- I was thinking about um- How we could put a wager on who’s pumpkin will look better?” Oh, that’s a stupid idea. A really stupid idea.

And Rafayel knows it, too. He perks a brow, smile turning almost wolfish, “Oh yah? Alright. What would you like to wager?”

Time to backpedal. “Ummm, maybe the winner gets to pick the movie for our next movie night?”

“That’s not very interesting,” he hums, that all too familiar mischievous glint sparking in his eyes, the one that makes your pulse flutter. You’re totally done for. “How about the winner gets one wish from the loser? And they have to fulfill it, no matter what.”

Yup. Definitely done for.

But you can’t back down, right?

“Deal.”

“Alright then, you better try your best, because I don’t plan on losing, cutie.”

“You’re on, fishie.”

What begins as an excuse quickly fans into a real competition. You dive into your pumpkin with a new enthusiasm, as does Rafayel. Even if you have no shot at winning, you’re not just going to give up and let him swipe victory out from under you. You may not have an artistic bone in your body, but surely your determination can make up for some of that.

Or not.

You bite back a laugh when you finally draw back to survey your sad carving. It’s definitely a step up from the ones you carved as a child, in no small part to the skills you’ve developed in handling sharp objects, but it’s nothing jaw dropping. Still, you’re proud of your little pumpkin pal. You do your best to hide him from Rafayel’s curious eyes, determined to have your big reveal.

“Done, yet?” You ask, unable to hide your building anticipation. You’re practically vibrating on the couch.

“Just one mooore…aaaand…” Rafayel pulls back to appraise his work, the look on his face brimming with satisfaction. “Finished.”

“Okay, okay, let me see!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue, turning his pumpkin away. “We have to do it at the same time?”

“Fine.” You pout, but oblige. “Three. Two. One-”

You both reveal your masterpieces.

And your jaw drops when you see his.

Sure, you expected Rafayel to go all out. The man isn’t just a painter after all. While he doesn’t sculpt often, you’ve seen his work from school and the few commissions he’s accepted, and each one blows you away.

So of course carving a pumpkin is a piece of cake for him.

He’s designed a full underwater scene, the main focus being a somewhat spooky looking angular fish. He’s carved layers upon layers into the flesh of the pumpkin, so with the light inside, it gives the piece a depth, the shadows practically moving with the flickering flames.

It’s stunning.

“I think we have a winner,” you admit with a low whistle, “Yours puts mine to shame.”

“You did better than I was expecting,” Rafayel hums, inspecting yours with pensive expression, as if it were some deep work and not just a silly, little face.

Your eyes narrow, “That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Raffie.”

“It is,” he insists, though you can see the teasing glint still in his eyes when they meet yours. “Your line work is clean and you used a lot of details. I’m impressed, really.”

“Mkay.” You shake your head, amusement curling in your chest. Even if he’s making it up, you’re still proud of your work. “So, what’s your wish, winner?”

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” Rafayel says, giving you an all too mischievous wink that tells you that whatever he has planned, it certainly won’t be good. “I can’t let this opportunity go to waste, now can I, cutie?”

---

Zayne

“I’m really okay,” you grumble under your breath.

“I’d prefer to check myself, if that’s alright,” Zayne murmurs, hand held out expectantly.

A blush spreads across your cheeks. There’s really no point arguing with him, you know that, but you can’t help but feel a touch embarrassed.

It was just meant to be a fun night. Both of you finally had the time off, so you spent weeks planning the perfect fall night. You would carve pumpkins and watch the classic seasonal movies, just like you did when you were kids. You’d gotten everything ready before he even came over, hot cocoa, a fall scented candle, everything. It was going to be perfect.

Until you go to actually carve your pumpkin, and end up cutting your finger. You, one of Linkon’s best hunters, fumbling with a simple carving knife. How could you not be embarrassed?

And, of course, Zayne immediately switched into ‘doctor’ mode, dashing whatever hopes you had of breezing by the incident.

“Your hand,” he insists again, slipping into his usual professional tone. It’s only when you give him a sharp frown that he softens a bit, voice taking on a soothing warmth, coaxing you to listen, “Please, my love.”

With a defeated sigh, you give up your injured hand, “Okay. I really am fine, though.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, as your doctor.”

You almost shiver when his fingers circle your wrist, his touch overwhelmingly gentle, his skin cool against yours. It almost feels like a chilly autumn breeze brushing your skin. You watch, heart fluttering uneasily, as he examines your finger. It’s nothing too bad, you weren’t lying. You’ve definitely experienced worse as a hunter, but you also know Zayne to be overly cautious with you. He would put you on bedrest for the most minor fever if he could. And some days, you’ll let him, since it means he’ll spend the day taking care of you, but you’d rather tonight not be like that. Tonight you just want to have fun and enjoy the season with him.

“It’s nothing concerning,” he hums eventually, “We’ll simply apply an antibiotic and wrap it for the night.”

You practically deflate at that. The breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes you in a long, relieved sigh. Zayne’s eyes narrow a little at your dramatics, amusement burning in their depths. He gives you wrist a slight squeeze, thumb brushing thoughtlessly over your pulse.

“Were you that worried we would have to reschedule?”

“I mean, a little, yah.” You shrug, cheeks going red for a new reason. “It’s already hard to find a night when we're both not busy, you know? I’ve been planning this for weeks…”

“Well, we certainly can’t let your plans go to waste.” Zayne says, somewhat teasingly, the tiniest smile flickering along his lips. “Is your first-aid kit still under the bathroom sink?”

You nod. With one final squeeze, he slips away to go retrieve it. You turn your gaze to the untouched pumpkins on the table, letting out another sigh. It really has been a long time since you’ve done this. You remember the times when you were young, when you, Zayne, and Caleb would carve pumpkins while your Grandma would bake the seeds. Afterwards, you would all settle in and watch a movie, tucked up in thick blankets with massive mugs of hot cocoa. You remember you would always wedge yourself between the boys so you could hold the snacks…

Maybe that’s why this felt so important to you. Maybe doing all this was a way of keeping their memory around. And a way of keeping him around.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking, you jump when the couch sinks beside you. Your eyes flash back to Zayne, a forlorn smile pulling at your lips.

“Yah, just thinking about when we did this as kids, you know? With Caleb and Grandma,” you hum. Zayne nods understandingly and reaches for your hand. You let him take it, mind still lingering on the past. “I don’t think I’ve carved a pumpkin since that last time we did it together. It never felt right without you…”

Zayne stays silent as he cleans your cut. You hardly notice the sting of the alcohol, keeping your eyes focused on his face. The focused draw of his brows. The slight purse of his lips. A shadow of something you can’t quite describe passes over his eyes, something worn and aching.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t continue the tradition…” He murmurs, voice tight, as he applies the antibiotic.

“No need to apologize,” you chime softly. You let your gaze fall to his hands, watching the way he works, efficient and quick, yet devastatingly gentle. Always fixing things, even when it’s not his fault. “From now on, we’ll make sure to keep doing it, yah? It was just on pause for a little bit. I bet Caleb and Gran will be happy we’re bringing it back.”

The doctor stills as he finishes wrapping your finger in a bandage. He traces the edges of it, thoughtful and slow, before lifting your hand to his lips. They brush tenderly against your knuckles, a whisper of a cool touch.

“I’m sure they will be, though I’m certain Caleb would scold you for being so careless.”

You snort, eyes crinkling, “Yah, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. Though I bet you’ll make sure of that anyways.”

“As your doctor, it’s part of my job to make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Zayne rumbles, his breath warm against your skin in contrast to his touch. “Speaking of which, change the bandage once a day and reapply the antibiotic. If it begins to look infected, please come see me at the hospital.”

“Yes, doctor,” you answer, nose scrunching a little impatiently, “Now can I have my knife back? We need to get carving!”

“Will you be more careful this time?”

“Yeeeess.”

Zayne bites back a smile, “Good. If you cut yourself again, I will have to confiscate all your knives. I can’t have my favorite patient getting hurt at home as well as at work.”

“Zayne-!”

---

Sylus

“What’s all this, sweetie?”

A gleeful laugh escaping your lips, you dump an armful of materials on Sylus’ table. He raises a fine brow at you, looking mildly unimpressed as you spread it all out.

“We’re having a pumpkin carving contest at work!” You explain, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So I decided we’re going to make a night of it! I got the pumpkins, carving knives, a fall scented candle, for ambiance of course, and a vinyl with my favorite halloween tracks! Also for ambiance, but I thought you might appreciate it, too.”

“And if I already have plans for the night?” Sylus hums, leaning his hip against the table as he surveys your bounty.

“You’ll reschedule them,” you sing, stretching up on to your toes to curl your arms around his neck with an absolutely innocent smile, “Because you loooove me, right?”

The tilt of his lips stretches into a full smirk as his hands settle firmly on your hips, his voice low and teasing, “My, what a brave kitten you’ve become. It almost sounds like you’re not asking.”

“Sooo…is that a yes?” You peer up at him questioningly, still holding the innocent facade.

“Hmm…” Sylus hums, as if mulling the decision over. You fuss with the strands of silver at the nape of his neck, trying to give him the best puppy dog eyes you can manage. And despite what he might say, Sylus has never been good at denying you. So, carmine eyes dancing with a touch of fondness, he softens into your touch and concedes, “I suppose I can rearrange my schedule just this once.”

Though that’s what he said before, and this certainly won’t be the last time either.

Still, you let out an excited squeal, dragging him down to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ah, we’re going to have so much fun! Let me lie out the tarp, I know how much you like this table.”

Sylus chuckles as you jump out of his grasp to get everything ready. It’s like watching a little bird flutter around, rearranging its nest to perfection. You move as if he might change his mind at any moment, though he subtly offers his help, using his evol to set the vinyl. The music crackles softly in the air before it smoothes into the familiar tunes you adore, only adding to the buzzing excitement in your chest.

Once everything is ready, you drag him to sit down beside you. Sylus lets you push him around, amusement curling his lips at the unbridled enthusiasm in your voice.

“Okay! So I got everything we need. Even stencils, though to be honest, I’ll be really disappointed if you use one. I really want to see what the leader of Onychinus can create. Have you carved a pumpkin before?”

You plop down on your chair, round eyes set on him expectantly.

Brow perking, Sylus huffs, “What do you take me for? An uncultured heathen?”

“A little.” You bite back a giggle at the deadpan scowl that earns you. “I’m kidding! Kind of. It’s not like you’ve told me a lot about how you grew up and all that. And I don’t really care, not for now at least, but I figured it’s better to ask.”

“How considerate of you, sweetie,” he hums sarcastically. His eyes shift over to observe the pumpkin you’ve set him in front of, head tilting ever so slightly in thought. “While I didn’t carve one when I was young, I’ll admit that after seeing them over the years, I grew curious. Luke and Keiran insisted on having a contest one year, so I decided to join.”

Now that, you believe. Sylus could also be remarkably lenient with the twins at times. You’re still not exactly sure of what kind of relationship they all have, but it’s certainly cute at times. You can just imagine the boys begging Sylus to join them and him giving in begrudgingly.

“Good,” you chirp, snatching up a marker from the table, “Cause I really want to win this, so I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Wouldn’t it be considered cheating if you were to submit a pumpkin carved by someone else?” Sylus still follows suit, picking his own marker and setting to work. “What is the prize you so desperately want? You are aware I could just buy it for you myself?”

“One, no, it’s not cheating. They said it could be a family submission, so for all intents and purposes, you’re my family in this.” You try really hard to ignore the look Sylus gives you at that, your cheeks already tinging a soft pink. You’re quick to move on before he can tease you, “Two, the prize is a set of tickets to that new movie that’s coming out on Halloween. You know, the one I’ve been telling you about. And three, it’s not as fun if I don’t earn it!”

“You know, sweetie, there are other ways you could earn-”

“Shush!” You cut him off, ears burning the same color red as his eyes. “Just start carving!”

Sylus chuckles, but obliges. The two of you fall into comfortable conversation as you design and carve, talking about work and the twins and all the plans you have for the season. For the most part, Sylus just listens. Your excitement is nearly tangible as you talk, lighting up the room more than any light could. And it’s quite entertaining to watch you gesture so animatedly as if you’re not holding a knife in your hands. 

You eventually focus in, though, falling into the groove of carving out your design. It’s been too long since you’ve done this, you think to yourself, but it’s just as fun as you remember. And getting to look over and see Sylus working with the same level of dedication he gives everything else? Well, you’re not sure a more perfect night exists.

“Aaaaand…” You draw back, surveying you work with narrowed eyes, before clapping your hands together. “Done!”

Sylus, who had been done for a while, raises a brow. He subtly leans over, eyes scanning your carving. Biting your lip, you watch, delight warming your chest when you catch the flicker of surprise pass through his eyes.

“Is that…Mephisto?”

“Yes! Isn’t he so cute?” You twist the pumpkin so he can see it more clearly. While it’s maybe a little rough around the edges, “I think I captured his essence pretty well.”

Sylus leans back, lips twitching with a suppressed smile, “It certainly is…accurate to his character.”

“I’ll take it! What did you carve?” You jump from your chair and drape yourself over his shoulder. And the sight in front of you makes your jaw drop. Because of course this is Sylus, and of course Sylus is good at practically everything he does. “Is that a wanderer? It looks so accurate!”

“It seemed to suit the theme.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing, though a tiny smile twitches at the corner of his lips, betraying his satisfaction with your reaction. “So which will you submit to your little work contest?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, resting your chin on his head. 

Sylus huffs, reaching up to squeeze one of your arms, glancing up at you with a smug look, “Perhaps you can think about it over a movie, hm? We still have much of the night left, afterall, and I did move around my schedule for you.”

Something warm flutters in your chest, and you nod, “Yah, I’d like that.”

“Perfect. Then, shall I grab some wine?”

“I’ll grab the blankets!”

---

Xavier

“What are we doing again?”

“We’re carving pumpkins!” You cheer excitedly, dashing back into the room with the pack of carving knives you bought. “You said you’ve never done it right? It’s basically a right of passage!”

Xavier sits perched on your couch. Two large pumpkins rest on the coffee table in front of him, on top of a rather large tarp. There’s no way you’re getting orange stains on your rug after all, but getting messy is half the fun. You drop down onto the couch beside him, biting your lip to hold back some of your giddiness.

“And what do we do with them once they’re carved?” Xavier asks, peering down at his pumpkin as if it might attack him suddenly, like some kind of Wanderer.

“We put them outside your front door, so everyone can see.”

“Why?”

You shrug, using your teeth to break through the packaging of the carving set (though you definitely have scissors somewhere). Xavier watches you carefully, wariness shifting from the pumpkin to your feral techniques. You just shoot him an unabashed grin when you successfully get it open.

“I think people used to do it to scare away bad spirits. Now it’s just a part of the season.” You carefully lay out all the tools, going through a mental checklist of everything you need. “We carve pumpkins, bake the seeds, and watch scary movies.”

The mention of snacks makes Xavier perk up. A glint of curiosity brightens his sleepy, blue eyes. “Baked seeds? Like the ones sold in the stores?”

“Yah, but way better,” you hum, “We can season them however we like! I like to make them how my Grandma used to, but we can also try some other seasonings if you want?”

“I’ll rely on your expertise,” the hunter murmurs with a small, teasing smile, “You seem to be quite the master of this season.”

Your cheeks flush a faint pink. You do love this time of year. You always have. There’s something about the chill in the air, the scent of pumpkin spice drifting from the cafes, the perfect crunch of the leaves under your boots. All of it just makes your heart feel so…happy.

And now you get to share it with your favorite person. Your partner. Your star.

How could you not love that?

“Okay, first things first, we draw our designs.” You snatch a sharpie from your pile of tools and hold it out to him.

Xavier takes the pen, looking almost hesitant, “And it’s meant to resemble a face, correct?”

“It can be whatever you want,” you tell him, “Most people try to do scary faces or silly ones, but I’ve also seen plenty of tombstones and moons, stuff like that. That’s the fun part, it’s all up to you.”

“I guess I’ll just have to use my imagination then,” he murmurs, as if the concept is completely foreign. Which, honestly, given his straightforward tendencies, wouldn’t be surprising to you.

“Exactly.” You lean over and nudge your shoulder against his playfully. “Just have fun, Xav. We don’t even have to put them outside if you think your pumpkin will get bullied. This is just for us.”

Xavier huffs out a faint laugh, some of the tension finally slipping from his shoulders. “One might think you’re doubting my artistic capabilities.”

“Xavier, I once turned in some paperwork that you doodled on and Captain Jenna asked if my nephew was visiting.”

You watch with a rather delighted smile as his ears go positively red, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he tries to move right past your truthful jab, “Shall we begin, then?”

Of course. You don’t even hesitate in snatching up your own marker, if only to give him a moment of peace, even though you really want to tease him further. Cradling your pumpkin in your lap, you start by mapping out a classic jack-o-lantern face. You don’t want to do anything too fancy and actually make him feel bad. This isn’t about making the best one, after all, it’s about doing it together. And the classics are classics for a reason, anyways.

Every so often, you steal a glance at the man beside you. There’s something divinely sweet about the moment, the contented breath in the room, the slight shuffle of your sweaters brushing against each other every so often. 

It almost surprises you how much Xavier seems to get into it. His brow furrows ever so slightly, eyes taking on that serious gleam they only get when he’s focusing. The sleeves of his sweater bunch around his elbows cutely, like a little kid trying to stay clean, though you can already spot a small fleck of orange on his cheek.

How adorable…

“Shouldn’t you be more focused on your work?” Eyes never leaving his pumpkin, a small smile tilts the corner of Xavier’s lips, his ears still a pretty shade of pink. Embarrassed by your staring but confident enough to tease you back a little now.

“Hmmm, but it’s so fun to watch you,” you tease back, tone dripping with something soft, “And you have something on your cheek, by the way.”

Xavier blinks, eyes widening a fraction. He quickly swipes at his cheek - the wrong cheek - and glances at you expectantly, to which you shake your head.

“Here, let me-” The hunter freezes when you lean across the couch, reaching toward his face. You don’t miss the way his breath falters, or how his skin flushes even darker when your thumb brushes against his cheek. Drawing back, you give him an amused grin, “All gone. Just a little pumpkin. Now, back to carving, mister.”

Your grin only grows wider when he grumbles and turns back to his pumpkin, as if ducking his head can hide his blush from you. For someone who’s so impassive most of the time, he’s so easy to fluster when it’s just the two of you. Like a cute little bunny that doesn’t want to admit how cute it is.

Biting back a giggle, you turn back to finish your own carving.

It doesn’t take long for you both to finish, since neither of you went with particularly complex designs. You went with a spooky face, sharp teeth, horns, the works. And you’re definitely proud of how sinister it looks.

Xavier’s also turns out much better than you were expecting, all his experience with swords and daggers really paying off in a strange way. It’s adorable really. You can’t help but smile when he turns his pumpkin to reveal a small star with a smiley face on it. It’s a little wobbly and uneven, but still absolutely cute.

“That looks great, Xav! He’s so cute!” You gush, tracing the outline. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, unable to hide his own glow of pride, “So now what do we do?”

“Noooow…we bake the seeds!”

---

I'm incapable of writing short blurbs apparently, which is really annoying. Sylus' was my favorite though. Best spooky boy.

[honkaimethrail]

Aventurine dating headcanons (part 1)

Nsfw under cut!

sfw

Contrary to what a lot of fans believe, I don't believe Aventurine would spend a lot of money frivolously on the person he loves

Forming connections with people, letting them use him as much as he benefits from them, is a talent Aventurine honed and polished as years grew by, letting it come naturally to him. If you were just normal friends, he would willingly hand out thousands of credits to you, simply replying to your surprised expression with a chuckle.

He is well-aware of his power and status as one of the 10 Stonehearts of the IPC, but Aventurine's actual self-worth is in shambles. The first time, you actually do something nice for him out of pure goodwill, you'll immediately recieve a few thousand credits as a "meagre" thanks. He's seen these genuine gestures in movies, but Aventurine cannot bring himself to believe someone would do it for him.

Anywayss, on to the dating part! I hope you're patient because it would take a LOT of time before you're actually close. You will learn about him, gradually, but it will be slow.

Which is why there won't be a difference when you first start dating him, with the exception of your relationship being strictly hidden, Aventurine is a private man after all, and he was already taking a big gamble as it is by dating the person who has his heart.

I personally hc him as someone who's attracted to a person who has the freedom to make their own choices, more of an explorer. Which is why he's more likely to fall for a Nameless! Reader than one of the IPC workers.

One of the easiest ways to get close to him is by texts and calls. The amount of texts you'll recieve will increase two-fold, with your conversations ranging from your work, friends to miniscule details, your habits, his habits, multiple promises on your side to visit different views with him by your side, and silences on his end, before changing the topic. In Aventurine's defense, he gets sentimental at night, you only laugh in return and immediately, Aventurine feels his heart leap in his chest.

Physical affection is alien to him. Aventurine has had experience, no doubt, but none of them felt as real as with you. He's lowkey scared of the person he will become if he comes to reciprocate your touches, or even encourage them,so you'll have to be patient, he's trying his best to accomodate you in his world.

It will take a long time for Aventurine to kiss you but that's fine, because he secretly feels himself bursting with adoration when you intertwine your fingers with his, brush his hair, or trace along the length of his nose with your index finger. He's a goner, he's much more in love than he believed and Aventurine unfortunately knows that.

nsfw

It's not that Aventurine would say NO to you if you imply to do anything sexual, he's had experience of course, but he would blank out during the experience. It would make hin feel even more shitty because he's doing it with you. Memories of his past experiences would swirl in his head and he would become instantly naseous seeing you beneath him. Needless to say, you learned sexual intimacy is something that will take time do it again.

Aventurine views sex as a tool, something that either has to be simply released, or used as a chip in his plan. He loves you, loves you a lot, and the idea of sex between lovers, being much more than two bodies would take a while to settle in his head. His mind would keep alternating between his past exploitative partners, to the current you, feeling all the more disgusted with comparing you to them.

So you both take your time. Make out with each, kiss his face, hands, and reverently tell him things that you would do to him once you have the chance to properly make love again. It will melt Aventurine to bits, but he's also assured that doing it with you will be different.

"It will be amazing. To feel a part of you connected with me, I want to see you make the most wonderful expressions, Kakavasha. I want to see your face when you c-

"I-I get it! You're enjoying this, aren't you? "

When it finally happens, Aventurine is absolutely moved. Sex finally became something that felt comforting and good to him, and he makes sure you know that with how vocal he is (someone posted aventurine moaning on yt and it's... without context it's... Open to misinterpretation.)

I don't headcanon him as having a high sex drive, it's fairly moderate, or maybe higher than average when he's around you but that's about it.

Sexting happens more often than you think. A lot of times you both are unable to be with each other because of work, which is why it's time for Aventurine to whip out a handy tool called a phone to see your face, and in much more needy times, use your voice to gently coax him to orgasm, which he gladly does too in return.

Imo, he's a switch, but a prefers bottoming. Can easily top too but i dont think he would prefer to be a hard dom. That's just not his thing.

After the first time you had sex, Aventurine was honestly quite surprised. At himself. He becomes much more needy at the prospect of being so close, with you, turning putty into your touch. He's easier to turn-on, and slowly it becomes a challenge at times to see who breaks first.

(To be continued because this was accidentally posted lmao)

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hi! I read your posts offering tips on how to describe dark coastal and academia settings. They were super helpful! I was wondering if you had any writing tips for dark forests..? Hope it wasn't too big of an ask. Thanks for your time!

I truly love this so much! I apologize for the delay in my post. I tend to put things off sometimes, I'm a serial procrastinator and it took me a little while to gather my thoughts on what you might encounter in dark forests. But hopefully these are similar to what you wanted!

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜List of Random Things For Your Dark Forests Settings | For Writers

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

The Overgrown Trail 🌿

Winding dirt path obscured by tangled roots and underbrush

Twisted, gnarled tree trunks reaching up to block the sky

Shafts of pale moonlight cutting through the thick canopy

The distant hoot of an owl and the chittering of unseen creatures

The earthy, damp scent of decaying leaves and moss

The Abandoned Cabin 🏚️

Dilapidated wooden structure, its paint peeling and windows boarded up

Cobwebs draped across the porch railing and doorframe

The creak of warped floorboards and the groan of the sagging roof

Rusted tools and broken furniture scattered among the weeds

The stale, musty odor of neglect and the faint tang of rot

The Moonlit Glade 🌕

A small clearing, the grass blanketed in a carpet of wildflowers

Gnarled, ancient trees ringing the open space like silent sentinels

Faint wisps of fog drifting across the still surface of a dark pond

The soft susurration of leaves in the gentle breeze

The faint glow of bioluminescent mushrooms dotting the forest floor

The Winding Stream 🌊

A burbling brook cutting through the undergrowth, its water crystal-clear

Thick, twisted roots breaking through the soil along the banks

Schools of darting minnows and the occasional flash of a trout

Clusters of delicate ferns and mosses clinging to the damp rocks

The soothing sound of rushing water over the pebbles

The Ritual Circle 🕯️

A ring of large, moss-covered stones in a small, secluded clearing

Remnants of burned candles and wilted flower petals scattered within

Carved wooden totems or animal skulls adorning the perimeter

Thin wisps of incense smoke curling up towards the treetops

The eerie silence, broken only by the distant cry of a raven

The Fog-Shrouded Ravine ��️

A deep chasm obscured by tendrils of swirling mist

Gnarled, skeletal trees clinging to the steep, rocky sides

The faint sound of running water echoing up from the unseen depths

Thick vines and twisted roots snaking across the uneven ground

The chill of the damp air, raising goosebumps on bare skin

The Witch's Cottage 🧙‍♀️

A crooked, thatched-roof hut nestled between the twisted trees

Dried herbs and animal bones hanging from the eaves

Smoke curling from the chimney, the scent of charred wood and herbs

A small garden of nightshade, mandrake, and other sinister plants

The eerie cackling of the resident witch, her shadow glimpsed through the windows

The Forgotten Graveyard 🪦

Crumbling, moss-covered headstones half-submerged in the undergrowth

Skeletal tree branches reaching down like grasping hands

Ravens perched atop the weathered grave markers, cawing ominously

Shreds of tattered funeral wreaths and faded flowers scattered about

An unearthly chill in the air, as if the spirits of the dead linger

The Enchanted Pool 🌙

A small, still body of water reflecting the night sky above

Luminescent flora blooming along the murky banks

Schools of glimmering, ethereal fish drifting through the depths

Mist swirling across the surface, obscuring the view of the bottom

The faint sound of otherworldly music drifting from unseen sources

The Cursed Clearing 🕳️

A barren, circular area devoid of vegetation, as if scorched by dark magic

Twisted, blackened tree trunks surrounding the perimeter like sentinels

Jagged shards of obsidian-like rock piercing up from the soil

The crunch of bone-dry leaves and twigs underfoot, shattering the silence

An oppressive aura of dread and unnatural stillness permeating the air

[nameless-pirate]

Kid: smutty headcanons

Summary: just some smutty Eustass Kid headcanons. Tags: nsfw, for both afab and amab reader Notes: I have permanent Eustass Kid brainrot. I love him.

– MDNI –

I actually don't think he's that much into one stands. I've seen a lot of fics and headcanons portraying him as such, but I don't really buy it. He's a ride or die kind of a person and I think he prefers to have one person (maybe two if we count Killer) with whom he can explore kinks and sexual fantasies.

That being said, he's most definitely not a virgin. He wouldn't want to die without having sex and the pirate life is dangerous, so one day when they stopped on one of the islands for longer, he had a brief and sweet sexual affair with one of the tavern staff. If he goes out to have fun and the mood strikes, he usually goes for blow jobs.

He masturbates a lot. It's a great way to relieve at least some of his frustration. So he does it in the morning, before going to sleep, every time he showers, and whenever he's bored.

Not going to sleep with you on a first date, but also not going to let you go without a hot make out session after which both of you would masturbate in the shower (separately!).

Not going to sleep with you on a second or third date either. It's not a strict rule, but he'd prefer to wait. The anticipation is part of the fun. But I think he'd also like to feel more secure before going all in.

Because once you two have sex and it's as good as he'd imagine or better, he's not letting you go. He wants you close. Forget personal space. He wants to be your number one priority and touch you whenever he wants. The first week after you spent the night together will be spent in bed. Killer provides the food. He knocks on the door then leaves the plates in front of it.

Loves blow jobs, hand jobs, and any other forms of you touching him. It doesn't even have to lead to anything, you can just keep your hand on his dick, and he'll be happy.

Once he performs oral sex on you, get ready for a long pleasure session. He usually prefers to work you with his hand, so when he decides to go down on you, it's not an appetiser or dessert; it's the whole damn meal.

Soft during the first night. Gentle even. He wants to learn about your body and what you like.

Once he knows what makes you moan, it's game over. He wants you loud, so he'll focus on whatever you like till you scream his name.

During sex, he wants to hear his name only screaming or as a whisper/whimper when you beg him for more.

A huge fan of quickies.

Holds the record for the number of destroyed panties. Say goodbye to your favourite pair of undies. He'll rip them off.

But if you say that you'll stop wearing underwear altogether, he can't stand that. You need to open a lid to get to the inside of a treasure chest and he likes to rip it off. It's part of the experience. So he'll tear it off you with his teeth or his hands.

(afab) This doesn't apply to bras. Free the boobs and let him glance at your nipples.

(amab) He gives the sloppiest blowjobs. He leaves lipstick stains on your thighs and bruises on your hips as he pushes you to fuck his mouth harder. He NEVER forgets about the balls. He'll lick or suck them at the beginning. Definitely fingers your ass while blowing you.

(afab) Eating pussy? More like devouring. He loves everything about your pussy. He always starts by saying how lovely you smell before taking a long lick along your slit. There’s nothing he enjoys more than the sound you make when he swirls his tongue around your clit. And since he likes to use all the tools he has at his disposal, he’ll finger you while eating out. Pussy or ass—your choice.

Up for anything. “Don’t knock it off till you try it” is his motto in bed.

He loves to fuck you from behind but if he’s nearing his orgasm, he wants to see your face. Happy and all fucked out—just as he loves it.

He can and will go multiple rounds.

Prefers to cum inside of you. That’s how he marks you as his.

Leaves you with hickies, bruises, and scratch marks. And you better not cover them—those are masterpieces he’s proud of.

[monster-disaster]

[shadow monster] Monster at midnight

male!shadow monster x male!human!Reader Good to know: well, cheating and dubious/non-consensual, but not in a traumatizing way, I guess? mxm, oral

Summary: The new bed your wife got came with something else.

It all begins with your wife's newfound obsession with antique stores and online markets. What starts as a casual interest for her soon turns into a frequent activity for you, with mornings and afternoons spent in parking lots, waiting for strangers and whatever she bought from them through the internet. These transactions are mostly pleasant surprises—garden tools, books, and seasonal decorations that would cost much more in stores. They are harmless things, and you have no issue picking them up just to make your wife happy.

The situation takes a strange turn when she gets another bed. At first, there is nothing wrong with it. It is much bigger than your previous one, giving her and you enough space at night to sleep without kicking each other every few hours. It looks good, and it's comfortable.

So it's fine, right?

However, after a month, things start to feel off. You begin waking up at odd hours with an unsettling feeling of being watched or touched. Sometimes, you wake up drenched in sweat, feeling inexplicably hot and agitated. On other nights, you find yourself waking up aroused, ready to climax at any moment. This last detail you keep to yourself, driven by a strange instinct to remain silent about it.

When you finally bring up your concerns to your wife, she just laughs it off. "I don't know what you are talking about," she says. "I sleep like a baby." You hum in response, uncertain whether it is a good sign or something you should worry about. "Maybe you're overworked," she continues. "You're always so tired when you get back from work." You are tired because you can't sleep at night, but you keep this answer to yourself, partly because your wife's explanation sounds much more rational than the unsettling fantasies that have been plaguing you. Her suggestion that you're simply overworked and exhausted from your job is a comforting alternative to the bizarre thoughts swirling in your mind.

Yet, even with her reassurances, the nights don't get any easier. The feeling of being watched, the burning heat, and the unbidden arousal continue to haunt you. You toss and turn, trying to rationalize these experiences, but they persist stubbornly.

In the quiet, dark hours of the night, your thoughts wander, and you can't shake the growing sense of unease. There's an underlying tension, a feeling that something is not quite right. Despite the logical explanations you try to offer yourself, a part of you wonders if there's more to this new bed than meets the eye. The once-pleasant surprises from your wife's shopping sprees have now taken a turn, leaving you questioning what you've welcomed into your home.

- With an exhale through your chapped lips, you let your head fall back on the pillow, arms tucked beneath it. Your body melts against the mattress as your muscles relax and your eyes close, ready to fall asleep again despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

It's nothing, you tell yourself. Your wife is right; it must be stress from work. Maybe you should take some time off. A few days of vacation would do some good for both you and the still-sleeping woman next to you. Go somewhere warm and sunny. No matter how much you love living in Grimbrook, the gloomy town can play tricks on one's mind if they're not careful.

Something nudges your leg, and you scowl into the darkness. Your wife's name rolls off your tongue in a low, barely audible grunt as you pull away from her, but the sensation remains around your calf. The hold reminds you of long, slender fingers with sharp nails grazing your skin. It's warm and heavy, and you have to shake your head to dispel your ridiculous thoughts.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you tell yourself it's just your imagination, fueled by exhaustion and stress. Yet, the feeling lingers, making your heart race. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but despite your efforts to rationalize, the sense of unease is undeniable. You glance at your wife sleeping peacefully beside you, and suddenly, a thought crosses your mind; what if your wife is right? And wrong? What if there is really nothing wrong with the bed, but stress has nothing to do with your problems? What if you are going insane?

What if…

But no. There is a hand on your calf, moving up and up until long nails graze the back of your thigh. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you jump as you struggle for what feels like an eternity to turn around and yank the blanket off your body in one frantic motion. The springs creak as your back hits the bed, but the sound is drowned by your pulse pounding in your ears.

And you need several, several seconds to believe your own eyes.

The darkness is thick and almost tangible in the bedroom. A strange, eerie fog rolls across the floor, curling around the furniture and casting shapes and shadows on the walls. They stretch and twist in ways they shouldn't do, and at the end of the bed, a creature kneels, barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness. The monster is lean with a hunched posture. You can see the long, slender fingers tipped with sharp nails, the same ones that grazed your thigh moments ago. Multiple eyes glimmer faintly at you, reflecting what little light there is coming from the window. The monster's skin is so dark that it nearly blends into the blackness, a seamless extension of the night itself.

As your heart races and your breath comes in shallow gasps, you struggle to make sense of the sight. The monster's eyes, too many, seem to pierce through you, seeing into the deepest corners of your soul. You feel paralyzed, unable to move or look away. The weight of its gaze is heavy and oppressive on you.

For a moment, the world narrows to just you and the monster. The bedroom, the house, your sleeping wife next to you, and everything else fades into insignificance. It's as if time itself has stopped, trapping you in this moment. With him.

He is the one who breaks the stillness of the room, placing his large hands on your thighs just above your knees. His grip is strong, and his touch is cold yet surprisingly soothing. Your muscles twitch at the sudden feeling, and you brace yourself on your elbows, wanting to sit up but halting your attempt as you speak hurriedly. "Hey! Hey! Hey!" Your voice is still hoarse from sleep but filled with alertness and panic as you stare at the monster with wide eyes. He looks back at you with a calmness you certainly don't have. The creature’s multiple eyes glint in the dim light, each one reflecting an eerie curiosity. "Who… What are you?" you manage to stammer out. The monster tilts his head when he hears your question, the movement is seemingly innocent and almost graceful as his fingers flex around your legs, sending shivers up your spine.

The silence stretches, heavy and tense, until finally, you hear a sound that seems to resonate in the air and within your very bones.

It's… purring.

It's deep and reverberating. You can’t tear your gaze away from him, a strange mix of fear and fascination holding you captive. The purring grows louder, filling the room with a sound that is both comforting and lulling. The rhythmic vibration somehow keeps you grounded, preventing you from losing your mind entirely.

The fog that had enveloped the room now swirls lazily around the bed, as if it too is under the monster's spell.

But you don't get an answer.

Instead, his grip on you slips up and up and up, and before you can say anything, his hands are under the thin fabric of your loose underwear. Your lips fall open as your breath catches in your throat with a strange, strangled sound that bounces out of your heaving chest. Your first instinct says to grab him, but your body freezes before you can do something stupid. His long, sharp nails graze over your inner thighs, too close to your balls, and there is no way you are ready to risk it with a reckless move. Now, you have to be smart, but damn, your brain stopped functioning several seconds ago.

"Wait! Wait!" You gasp. "You shouldn't… It's not…" No matter how you try, the words don't want to roll off your tongue as you hobble for some coherent thoughts. The tips of his nails wake goosebumps on their way, making your tense muscles tremble at the feeling. While one part of your mind is frozen by panic, the other is intrigued. Despite his looks, the monster doesn't seem dangerous with his big eyes that stare at you with as much curiosity as you watch him.

When you don't say anything else, he moves again, punching a startled groan out of your chest. His long, slender fingers curl around your dick, holding it steadily and firmly. "No!" You wheeze, trying to pull away, but the movement makes him tug on your shaft, and you swear you can see stars for a moment. Your cock twitches, and you can feel your arousal building up in the base of your spine despite the absurdity of the situation.

The creature purrs again. The sound is short and excited as he lets you go only to tug on your underwear before you can catch your breath. Your cock juts out, half hard, while the waistband of your boxer stretches around your thighs and slips down off your legs as you struggle to reach it. The monster does nothing to help you, mostly because his attention is entirely elsewhere. "Look," you inhale. "We shouldn't…" Now that your cock is bobbing under his heavy, intense gaze, there is no way a flimsy fabric you use for sleep can be more interesting for him.

He shuffles forward a little, the bed dips under his weight as he finds his new place between your legs, forcing you to spread them open for him. Your lips open again to say something, but he takes hold of your cock, and again, your mind goes blank. The black monster with several eyes and no words tugs on your cock experimentally, stroking you into full erection as he explores your shaft from base to tip. Your hips buck upward automatically, and you groan at yourself. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't enjoy this. And yet, when his thumb finds a vein at the underside of your cock, you can't stop the tingling feeling running through your body. His large palm feels warm and velvety as it rubs up and down on your erection. His fingertip ghosts over the edge of the crown of your cock, teasing the sensitive skin under it to the point you can't even breathe to say something. Your lungs burn for air, and your voice is barely audible when a wheeze escapes your lips. One glance at the monster hovering over your cock is enough to know his next step. And while your body aches for it, your mind still trying to hold onto the reality. "Don't!" Without even acting like he hears you, he leans in and licks a tentative path along your shaft, lingering at the tip and teasing the small hole there. His tongue is thick and long, you can feel every movement of the wet muscle on your throbbing cock. Your chest expands with a ragged inhale as you stare at him taking you into his mouth. He is warm and wet, and his long, long tongue wraps around you easily. "Fuck!" Your voice is loud and hoarse in the silence, mixing with the wet, suckling sound of the dark creature around your cock. Adjusting his grip at the base, he takes you deeper until you can feel his throat tightening and working around you.

The sight of the monster's fingers and long, sharp nails so close to your most sensitive area surges adrenaline through your veins while his lips rubbing up and down on your hard shaft softens the sharpness of your survival instincts.

The monster backs away, jerking you off with his hand much more easily now that your cock is soaked by the mix of your pre-cum and his saliva. His fist rubs up and down on you for long seconds while your hips rise and fall as you fuck into his hold, chasing your pleasure. Every rational thought is out of your mind, and you don't even fight for it anymore. Not when he dips his head back, letting his tongue circle on the tip of your cock, sliding lower and lower until you are in his mouth again.

The slurping sounds of his lips are loud as he drools down to your balls, using his free hand to play with them softly, carefully. Your groan is almost painful as your back arches away from the bed from the electric jolt that shoots through your body, making your muscles flex and spasm.

Your oxygen-deprived brain can't even fathom anything outside the thick, curling fog around you and the monster between your legs. Your toes and fingers go numb as they curl, and you grab onto the sheets under you. You tug on the fabric with every wave of pleasure washing over you, making your muscles twitch and turning your bones into liquid. Your shirt sticks to your body like a second skin from the thin layer of sweat covering you. You are all lost and ruined under the sensations. His drool dripping down to your balls is tickling and messy and so fucking good. And his tongue is long and wet, wrapping and massaging your erection all the way from the tip to the base.

It goes like this for a while, you wheeze and writhe while he sucks you deep down to his throat, and when you think you can't go higher, the creature starts to purr. The vibration tightening and fluttering around your cock makes you shout with a release. Before you know it, you spurt your cum into his mouth. He swallows down your load easily, and every gulp sends sparkles over your spine until it almost cracks under the pressure of your orgasm.

By the time your body goes limp, you are dead to the world. Your eyes fall shut when the darkness takes you so you don't see the monster retreating to his hiding place while the thick, rolling mist slowly disappears, leaving you and your wife on the bed as if nothing happened.

The next day, when your wife joins you in the kitchen while the scent of coffee lingers in the early morning air and you are more relaxed than ever before, you say nothing about your midnight visitor. When she asks how did you sleep, you reply with a smile behind the brim of your cup.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Again

about this: nathan bateman x f!reader. contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, smut, wife kink, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, nathan the asshole simp™️. wc: 1031. an: my brain plagued me with this thought at like 12 am. here it is.

oscar issac characters masterlist

This is not how you anticipated your time in the garden would pan out. The sun hangs high in the sky, a soft breeze swirling in the air. You’d been halfway done with your task of weeding and watering the garden when Nathan sauntered down the steps of the front porch.

“Can I help you?” You ask, glancing over at him.

He holds up his hands, rounding his eyes with innocence. “Can’t a man ogle his wife?”

You should’ve known then and there that he was up to no good. Slowly but surely, Nathan gets closer and closer. With each step your blood rises, your heart thumping steadily in your ears. Until his lips are ghosting your temple, beard tickling at your skin.

Now, despite that cooling breeze, you are warm. There’s pure, overwhelming heat coupled with sparking pleasure. You’re surrounded by it, drowning in it and there’s no place you would rather be.

“Nathan,” You breathe, the sound of your voice feeling miles away.

You hear a deep hum, the scratch of his beard against your thighs, and then an inhaling breath. When you sit up on your elbows to gaze down at him, Nathan’s dark brown eyes glitter back at you. His mouth and beard shine with your slick as his lips curl into a smirk.

He wags his eyebrows, voice so soft and sweet as he asks, “What is it, honey?”

“I was doing something,” You huff, still out of breath though his work has stopped momentarily.

It’s not lost on you how this would look from another point of view. Your panties in a heap in the grass, sundress bunched around your breasts. Nathan rutting into the ground as he sips from between your legs like it’s the fountain of life. There are tools and weeds spread about, dirt smeared on skin and clothing alike. You two are the definition of a dirty, horny mess.

Nathan’s smile widens into something as beautiful as it is arousing, sending a shiver up your spine. “And now, you’re doing me. Lay back, I’m making my wife cum.”

You don’t have the discipline to object, not that you want to. Nathan had brought you to the precipice of your peak just to tease you down more than once, and now you’re wound tight, ready for release.

Nathan slides into you with practiced ease, bending to capture your mouth with his own, moans melting into each other’s. His hips move against yours, gently but relentlessly, withdrawing completely before pressing in as far as your body will take him.

You let your legs fall open wider, clutching at his shoulders to stay as steady and still as possible, wanting it just like this, just how he’s giving it to you. He dusts kisses on any part of you he can reach as he continues to fuck you— your cheeks, jaw, neck, coveting every inch of you.

“That’s it, baby, let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good like I’m s’pose to. That’s what I’m for, hmm? To make my wife cum. Give her whatever she wants.”

“Nathan, please. I need you, need more,” You beg softly.

He gets two of his fingers wet, snaking them between you so that he can rub softly at your clit. “I need you too, honey. C’mon, I know you can cum for me. Can’t you?”

“Yes. Mhmm, I can,” You nod, eyes wild with lust when you gaze up at him.

“Your pussy’s so fucking good, baby. Perfect fucking wife with the perfect little pussy. Gonna make me fill you up,” He groans, his voice growing more hoarse as he slowly unravels.

His cock, his praise, his filth— they wind you tight, tight, tight, until you cum, clenching around his cock as you call out his name. Nathan lets out a breath gasp and then he’s filling you to the brim, whispering into your ear how much he loves you.

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and only then does he pull out to clean you both up. Nathan helps you into your panties and smooths your sundress back into place before refastening his jeans and snaking an arm around your waist. The two of you lay in content silence besides the occasional chirp of a bird and your mingling breath.

Suddenly he asks, “Do you wanna get married?”

You nearly choke on your laughter, turning your head to look over at him, “We are married, you made it very clear in the filth you were spewing at me.”

He ignores your teasing, his brows are drawn together so you know he’s serious. “Again. Do you want to get married again?”

“Nathan, that wedding was a fortune.”

“Who gives a fuck how much it costs,” He scoffs, pulling you more firmly onto his chest. “I don’t mean like that. I mean just me and you. The guy who guides the bullshit.”

“The bullshit, huh?”

“You know what I mean. What do you think?”

You frown, leaning back a little bit to look him in the eye. “I thought you liked our wedding.”

“Honey, I fucking loved our wedding,” He reassures you easily, smoothing a hand over your cheek.

“Then why again?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you again?”

His answer completely floors you. Your heart melts. Soft and gooey, completely pliable and completely his. You’d ask him to marry you if he wasn’t already yours if he hadn’t already asked you for the second time. You can see that your speechlessness is starting to get in his head, and he opens his mouth to say something.

You quickly cut him off with a kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I love it when you get all sentimental.”

There is no denying the soft flush in his cheeks, “Hush.”

“Yes, Nathan, I’ll marry you again. Can we do it here?” You gesture around to the garden.

“Can I do you here?” He asks suggestively, that charming smirk gracing his face again.

“You already did.”

“Again,” He whispers into your ear before he starts to suck kisses into the skin of your neck.

“Again,” You breathe in agreement, blinking up at the blue sky once more.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

[asimpforthe80s]

You're getting railed when we come home..

Starring: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, use of vibrating dildo, Eddie being angry

- - - - - - - - - ♡

- - - - - - - - - ♡

You're in the passenger seat of Eddies car, casually scrolling through your phone when Eddie snatches it away from you and throws it in the backseat. Your eyes widen in shock. "What the hell?!" You ask him. "Don't 'what the hell' me." He spat, giving you a swift glance then refocused on the road. "What was that?" He asked. "What? You say. "At the restaurant." He snapped. "I saw the way you two looked at each other, I'm not an idiot, okay? That's Steve, for fucks sake." You slump in your seat, uninterested in the conversation.

Your boyfriend was way too overprotective. "Y/N, I'll flip this fucking car upside down and kill us both, sit up properly." He demanded. "No." You spat, crossing your arms. Without hesitation, Eddie increased the speed on the highway. You watch as he races other drivers. He was a reckless driver. "Slow down." You request. "Sit up." He answered. You curse beneath your breath, swallow your pride, and sit up properly. "Happy?" You said. Slowly, he drives back to the normal speed limit. "You're getting railed when we get home." He muttered.

-

As Eddie parks the car, you run up to the doorway, unlock the door, and run up to your room, locking the door. Relieved, you sit on the edge of your bed when you hear the doorknob rattle and unlock. Eddie enters the room and pins you to your bed. "Awww~ don't think that I forgot my promise, princess." You look away, and he forces you to look back at him. His face is inches away from yours.

He picks you up and throws you onto the bed. "Don't move," he says. "Or what?" You reply. "I'm pretty sure you know damn well what would happen." Embarrassed, your face turns into a burning red. "Now, don't move," Eddie says. You obey and don't move as Eddie rummaged around the house for some 'tools'. He comes back with some rope and a vibrating dildo. He tells you to get changed and hands you a bag from Victoria's secret. When you come back, Eddie ties your ankles and wrists so you can't move, and shoves the dildo into your weeping cunt. "If you make a single sound, I'll make this much worse." He threatens. He grabs the remote and turns the vibrating part of the dildo on max speed. Tears sting in the corner of your eyes as you try not to make a sound. But you can't go any longer as your voice let's out a small whimper.

Eddie hears your whimper and turns off the vibrator, roughly taking the dildo out of your pussy. "Aww, princess~ looks like I have to punish you now." You shake your head and let out a whimpers of protest, but he covers your mouth and unties your wrists and ankles. He undresses himself and pins you to the bed once more. Nervous, you look away. Eddie chuckles and shoves his fat cock into your cunt with a squelch. You begin to moan, making Eddie speed up his thrusts. As he goes faster your moans get louder. He pulls out as he remembers that this is supposed to be a punishment and you say, "please, baby~ keep going.."

Eddie replies, "My name isn't baby or Eddie. Try again."

"My love?" You try.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

With a reddened face, you answer, "daddy..?"

He smirks, "Good job, baby." He replies seductivley. "Pick a number from one to ten." He says, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Uhn.. five..?" You say, sounding uncertain. "Ohoh, you're in for a treat, darling." He chuckles and shoves five fingers into your waiting cunt. You tried to squirm away as he swirled them around. He took his fingers out, wiping them off on your clit. Almost immediately, you cum. Embarrassed, you whisper, "da- daddy, I'm cumming~" Eddie smirks once more and replies. "Perfect. Get on your hands and knees, darling." He went over to the bedside drawer as you got into position.

He grabs a pair of handcuffs and cuffs you. He started licking your cum off of your thighs, slowly working himself up to your cunt. Starting to moan uncontrollably, you warn him that you're gonna cum again. His thumb finds your clit as his tongue starts thrusting in and out of your entrance. As you got down from your high, he orders you to sir in front of your desk chair as he sits down. You obey and position yourself in between his thighs. Eddie cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his cock and you immediately start sucking him off. Eddie grabs a small chunk of your hair, stilling your motions as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, soon pushing as deep down as he can, cumming in long, white ropes. Exhausted, you swallow his cum, and he gently guides you back to your bed, taking off the handcuffs. You lie down and hug the pillow close. Eddie sighs and gets in with you, making you let go of the pillow and snuggle up to him instead.

[silentsneezes]

Could you write a fic with an allergic Ja/yce having an itchy, desperate sneezing fit and has no idea what he’s allergic to and Vi/ktor is confused since Ja/yce never has fits

anon, i love the way your mind works, thank you so much for this prompt !!

i made v/iktor have the kink (as more of a self indulgence than anything else), but i’d be more than happy to write another version if this isn’t what you had in mind! there are a few mentions of mess/spray, but no graphic descriptions!

without further ado, here’s 1k of allergic, desperate j/ayce (no spoilers for s2)

The lab is usually filled with the melodious sounds of mechanical tinkering or pencil against paper, save for the days when power tools and accidental explosions are involved. Except today, Viktor’s focus is broken by something entirely different.

Jayce has been sniffling persistently for almost an hour, not frequently enough to warrant using his handkerchief apparently, but enough as to where Viktor finds himself thoroughly distracted. Of course, his attraction to sneezing doesn’t help in the matter, but he’s certain anyone would be distracted by Jayce’s constant sniffles.

Viktor has been keeping a close eye on him, initially hypothesizing that Jayce is sick. After all, he has no allergies— that he knows of— and he doesn’t generally have an irritable or sensitive nose, not unless he’s ill.

Before long, Viktor finds himself spending more time watching Jayce than he is observing the hex core in front of him. His eyes flicker to Jayce as he hears an especially wet sniffle, his chest fluttering as Jayce takes a finger to his nose, rubbing it harshly.

Jayce continues berating the appendage as his nostrils flare, pressing two fingers to the base of his nose and rubbing them side to side. Apparently, the movement only encourages the itch, resulting in a sudden, spraying “hhHDTSHCHh!”

“Bless you,” Viktor hums, walking over to sit beside Jayce’s desk. He’s had enough of just watching his partner; he craves more.

He props his crutch against the table, placing a hand on Jayce’s knee, “Something bothering you?”

“I might need- hh- to step- heh… hh- eh’hhH- step out forhhh- for a- hhHRSHCHhew- a se-hh-second” Jayce stutters through hitching breaths, the tickle evidently getting much worse.

“And why is that, love?” Viktor purrs, knowing he’ll elicit another desperately hitchy response from his partner.

“I d-hh- don’t- hhHNDSXHCHh! know what’s- hh- what- hhhH- nghh… what’s- hh- hhHNGSXHCHh! makihhHng me itch-“ Jayce tries to speak through his hitching breaths and sneezes, sounding arousingly pathetic. His nose is twitching, his nostrils glistening with a sheen of mess.

Viktor continues to listen to Jayce, trying to hold back a smirk. He finds it almost irresistible how pitiful Jayce sounds, his stomach swirling with hot affection.

"Is that so...?" He prompts, trying to get Jayce to finish his sentence as he slowly runs his hand from Jayce’s knee to his inner thigh, clearly enjoying the sudden allergic onslaught.

“It’s- hh- it’s r-hh-really-hheh’HNGSXCHh’uh- hhhih’ih’GKSZCHHhh!”

Viktor’s smirk grows, "I can't understand you like that, love. Try again.”

Jayce practically whines in response. Despite the whine, he leans closer to Viktor, always craving his physical affection.

“hhHHRSDHCHh!” Jayce’s shoulders shudder with the force of the sneeze, barely managing a ragged gasp before a second, “hhHNGSZXHCHh!”

Viktor swallows, his hand tightening its hold on Jayce’s thigh. He’s never seen Jayce react like this, nor did he expect Jayce to have any allergies.

“What’s gotten into you, Милая,” he hums, using his other hand to tilt Jayce’s chin up. He tuts quietly, brushing his thumb over Jayce’s upper lip, “you’re making a mess.”

Jayce blushes crimson, sniffling against the moisture clinging to his nostrils. His eyes are dewy and irritated, clearly in the throws of an allergic reaction.

“I’ve- hh- I’ve never… snf- God- snf- never reacted like- hh… heh- thhhis before,” Jayce says sheepishly, “I don’t even know what- hh- what’s- hhH- fuck- hhHH-.”

Viktor watches with rapt attention as Jayce’s chest swells with each hitching breath. He keeps a firm hold on Jayce’s chin, not allowing him to pull away even as his hitches.

“hhHNGSXHCHh! hhHRHSCHhhew- hhhH- hhhughh- hhHKTSHXHh’uh!”

Viktor swallows as Jayce sprays the triple against his hand, once again wiping the mess from his upper lip, “Bless you,” he purrs, replaying the sounds of Jayce’s sneezes in his mind.

Jayce is rarely one to have fits, save for when he’s especially sick or indulges in Viktor’s kink and induces. Even then, fits like this are hard to come by, let alone naturally.

Jayce sniffles wetly against his streaming nose, letting out a small, itchy cough, “why- hhH- hh… heh- snNFF- hhhhHGDXHCHhhew!”

Viktor’s eyes flick from Jayce’s pink, flaring nostrils to his teary red-rimmed eyes, “you’re definitely having an allergic reaction.”

“But I don’t h-hh-have allerghh-hhH’RRSZXChh! snf- allergies,” Jayce practically whines, his shoulders slumped in defeat as his nose continues twitching.

“Evidently, you do,” Viktor states, letting his hand shift up to cup Jayce’s forehead, just as a precaution, “No fever.”

Jayce fumbles to grab his handkerchief again, his breath hitching into a quick, desperate series of gasps. Viktor’s grip tightens on Jayce’s thigh again, practically purring at the sight of his partner’s desperation.

“Don’t hold back,” he prompts as the hitching continues, watching as Jayce’s reddened nostrils flare desperately. His hitches are intermixed with whines as he builds up to another spraying, “hhH’ESXCHhhh’ugh!”

“Bless y-,” Viktor starts, only to be interrupted with an urgent double, the second sneeze practically tumbling out on top of the first, “hhHGSZHCHh-hHHDSXHHhew!”

Viktor lets his hand travel further up Jayce’s thigh, palming the bulge in his pants as he murmurs, “Bless you.”

Jayce moans at the touch, his hips bucking against Viktor’s hand without second thought. Viktor tuts quietly, “So needy,” as his other hand moves to hold Jayce’s chin again, “what do you say we call it a night?”

Jayce nods, eager to go home and receive Viktor’s attention, “Y-hh-Yeah. I won’t be- hhH- heh- product-hhHNGXCHhh! snf- productive- hhHDSXHCHh’uh! snf- here anywhhhH- hhHh- anyways.”

And with that, the couple takes their leave, Viktor leading Jayce back to his room in the academy. He murmurs quiet blessings the entire way, feeling his stomach churn with hot arousal as Jayce desperately tries to stifle in the halls; pathetic, wet “hhHGGSZXt’SHCHhuh!”s slipping through the fingers failing to pinchhis nose shut.

The End (for now, though I’m tempted to continue this…)

sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors, i wanted to get this posted so i didn’t do a thorough read through

as always, any comments or tags left are very much appreciated !! they inspire me to keep writing

[amirasainz]

Hi I saw you are looking for request!!

pierre gasly/baby sainz

where shes dating pierre post breakup with his ex. Kika is just disrespectful of the new couple dragging them on the internet and keeps showing up to races in the paddock looking for his attention. Baby sainz handles business by getting into a fist fight with her in a club after celebrating Carlos P3 and it's all over the social media. It makes headlines. Maybe Pierre was a bit drunk and kika baby sister!sainz showed her what's up. Pierre finds it funny and super attractive.

Thank you x

THE OTHER WOMAN

Hi guys. I hope you like reading this request.. THIS IS NO HATE TOWARDS KIKA! She actually is one of my favourite wags. @spookystitchery My requests are always open. Please send some! Feedback is always welcome. -XoXo

The music boomed loudly through the nightclub. In the middle of the club, Pierre and Amira danced sinfully to the rhythm. Little did the couple realize that they were being watched by none other than Kika.

Now, let’s rewind a bit.

After a massive fight about his job in Formula 1, Pierre and Kika decided to break up. Three months later, Pierre was frequently seen with Amira Sainz, Carlos’s precious little sister. However, it took another three months for them to officially confirm their relationship. And let’s just say the announcement garnered more attention on social media than any World Cup finale ever.

Of course, Kika got wind of their new relationship. Initially, she thought she could live with it. But as she witnessed how much Pierre and Amira became the “it” couple, she couldn’t help but start to harbor resentment. Specifically, she despised their relationship.

When Kika saw what Amira posted, she copied her actions, trying to make it seem like a coincidence. It only took a couple of posts before fans realized what she was doing. Kika even liked every comment that went against the couple.

The situation had escalated beyond mere jealousy. Kika’s emotions churned like a tempest, fueled by resentment and heartache. Pierre and Amira, blissfully unaware of her turmoil, continued their dance—a celebration of love and shared moments.

Kika’s anger simmered as she watched them twirl, their laughter echoing through the nightclub. She clenched her fists, her mind racing with thoughts of revenge. The Suzuka GP had been the tipping point—the final straw that snapped her fragile restraint.

When Pierre excused himself to fetch drinks, Kika seized her opportunity. She descended to the dance floor, her steps purposeful. Amira stood there, an unwitting accomplice in Kika’s vendetta. The room pulsed with music, drowning out the chaos in Kika’s mind.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Kika sneered, her voice dripping with venom. Amira glanced up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, Kika. Hi,” she replied, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Amira wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but even she couldn’t defend Kika’s irrational hatred any longer.

Kika leaned in, her breath hot against Amira’s ear. “You stole him from me,” she whispered, her fingers grazing Amira’s arm. “But tonight, I’ll steal your joy.” With that, she spun away, leaving Amira bewildered and Pierre’s fate hanging in the balance.

The nightclub pulsed around them, unaware of the storm brewing on the dance floor. Kika’s heart raced; revenge tasted bittersweet. She would ruin their night, even if it meant sacrificing her own sanity. The music swirled, a backdrop to her unraveling resolve.

As Pierre returned, drinks in hand, he found Kika gone and Amira staring after her. The dance continued, but the harmony had shattered. Kikas wrath had ignited a fire—one that threatened to consume them all.

And so, under the neon lights, the tangled threads of love, hate, and desperation wove a dangerous dance—one that would leave scars long after the music faded. When Carlos called Pierre over, Kika took her cance to ruin Amira' sainity.

"You know, when Pierre and I were together he used to performe phenomenal. And the only results with you as his partner are horrible." Amira was more than confused. "What…."" You might think that all the things he does with you are sweet and lovely." The more she talked the more Amira was getting annoyed. And her blood started heating up. "Everything he ever did with you, he already did with me." And now it was truly boiling. "I bet i'm even better in bed than you will ever be. He even said so himself. That i was always leaving his world rocking." Amira started balling her hands in fists. "Did he take you to meet his parents? Did he tell you that we were talking about our own kids? Thinking about marr-" Before she was able to say another word, the Sainz woman already hit her in the face.

"Perra estúpida. ¡Cállate la boca! Si te quería tanto, ¿por qué te dejó por mí, estúpida?" she yelled in Kika's face. In less than two seconds the attention was on them. Before Kika had the chance to hit her back, the two of them were separated.

Pierre picked her up around her waist. Amira however wasn't done. "Es patético que dediques tu tiempo a odiarnos. ¿Quieres pelea? Soy de la puta España. Puedo darte una buena, estúpido idiota." Pierre quickly took her out from the nightclub

"Amour, what the fuck was that? Are you hurt? What the fuck were you thinking?" he ranted angrily. She quickly turned to him: "The fuck was i thinking? Was defending our relationship because that stupid girl was being disrespectful. She said-" Before she could utter another word, Pierre started kissing her.

"Ma cherie, you have no idea how incredibly sexy you are right now. Let's get back to the hotel so we can….."

[dreaisgrayte]

I JUST BINGE READ ALL OF YOUR WORKS. YOU HAVE ME SCREAMING AND CRYING. The amount of detail that you put into them is MWAH the freakin chefs kiss 😘 you have been promoted to my #1, please never stop what you're doing ❤️❤️❤️

on another note, would you mind if I requested a scenario with Gojo? Maybe something about fem!y/n being from a high ranking rival clan, who the Gojo clan has despised for their entire existence. Maybe y/n has always had a crush on satoru ever since they first saw each other as kids, but since they were raised to hate each other it never went any further than a small lil crush. but now they're adults and both powerful sorcerers, her feelings kind of just pop back up out of nowhere and satoru finds it amusing how even after all this time and the things that their clans told them about each other that she would still have her little puppy crush on him. Maybe it could be like a she fell first and he fell harder scenario? i'm a slut for those oh my gosh

thank you so much!!!!

That's so so so sweet of you! Honestly, got me giggling and kicking my feet. Careful, I will propose, istg. This... turned into a monster while writing it. I came up with a silly little plan and a silly little idea to incorporate into your request and then this monstrosity was born. If I wasn't told to stop... I might've never stopped writing on this. I L O V E D this idea. Friends to lovers/1 fell first then the other fell harder I EAT UP EVERY TIME. So, here's what my whore brain wrote <3 love you and I hope you enjoy!

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Gojo harasses the women he's actually into (he forgets how to flirt so just ends up bullying them), teasing, flirting, kissing, cowgirl, missionary, raw sex, a lot of touching, feelings...so many feelings

word count: 6.1k

The Crave | Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

“Are you sure they’ll be there? I don’t want their son to look at our precious daughter.” Your mother holds you closely to her legs, clicking her tongue in annoyance when the maid nods her head. “Unbelievable. You hear that? Do they think they can parade that freak of nature around Japan? Well, they’ll have to see our daughter as well. She’s got the normal amount of eyes and isn’t staring at everyone with those ugly blue ones.” Her tone is harsh and for a six-year-old you, it’s hard to understand why she’s so angry. You also doubted that the young boy had six eyes.

Your father walks into the room, straightening his tie with a stern look on his features. “As long as they keep him away from her, everything will be fine.”

But as you were brought into the party, still close to your mother – you saw nothing but a boy with snow white hair and brilliant blue eyes. Sure the way he glared at you was slightly off-putting, but he was just a boy. He was alone in the room, but everyone seemed to be talking about him. Even your mother shamed him behind a gloved hand. 

Your heart aches. What did he do that warranted such disgust for simply being alive? The Gojo clan and your clan had been at odds since the very conception of both. They bred powerful sorcerors for fame, gain, and wealth. He was yet another product of selfish desire, born into a role and body he didn’t ask for. His life ahead would be filled with always the underline of being strong. Somehow; being uniquely gifted gave him the responsibility to be used like a tool. You knew your fate wasn’t far behind his.

Though, his eyes sparkled like he knew some deeply funny thing about the world. That – even though his destiny was surely to be used up by his clan – there were still things to be enjoyed in the world. It made your…stomach hurt. Both a swirling breeze of cool and a stifling wave of heat. Boiled and frozen, pumping whatever this feeling was straight into your tiny brain. 

That was the first time you ever saw Satoru Gojo, and you’d soon come to realize around the age of 10 that you had developed an infatuation with him. Children surrounded you, chattering about how you and Satoru were going to get married when you were older. Of course, you blushed and stayed quiet – which in hindsight wasn’t the best idea since the gaggle of children went screaming at Satoru about how you wanted to marry him. A less-than-ideal situation because those sapphire eyes tracked you down amongst the crowd and 10-year-old Satoru smirked. You were utterly done for.

Thinking back on the encounters you’d had with Satoru Gojo, you were glad your family hated him. It gave you an excuse to hide behind that fact because still – in your 20s – his face would appear in the back of your mind. You’d heard things about the miraculous powerful sorcerer he’d become from your boss at the special unit for special grade sorcerors. Your mother called you about 30 times just today to remind you Satoru wasn’t the strongest, you were. The Gojo clan was sneaky, they didn’t care about anyone else except for their gain. Your parents had raised you to be wary of anything the Gojo clan did, one misstep, and suddenly you’d be shipped off to the States. 

It was a mix inside your stomach. The Gojos were not to be trusted and you most definitely were not allowed to interact with their heir. So when your boss comes waltzing up to you with a wide smile on her face, you know that rule is about to be broken. “YN, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Her laugh comes off rushed. Your boss knew about the tensions between the rivaling clans, working with special grade sorcerors required her to do so. Then why? Why the hell did she pass over a report with that stupid fucker’s face on it? “There’s a powerful curse roaming around Shibuya that needs the attention of,” she pauses, scrunching her face in thought. 

You sigh, the annoyance in your body pooling in your joints. “Two extremely powerful sorcerors?” You offer, the fakest smile known to mankind presenting itself on your lips.

Nevertheless, she lights up and hits her fist on the flat of her palm. “Exactly! See, this is why we have you on the team!” She exclaims with a little too much vigor for your taste. 

You watch her for a moment, noticing the way her long blue hair bounces around – almost like they were cheering you on as well. “Right…” You drag out the word, glancing at the file folder in your hand. “Why can’t Gojo handle it by himself then?” Her excitement seemingly drains from her face. You take note immediately. “Boss, how powerful is this damn thing?”

༘⋆✿

Meanwhile, Satoru had the same look on his face – annoyance. He understood having two special graders go on this mission would ultimately be the best option, but you? What sort of sick play of the fates was this? You were always so, he groans running a hand down his face, perfect. Your reputation, your battle tactics, hell even your coworkers thought you were the best. That’s insane. What kind of person even has all of their coworkers think the best of them?

He tosses your folder to the side of his desk, wanting to bang his forehead on the surface of the hardwood just to make sure he is seeing things clearly. The higher-ups were always comparing him to you, making sure he never fell behind in anything. Your clan was just a bunch of prissy stuck-up snobs… but then again… so was his. 

It’s useless, he was stuck going on this mission with you because no matter how powerful he was, he would never have power over himself. He reaches for your folder again, flipping it open. Along with the neverending list of your accolades and magnificent achievements, was a picture of you paperclipped to the stack of paper. A few beats of silence pass as Satoru stares at your face. 

After a few more minutes he grunts and shuts the folder again. He focuses on pulling the black cloth back over his eyes. The curse would be a piece of cake, especially with both of you on the mission. That’s not what he was worried about per se. The tricky part was how unbelievably pretty you had gotten to be and how there was a growing ache in the pit of his stomach. Fuck, this was going to be a shitshow. Then again, he couldn’t help but wonder – with a growing smirk on his face – if you still had that puppy dog crush on him.

༘⋆✿

“Yes, right this way ma’am.” A blonde man guides you toward Satoru’s office. He’s in an interesting outfit, not the usual sorcerer apparel. His tie is black and white forming an interesting pattern. His calm blue dress shirt is tucked into a pair of beige slacks. He’s very handsome and also looks very tired. Probably from dealing with all of Satoru’s bullshit if you had to guess. 

He stops in front of a door and you almost don’t catch how his body deflates quickly with a tiny sigh before he’s back to normal. “Before I go in, please just call me YN.” Your body moves on its own, planting a hand on his rather muscular shoulder. 

He attempts a smile, but it falters almost as soon as the corners of his mouth reach their peak. “Call me Nanami, Nanami Kento.” He extends a hand and you gratefully shake it. He seems nice. Then, he opens the door and leaning up against a desk is none other than Satoru. 

Satoru is in uniform and you’ll be damned, he looks too good in it. How can someone that lanky pull off a baggy uniform? His fluffy white hair spikes out in a messy ‘I woke up looking this good’ way. Your heart – against every inch of your being, is thumping wildly in your chest. You should’ve double-checked his file to conclude he doesn’t have six ears. What if he can hear how erratic your pulse is? His azure gaze is locked in on the man beside you. “Thank you, Nanami,” Satoru smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You hear a grunt beside you and then Nanami starts walking down the hall. You watch him leave, wishing he could’ve stayed longer. You hear a loud cough from inside the room. Furrowing your brows you turn your gaze to Satoru, who looks irritated. “I thought you came to spend time with me YN, yet here you are not even paying any attention to me.” He complains, standing up. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “We’re not here for a playdate, we have business to do.” You reply with a lash of venom in your cool tone. Satoru glances off to the side with an airy laugh and smirk. What was he laughing about? You were growing more frustrated with every second. 

“Mmm, playdates remind me of when we were children.” He’s still looking off to the side like he’s watching a memory play out that only he can see. His gaze is back to you in an instant. “You had a crush on me, remember?” He cocks his head to the side, a teasing grin taking over his stupidly handsome face. 

Your body cools with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. Oh, so he wanted to bring up the past? You put on your best ‘fuck around a find out’ smile. “Yeah, but that was before puberty hit and I had standards.” You answer the tone of your voice higher and sweeter than before. Satoru raises his brows as an amused expression takes over his face. “Shall we get to business now?” You snap, which only makes him burst out laughing. 

Satoru is walking toward you now and the alarm bells in your head start flashing. “Hey, before that I have a question I’ve been dying to know.” He leans down, planting a hand on the wall next to your head to be level with you. You stiffen, growing uncomfortable. Not with Satoru being this close, but with how much your body seems to enjoy it. 

Your brows knit together and a frown tugs your face downward. “What?” You fume, jerking your head to emphasize the word. Satoru observes you, that feeling in his stomach clawing its way up. His gaze falls to your lips for the slightest of seconds. 

He swallows, the vexing emotion wanted to be near you, beside you, touching you, in you. How troublesome. The only way for Satoru to get rid of this feeling was to somehow annoy you to the extent you never came around him again. Granted – you didn’t anyway, but this exception had nearly driven him to the edge already. “When you were little, did you ever create an illusion of me? Did you hold his hand? Practice kissing him?” Satoru inquires, feeling full of himself. Your whole face drops. You must be in a different world because he did not just ask you that. A garbled scoff sounds from your throat as you gape at him, utterly dumbfounded. 

You try to process what the hell is going on by opening and closing your mouth, raising your hands then dropping them again, and blinking rapidly. “Oh my God,” are the first words that you say. They’re also the next few thousand words you say considering how many times you repeat the phrase. 

By this time Satoru has dropped his arm, regarding you with a rueful grin. He’s backed away a few paces and you finally point a finger at him. “You are disgusting. You mean nothing to me. You’re such an annoying,” You’re panting, anger rolling through you in cold and hot waves. “An annoying.” 

“What YN? An annoying what?” Your eyes are going to bulge out of your head. He’s smirking again! Smirking!

“An annoying fuckface!” You scream, throwing your hands out in pure frustration. You groan exasperatedly before storming out of his office. 

༘⋆✿

Had you really called him a fuckface? What did that even mean? Satoru is staring at the ceiling of his city-rise apartment, unbelievably shell-shocked from the events earlier today. He flips over on his side. It hadn’t gone exactly like he planned, although he didn’t put much planning into the whole thing. Tomorrow morning you’d both meet up at Shibuya station to track down the cursed spirit. He should probably apologize for acting like an idiot…he groans and flips back onto his back. 

Morning comes like a weight of bricks. You’re both standing awkwardly in the station. The people passing by must sense something because none of them even look your way. Satoru points to the stairs leading to the street level. “Uh, we could always patrol the rooftops…” He’s being so awkward. It was honestly a hit to his ego. Usually, the ladies ate up his tease em’ and leave em’ tactic. As he stares at you a blood-curdling scream echoes from the street above. Dust shakes off of the parts of the station as a loud explosion shakes the ground. 

You glance at Satoru and he nods his head, a knowing smile creeping up his face. Finally, some fighting to get his mind off of whatever asshole thing he’d manage to say to you next. As you both reach the street ahead you’re met with chaos. Cars are being flung by a large lizard entity, but it has eyes everywhere on its body. Satoru is about to gauge an attack but you burst out laughing next to him. His footing stutters, eyes widening as he takes in your genuine laugh. It’s… kind of majestic. You hug your stomach, doubling over in laughter as you extend your hand to point at the cursed spirit. “Looks like,” you snort out a giggle, “Looks like you have some competition for having the most eyes.” 

Gojo is immediately taken aback by your words. A woman runs screaming past you as you wipe a tear away from your eye. “Now let me show you a thing or two.” You sprint toward where rubble and wreckage cause obstacles. You make light work of climbing atop a sizeable pile of rebar and pavement. “Hey, lizard breath! Over here!” Jumping up and down, you wave your arms in the air. Did Satoru have to do anything? You seem to know what to do. 

He watches you with a small chuckle as the monstrosity turns its bulbous eyes toward you. In the blink of its mucusy eyes, your image doubles. Thousands of you spread across the street, then start attacking the main body. Satoru grins, jumping in to join. “Think you could have all the fun without me?!” He yells toward you. 

You’re surprised he could easily see which one of you was the real one. Though, you guess that’s what all those eyes were for. You were working off of one another – working with each other. If your clans could see you now. You’re both laughing and fighting like taking a walk in the park. Surprisingly Satoru can’t keep his eyes off you. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to protect you or simply because as you fought alongside him you proved you didn’t need his protection. When you were with him you didn’t rely on him. No, you could handle yourself, which made Satoru crave your attention. He was the strongest…but with you by his side, his strength would finally be supported rather than taken for granted. 

It doesn’t take long to deal with the cursed spirit and for once Satoru is glad you’re required to come back as a team to fill out paperwork. That way he could get a little extra time with you. He smirks to himself as you finish up in Shibuya. 

He likes the look of you in his office, sitting on the couch in the corner with a small table in front of you. A laptop, a stack of papers, and a cup of tea are all somehow set on top of the small space. Your hair is falling in front of your face as you crouch over to type away the report. He was supposed to be working too, but he’d be damned if he broke his gaze now. “You ever going to stop looking at me and actually fill out some of those files Mr. Gojo?” You hum, still concentrating on the screen in front of you. Of course, you’d figure out he was gawking, it’s not like he was hiding it. 

Satoru clears his throat and glances away. “You can call me Satoru,” He pouts. When was the last time Satoru had requested a woman call him by his given name? Out of everyone else’s mouth, it was a simple endearment, but out of yours? That was something else entirely. 

You sigh, pausing in your efforts to finish the paperwork before dawn. You roll your lips into your mouth and tap your chin. “I think I much prefer fuckface.” You say, then smile sweetly. 

Satoru nods his head, pushing out of his seat. “Yeah? You want to call me fuckface or you want to fuck my face?” He banters. Your body tenses as you watch him sit on the edge of his desk. There's a pressure building in between your thighs that you can’t ignore. Your body feels like there are phantom touches caressing all of the places you yearned for Satoru to touch. 

You huff and turn away from him. “Back to this? Where’s your dignity, your charm, your manhood?” You ask. You jerk to the side, shaking your head. “No wait- that’s not exactly what I mean to say please don’t-”

Satoru is already laughing. “My manhood? Damn, you really must be thinking up all sorts of illusions in there, but,” he crosses the room, stopping in front of your table. He pushes the laptop shut with his fingertips. “The real thing is always going to be better darlin’.”

It suddenly seems very hard to swallow, so you let out an awkward laugh before gathering up your things. “Right, sure, I have to go.” You stumble over your words, rushing for the door. If you didn’t get out of this room right now you were sure bad things would happen. By bad things, you meant letting your guard down for a second around a man who was just flirting with you for the hell of it. You were a part of a rival clan, which meant he couldn’t have you. That also meant he wanted you more than the average woman. Of that, you could be certain, but you wouldn’t be some plaything Satoru could throw to the side once he’d had his fun. 

Behind you Satoru’s face had fallen, his chest rising and falling quickly as you scurry out of his office. Good, now that the real threat had been dealt with, he had some paperwork to finish. You’d be safer away from him, not wrapped up in his clan dealings and always having to live for others. For once, Satoru wanted to be truthfully selfish – sure he would go out, drink, party, enjoy one or two ladies, but in the end he was left with himself again. Satoru couldn’t save himself and he was scared that the only one powerful enough to pull him out of this desperate cry for help…was you.

༘⋆✿

A couple of months pass by without hide or tail of Satoru. Working alongside him was honestly…freeing. You weren’t held back by the possibility of someone weaker getting hurt. You groan, turning your face to the sky above you. It was gratifying being able to let loose with your own powers. Usually that many mimics will render you immobile, but you were able to spring into action right next to them. “Ma’am, a report from the Tokyo campus,” A file is passed in front of you. As you glance through the pages you turn to glance at your boss. 

She seems busy chatting away with one of the other sorcerers. You blow out a sigh and tuck the file under your arm. “Call them back and tell them I’ll be there within the hour.” You glance down at your sweats, wincing at the fact you wore such comfortable clothes to work. “Maybe make that 2.” You mutter, a disapproving scowl taking over your face. 

You ran home to change into a pair of running shoes, black leggings, and whatever shirt was on top of your dirty laundry. Unlike someone else, you couldn’t teleport, so public transportation was your only way to reach the Tokyo campus area. Walking up the stairs takes a little more effort than you’d like to admit, but when you reach the top you’re met with a shirtless Satoru Gojo and Nanami Kento training. Your jaw practically dislocates from your mouth as you gawk. They were gliding through the air and Nanami somehow had a more excited expression on his face than before. Of course, Satoru notices you first, but that allows Nanami to get a whack in. “Hey! That was foul play.” Satoru hisses, holding his cheek. 

Nanami shrugs, bending down to pick a towel off the ground. “Should’ve put your infinity back up.” He then glances at you and smiles. Your heart warms and a cheesy smile appears on your face. “Hey YN,” He waves and for a moment you’re awestruck by how handsome he is. The Lord was kind to these men. So…so very kind. Both of them were muscular, their abdomens shaped into ridges and divots. Biceps, triceps, everything went on in rippling splendor forever. You’d thought Satoru had maintained a scrawny figure, but you were certainly proved wrong and you were so glad you were. 

 “Hi there Nanami.” You walk over to him, picking up a stray water bottle on your way. You hand it to him but he shakes his head. 

“Thank you, but that’s actually his,” he juts his thumb toward Satoru and your face falls. You toss it toward the silver-haired man and he annoyingly catches it with ease. 

He glares at you, throwing his towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, thanks YN.” He grumbles. Nanami nods toward the school building. 

“If you let me wash up I can take you to Yaga’s office.” He’s back to smiling and honestly, you might have a thing for smiles. 

You latch your hands behind your back and giggle to yourself. “That would be really sweet of you Nanami.” Satoru snorts out a laugh on the other side of Nanami. You shoot him a glare. 

“Why are you callin’ Nanami by his first name but you don me fuckface?” Satoru shoots toward you, frustration twinging all of his happiness from the earlier training session. Nanami peers between you two, and then his brows shoot up with an airy laugh. 

“Oh my God you’re the one that called him fuckface? That’s so fucking funny.” Nanami laughs toward the sky, a soft sound coming from him. 

Satoru grumbles to himself, rolling his eyes like a frustrated child. “You are coming with me.” He growls, latching onto your wrist and pulling you toward the school. 

You stumble over your footing as he yanks you down the pathway. “S-Satoru w-wait oh my God!” You yell as you finally enter the building. He tosses you into the room you know to be his office. You falter backward, catching yourself on his desk. “What’s going on, what the fuck was that?” You hiss. He stalks toward you, throwing his towel onto the couch with a little more aggression than you’d like. 

He closes the distance between you, his nostrils flaring and eye twitching. “Oh so now you call me by name? Oh well, it’s too late for that now princess. You’ve pushed me far enough.” He laughs hotly moving between your legs. He’s massive and his skin is warm, you can feel the heat radiating off of him through your pants. He towers over you in an overwhelmingly torturously attractive way. 

It was hard to understand what was happening with the ringing of your heart covering all rational thought. “What are you saying? I’m not the one that made all those stupid jokes,” You mutter, looking away from him. He hisses, grabbing onto your chin and making your gaze settle back onto him. 

He laughs dryly as you blink questioningly at him. “Yeah? You had that stupid crush on me, that’s what caused this.” He spits, but you still can’t decipher what he’s trying to get at. 

Your lips part, letting out a small exasperated breath. “Listen, I didn’t mean to crush on you again, just old habits die hard I guess,” You explain, groaning as his grip tightens on your chin. His face looks tormented like some great plague has taken over his body.  

He scoffs, tossing your face to the side. You grunt with the impact, narrowing your eyes in annoyance. “Again? Haaa,” He covers his eyes with his hand, groaning softly. “You ran away from me then ignored me YN… how does that scream ‘I have a crush on you?’” The hand that was over his eyes drags down his face. You don’t have an explanation for him because you barely had one for yourself. “You must’ve sent one of your puppets to walk around the streets by my apartment, the campus, but the one thing I can’t figure out is how you got one of them to walk around in my head. I can’t see anyone except you and I’m going crazy.” His eyes are pained and his breath is labored. You finally understand. 

“Satoru…” You whisper his name with all the softness in the world, years of loving him building up into an insurmountable emotion. He turns away from you, covering his mouth this time. 

“Fuck YN, don’t say my name like that.” He hisses and you swear you can see playboy Satoru Gojo’s ears blaze a red color. “You weren’t even trying earlier, but you made me so jealous. Nanami was flirting with you right in front of me and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. I wanted to both be Nanami and beat the shit out of him.” He slowly lets his gaze turn to you again. “I think I’m in love with you YN,” His voice is nervous, and his eyes are flittering all over your face, searching for answers. 

In love with you? Satoru Gojo was in love with…you? After all the years of your mother telling you to stay away from that boy. You were never supposed to be in this situation, especially not with the head of the Gojo clan. But you know what they say… actually, you didn’t really care about some emotional quote that would relate to this very moment because all you wanted to do – craved to do, was kiss Satoru until the sun set behind the Tori gate. 

“Our clans aren’t going to be very happy about this new development.” You chuckle and Satoru rolls his eyes. 

“That’s not an answer YN…” Okay, so he wants words. A confirmation? What exactly did you feel? Was it love? Was it something different? You didn’t have to know now, time would solidify whatever love is. All you can do is put a name to what you’re feeling.

You smile, a blossoming feeling thumping in your chest. “Yes Satoru, I love you.” You almost don’t get the words out because Satoru slips a hand into your hair and brings your mouths together in a passionate kiss. He kisses you like he’s been a starved man all his life, like he’s never wanted to kiss someone this badly. 

Satoru is obsessed with the way you gasp between kisses and how your eyes squeeze shut. “You can open your eyes, I’m the real thing.” He chuckles and brushes his thumb against your cheek soothingly. 

You weren’t afraid Satoru was one of your illusions, but rather how real this was in the first place. When you really want something you shouldn’t the whole world kind of falls away when you get that thing. When Satoru kisses you, it’s only him and that was terrifying for someone who constantly surrounded herself with things. You peek through your lashes at him anyway. “The same thing goes for me, I’m real.” You state lamely. 

Satoru blows out a chuckle, grinning mischievously. “Mmm, I’m not so sure about that, maybe you should show me.” His eyes darken and the sweltering heat you felt before nearly doubles in size and intensity.

You put your hand over the one he has on your cheek, lowering it until his fingertips brush against the swell of your chest. His brows shoot up and before he has much time to react you move it lower to the apex of your thighs. His breathing falters as he stares, eyes swimming with lust. “Come on Gojo, show me what a rival clan can really do.” The corners of your mouth lift in an enticing smirk. 

For all the time he was irritating and downright egotistical, Satoru is a good listener now. He pushes you into the desk, groaning when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “You sure do drive a hard bargain.” His mouth tickles against your neck, kissing a trail down to your shoulder. He pauses, taking in a breath. “Mmm, you smell so good,” He mumbles against your shirt. You flush, embarrassment running hot through your veins. Did he like the smell of your dirty shirt? If you’d known the situation you’d be in right now, you would’ve put more thought into what you were wearing. 

He brings himself back up toward your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips. A selfish moan breaks through as Satoru works his lips against yours. “God, you’re so good at that.” You breathe out. A satisfied hum rumbles from his chest. 

You take in his chest, appreciating the view. This earns a chortle from Satoru. “You know, I’m starting to think you only like me when my shirt is off.” You lean into him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s something hard pressing into your thigh. How you didn’t feel it until now is a mystery because that thing is one of the 7 wonders of the world. Satoru grunts, pulling you up and off the ledge of his desk. “Do you feel that? I think I finally understand what the elders were talking about. All I want to do with you right now is ram my cock into you until I have you writhing under me. Then finish fucking my cum into your cervix so you can mother my children. That way, your parents will have to like me and my clan, because you’ll be a Gojo.” He’s being serious right now, setting you down on the couch. 

You bite your lip curiously. “Do you plan on wedding me Satoru Gojo?” It’s a loaded question that he didn’t have to answer. It was a sweet moment and there you had to go asking a question like that. You don’t expect Satoru to sink onto one knee, take your hand, and place loving kisses on your knucks. 

He meets your gaze, electricity burning between the both of you. “May you wrap my heart around your finger one day and bear my burdens as I will bear yours.” What was even happening? Marriage? Surely this was one big dream, because years ago when you were both kids even imagining this day seemed like a far-off occurrence. This was all so sudden, but in all honesty, when have the two of you ever conformed to conventional standards? 

You were certain of one thing, you didn’t want your first time with Satoru Gojo to be on some dusty couch in the corner of his office. “Satoru… do you think we could continue…” You glance down, running your tongue over your lips. “This elsewhere?” His eyes glimmer, his mouth quirking up in a grin. 

He stands, still holding your hand. “I just basically proposed to you and all you can think about is getting in my pants. Man, rejection stings.” He tuts, shaking his head. You roll your eyes as you both laugh, a heavyweight finally being lifted. Yeah, this felt right. 

All at once you feel nauseated and dizzy. You squeeze your eyes shut, grasping onto Satoru like he was the only thing that could hold you up. “What the fuck was that?” You gasp, blinking your eyes open to find a completely different scene than when you closed them. 

Satoru caresses your cheeks, grounding you to him. “Sorry, I promise you’ll get used to it, well… maybe not, but still I’m sorry.” 

“Where are we?” You gasp, hands still clutching his arms as you peer around the living room you appear to be in. It feels less than lived in like someone staged the whole apartment – which is what you assumed Satoru had teleported you both into.

He scratches the back of his neck while nervously chuckling. “My apartment,” His gaze falls to you, taking in how perfect you look among his things. “Do you like it?” He asks with such a look in his eyes, similar to a puppy begging for attention.

You peek out the ground to ceiling-level windows, laughing to yourself. “I didn’t know teachers got paid so much.” Satoru grins, nodding toward the windows – or rather the city outside of them. 

“Oh you know, I got kind of a side hustle going on.” He shrugs, then turns to you, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. “You should see the bedroom.” He offers you his hand, jerking his head to a hallway. “I hear the owner hates it when the bed is made, the least we should do is go mess them up for him.” You take Satoru’s hand and let him lead you into the bedroom at the end of the hall. 

Once the door was shut behind you the playful comments were thrown aside – replaced by frantic kisses and undressing. Satoru sits on the foot of the bed, watching you in all your splendor. Your body was that of a dream, your breasts, the slope of your stomach, thighs, fuck everything about you was glorious. Satoru couldn’t remember how to breathe gazing upon you. “Like what you see?” You tease, positioning yourself over his lap. 

You brace yourself on his shoulders, settling onto your knees. Satoru blows out a choked noise. “Thank fuck I have so many eyes because I couldn’t imagine not being able to see all of you like this.” His hands are on you, running up your back, molding his long fingers into your squishy tits, and then down your side to dig his nails into your hips. “Are you okay with this?” He inquires, tilting his head. 

You smile, but a small part of you wants to line yourself up with his cock and bottom out. “I’m okay with so much more.” You breath. He understands, after all you both want the same thing right now – crave it. 

You both wait with bated breath as Satoru lets you guide him into your entrance. With all the teasing and edging closer and closer to this moment, you were far from dry. It was a little embarrassing how slick you were considering there was practically no foreplay. You hiss as his pretty cock sinks deeper into your throbbing cunt. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. You can take all of me,” His grip on your hips tightens, helping push you onto him. A strangled moan hisses out of your mouth as you slump onto Satoru’s shoulders. “Feels s’good baby. God, you’re so perfect.” He’s kissing your temple and you’re squeezing his cock with airy moans. After a moment, he bottoms out, a guttural groan rumbling from within him. “You did so good, fuck,” 

The air feels thick, heady, and fills with the wet sound of Satoru’s cock inside you. “Go-go ahead and move.” You order with a shaky breath. He starts to move, laying back to better fuck into you. You plant your hands on his abdomen, moaning loudly. His length hits every sensitive spot at once, causing you to tremble on top of him.

Satoru chuckles, then suddenly flips you both over. “Come on YN, I thought you’re one of the strongest sorcerers in Japan, you can handle me fucking you.”