#i want to be there Now. time is being wasted right now without you‚ wherever you are

[sixeyesonathiel]

WHEREVER YOU WANT IT, BABY, I’M TAKING YOU THERE!

↳ being married to gojo satoru means never knowing peace. or underwear.

4.4k words of domestic filth inspired from that one tiktok audio

cw: light degradation, praise kink, mild dacryphilia, food play (whipped cream, batter), dry humping, mild exhibitionism, marking (hickeys, biting), mild overstimulation, explicit language, 18+ only, minors DNI.

a/n : made a version with suguru for my bbg lyra here!

ON THE COUCH.ᐟ

you’re sunk into the couch, legs tucked under the plush throw you’ve had since forever, the one satoru swears smells like your shampoo. the TV’s glow bathes the living room in soft blues, your favorite show’s theme song chiming through the speakers.

you’re halfway through a bowl of popcorn, kernels scattered on your lap, determined to actually watch this episode without your husband derailing you. it’s your comfort rewatch, the one you’ve seen enough times to recite the lines, but it still hits every time. you’re mid-bite when you feel him—satoru, your personal chaos agent, already sprawled across your lap like a cat who’s never heard of personal space.

his head’s nestled against your stomach, white hair a mess from where he’s been nuzzling into you, and you can feel the warmth of his breath through your—his—t-shirt, the one you stole years ago and never gave back. it’s loose, slipping off one shoulder, and his fingers are already sneaking under the hem, tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“baby,” he whines, voice low and syrupy, lips brushing just under your ribs, “you’ve seen this episode a million times. i haven’t been in your mouth once today.”

you don’t look at him, eyes glued to the screen, though you’re barely processing the dialogue. “you said you wanted to cuddle,” you mutter, popping another kernel in your mouth, trying to sound unbothered. your heart’s already picking up, traitorously aware of how his touch sparks heat under your skin.

“i am cuddling,” he insists, shifting so his body presses closer, one muscled thigh sliding between your legs, nudging them apart. you can feel the denim of his jeans through your thin shorts, rough against your inner thighs, and the warmth pooling low in your belly betrays you.

“just, y’know, with benefits.” he adds, his lips curling into a grin you don’t need to see, and he nips at the soft skin above your waistband, making you jolt.

“satoru,” you warn, but it’s weak, half-hearted, and he knows it. his hand slips higher under your shirt, fingers grazing the underside of your breast, thumb brushing just shy of where you want it. you shift, trying to focus on the TV, but he’s relentless, mouthing at your stomach now, slow, wet kisses that leave your skin tingling. “i’m watching.”

“watch, then,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble against your hip. he tugs your shorts down an inch, just enough to expose the lacy edge of your panties, and his lips find the sensitive spot right above. “don’t miss the good part, sweetheart.” his tone’s teasing, but there’s an edge to it, a hunger that makes your breath hitch.

he pulls you forward, guiding you to straddle his thigh, the sudden pressure of his leg against your core making you gasp. your hands grip the couch cushions, popcorn bowl tipping precariously, but he steadies it with a chuckle. “careful, baby. don’t waste snacks.”

his hand’s between your legs now, fingers brushing over your panties, slow and deliberate, feeling how you’re already soaking through. “fuck,” he breathes, almost to himself, eyes glinting up at you, blue and predatory in the TV’S light. “you’re this wet and still pretending you care about your show?”

he presses harder, circling your clit through the fabric, and you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan. the characters on screen are arguing, but it’s just noise now, drowned out by the thump of your pulse.

“shh,” he whispers, when a soft whimper escapes you, his free hand tugging the throw blanket over your lap. “can’t hear the dialogue.” he’s mocking you, smirking as he slips his fingers under your panties, grazing your slick folds.

you’re grinding against his thigh without meaning to, the friction of denim and his deliberate touches pushing you closer to the edge. every time you get too loud—a gasped “satoru”or a shaky moan—he leans up, kissing you sloppy to muffle the sound, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he’s claiming it.

“quiet, baby,” he teases, pulling back to nip your bottom lip. “you’re drownin’ out the plot.”

you’re a mess already, shorts bunched around your thighs, panties pushed to the side, and he’s barely touched you. the blanket’s slipping, and he grabs it, draping it over your shoulders with a grin.

“perfect,” he says, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “you love this thing, don’t you? let’s put it to good use.” he shoves it against your mouth, pressing it there as he slides two fingers inside you, curling them deep. your muffled cry vibrates into the fabric, and he laughs, low and filthy. “fits, doesn’t it? you and your cozy shit.”

you’re trembling, thighs shaking as he works you, his thigh still pressed against you, encouraging the desperate roll of your hips. the TV’S forgotten, just a blur of colors and sounds, but he’s not done playing.

“eyes on the screen,” he orders, free hand gripping your chin to turn your head. “this is your favorite part, right? where they confess or whatever?” you can’t answer, too lost in the stretch of his fingers, the way he’s dragging you toward release. your moans are louder now, barely stifled by the blanket, and he pulls it away, tossing it aside. “fuck it,” he growls, “i wanna hear you.”

he’s bored of teasing, you can tell, because he’s moving fast now, yanking your shorts and panties down completely, leaving them tangled around one ankle.

“over the table,” he says, voice rough, and before you can process, he’s got you bent over the coffee table, popcorn bowl knocked to the floor, kernels crunching under his feet. your hands brace against the wood, cool against your flushed skin, and he’s behind you, jeans unzipped, pressing into you in one slow, deep thrust that makes you sob.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, hands gripping your hips so hard you’ll bruise. “you feel so good.” the table creaks with every snap of his hips, the tv still blaring behind you, your favorite character’s voice a mocking backdrop to the way he’s ruining you. he leans forward, chest against your back, and grabs your chin again, forcing you to look at the screen. “don’t tap out now,” he pants, thrusting harder, “this is your comfort episode, right?”

you’re crying now, tears of pleasure and overwhelm streaking your cheeks, your body shaking as he drives you toward the edge. every thrust is deliberate, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, and his voice is a constant stream of filth “love how you take me,” “you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” “gonna make you come so hard you forget this stupid show.”

you’re incoherent, babbling his name, nails scratching at the table as your orgasm hits, a white-hot wave that leaves you trembling, clenching around him.

he’s not far behind, groaning your name as he spills inside you, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last shudder from you. when he finally pulls out, you’re a wreck, collapsing against the table, panties still dangling off one ankle, tears smudging your mascara. he’s laughing, breathless, pulling you back onto the couch and into his lap, the throw blanket draped over you both like nothing happened.

“c’mere,” he murmurs, softer now, kissing your temple as he grabs the remote. he rewinds the episode, smirking as he feeds you a piece of popcorn and you’re too blissed out to do anything else but chew.

“guess we both got our favorites tonight,” he says, voice smug but warm, his arm tight around you. your legs are still shaking, and you nuzzle into his chest, the theme song starting again as you mumble something about hating him. he just laughs, kissing your hair, and you know you’re in for it all over again tomorrow.

IN THE BED.ᐟ

you’re drifting in that hazy space between sleep and waking, the kind where the world feels soft and warm, like you’re cocooned in a dream you don’t want to leave. the sheets are tangled around your legs, your tank top rucked up from tossing in the night, and you’re vaguely aware of the faint morning light slipping through the curtains.

but then you feel it—satoru’s weight shifting behind you, the mattress dipping as he presses closer, his bare chest warm against your back. his breath ghosts over your neck, slow and deliberate, and you know he’s been awake for a while, just waiting for you to stir.

his arm’s already slung over your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach, possessive but gentle, like he’s anchoring you to him. you feel him, hard and insistent, grinding lazily between your thighs, the thin fabric of your panties doing nothing to dull the heat. “mm,” he hums, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice thick with sleep and something hungrier.

“good morning, wife.” his words are soft, but there’s that edge to them, the one that makes your heart stutter even half-asleep.

you groan, burrowing your face into the pillow, the cool cotton a brief escape from his intensity. “satoru, it’s too early,” you mumble, voice muffled, though you’re already shifting back against him, instinctive, your body betraying your weak protest.

he only chuckles low, vibrating against your spine, and he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, slow and wet, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

“never too early for you, angel,” he murmurs, his hand sliding under your tank top, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then higher, cupping your breast with a reverence that feels almost too sweet for him. his thumb grazes your nipple, teasing it to a peak, and you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering open despite yourself.

“been dreamin’ about you,” he says, kissing down your shoulder now, each press of his lips a deliberate worship. “couldn’t help myself.”

“you’re so creepy,” you mutter, but there’s no heat in it, just a sleepy laugh as you turn your head to peek at him.

he’s already staring, blue eyes soft and molten in the dim light, his white hair a tousled halo against the pillow. he’s grinning, that lovesick, idiot grin that makes your chest ache, and you can’t help but reach back, fingers tangling in his hair. “watching me sleep again?”

“guilty,” he admits, not even pretending to be ashamed. he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can lean over you, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. thank you for marryin’ me.” his voice cracks a little, like he means it too much, and you’re torn between rolling your eyes and melting completely.

“sappy idiot,” you whisper, but you’re smiling, pulling him closer until his lips find yours, soft and unhurried, all morning haze and warmth. t

he kiss deepens, his tongue slipping against yours, and you feel his hand slide lower, tugging your panties down just enough to press his fingers between your thighs. you gasp into his mouth, and he swallows it, murmuring, “shh, let me say good morning properly.”

it’s slow at first, all lazy touches and quiet gasps, his fingers circling your clit with a patience that’s rare for him. you’re still half-draped in sleep, your moans muffled against the pillow as he works you open, his lips trailing down your spine, leaving a constellation of hickeys where your neck meets your shoulder.

“mine,” he whispers, over and over, like a prayer, each word punctuated by a kiss, a nip, a mark that says you’re his. you’re soaking now, hips rocking against his hand, and he groans, low and needy, grinding harder against your thigh.

“satoru,” you breathe, voice shaky, and he hums, pleased, flipping you onto your back with a gentleness that makes your heart flip. you blink up at him, and he’s a vision—hair messy, eyes glowing with something too tender, too raw.

“wanna see your face, angel,” he says, grinning as he leans down, kissing your forehead, then your eyelids, then your lips again, like he can’t get enough. his fingers are still moving, slow and deliberate, and you’re trembling, legs spreading wider to give him more.

he pulls back just enough to tug your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere in the sheets, and you’re bare beneath him, tank top pushed up to expose your stomach. he kisses lower, lips grazing your navel, then the soft skin just above your core, his tongue tracing the outline of your ring finger where your wedding band glints in the light.

“fuck, i love this,” he murmurs, sucking gently on the digit, his eyes locked on yours. “love you.”

you’re a mess already, whining when he settles between your thighs, his breath hot against your slick folds. he doesn’t tease for once, just dives in, tongue lapping at you like he’s starving, and you cry out, hands fisting in his hair.

he’s relentless, sucking and licking until you’re bucking against his face, and he’s moaning like he’s the one getting off, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.

“taste so good,” he pants, pulling back just to spit on you, watching it drip before diving back in, and you’re sobbing, the pleasure too much, too perfect.

when you’re close, he crawls back up, kissing you sloppy so you taste yourself on his tongue, and you feel him nudge against you, hard and leaking. “ready, baby?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, and you nod, breathless, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he slides in slow, inch by inch, and you both groan, the stretch so good it makes your toes curl. he’s deep, filling you completely, and he stills, just for a moment, letting you adjust, his lips brushing yours.

“love you,” he says again, thrusting slow and deep, his hand finding yours, fingers interlacing. your ring glints between your joined hands, and he kisses it, then you, his eyes never leaving yours. it’s intense, the kind of eye contact that strips you bare, and you’re both pathetic, gasping messes, your nails digging into his back as he moves. “you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, voice breaking, “my wife, my everything.”

you’re coming before you realize it, a slow, rolling wave that has you clinging to him, sobbing his name, and he’s right behind you, groaning into your neck as he spills inside, his thrusts stuttering. e

he doesn’t pull out, just stays there, buried deep, his weight grounding you as you both catch your breath.

he nuzzles into your hair, rubbing slow circles on your back, and murmurs, “five more minutes. need to be home a little longer.”

you hum, content, your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. the sheets are a mess, your tank top’s somewhere around your collarbone, and you can feel him softening inside you, but neither of you moves. he’s drawing lazy patterns on your hip, whispering how much he loves being married to you, and you’re grinning, too in love to care about the morning chill or the fact that you’ll need to wash these sheets later.

“you’re such an idiot,” you mumble, kissing his chest, and he laughs, soft and warm, pulling you closer like he’ll never let go.

ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER.ᐟ

you’re in the zone, apron tied loosely around your waist, the kitchen alive with the hum of your favorite pop playlist—satoru’s insistence that it’s “our jam” still makes you laugh. flour dusts your hands, the air sweet with vanilla and sugar as you whisk pancake batter, the morning light streaming through the window.

you’re flipping a pancake, singing off-key to some cheesy chorus, when you feel him—satoru, your walking disaster, sneaking up behind you. his arms snake around your waist, firm chest pressing against your back, and his chin rests on your shoulder, breath hot against your neck.

“baby,” he purrs, voice low and playful, lips grazing your ear, “you’re too sexy in this apron. makes me wanna eat you instead.” his hands slide under the fabric, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts, and you feel him, already hard, grinding subtly against your ass.

you snort, not turning around, focusing on the skillet. “you ate an hour ago,” you say, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your spine. you flip the pancake, the sizzle masking the hitch in your breath as his fingers dip just under your waistband, tracing the skin there.

“not talkin’ about food,” he murmurs, licking a smear of batter off your cheek, slow and deliberate, his tongue warm and teasing.

you swat at him with the spatula, half-laughing, but it’s shaky, your body already betraying you. “satoru, i’m cooking!” you protest, but he’s undeterred, hands slipping lower, tugging your shorts down an inch to expose the lacy edge of your panties.

“and i’m starvin’,” he whines, dramatic as ever, but there’s a growl beneath it, hungry and raw. before you can argue, he’s lifting you onto the counter, effortless, like you weigh nothing. the mixing bowl wobbles, batter sloshing, and you grip his shoulders, flour-covered hands leaving white prints on his black t-shirt.

“satoru, the pancakes—” you start, but he’s already between your legs, spreading them with a nudge of his hips, his grin wicked.

“fuck the pancakes,” he says, grabbing the whipped cream can from the fridge, shaking it with a flourish. “gonna taste-test my favorite dessert.” he sprays a messy heart on your inner thigh, the cold cream making you gasp, and you laugh, shoving at his chest, but it turns into a moan as he leans down, licking it clean, his tongue slow and filthy, eyes locked on yours.

“satoru, you’re wasting it!” you scold, but your voice cracks, your hands tangling in his hair as he nips at the sensitive skin.

“waste?” he scoffs, pulling back to lick a stripe of batter off your finger, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan. “this is art.” he tugs your shorts and panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them off, and dives in, mouth hot and relentless against your core.

you cry out, head tipping back, the counter hard under you as you grip the edge, knocking over a measuring cup. flour scatters across the surface, and he’s moaning into you, like he’s the one getting off, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that makes your thighs shake.

“fuck, you taste better than anything,” he pants, pulling back just to spit on you, watching it drip before diving back in, his fingers joining now, two sliding inside you, curling deep. you’re a mess, gasping his name, your apron bunched around your waist, flour smudged on your thighs where his hands grip you.

he grabs the whipped cream again, spraying a dollop right above your clit, and licks it off with a filthy moan, the cold cream and his warm tongue a dizzying contrast that has you bucking against his face.

you’re close already, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, but he’s not done playing. he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and grabs a spoonful of batter from the bowl, smearing it across your collarbone. “messy girl,” he teases, leaning in to lick it off, his teeth grazing your skin.

you’re whining, desperate, pulling at his shirt, and he finally gives in, unzipping his jeans and pushing inside you in one swift thrust, the stretch making you sob. the spatula clatters to the floor, and you’re clutching his shoulders, nails digging in as he moves, fast and deep, the counter creaking under you.

“mm, let’s make every mornin’ cream-filled,” he groans, licking more batter off your neck, his thrusts relentless, knocking measuring spoons and a bag of sugar to the floor. you’re incoherent, babbling his name, your legs wrapped around his waist as he drives you higher.

“so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he murmurs, grabbing your hand, sucking the flour off your fingers as he fucks you, his other hand circling your clit until you’re screaming, the orgasm hitting hard, your body shaking, clenching around him.

he’s right behind you, groaning your name as he spills inside, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last shudder. the oven beeps, shrill and insistent, but neither of you cares, too caught up in the messy, blissful aftermath.

you’re panting, slumped against him, the counter sticky with flour, cream, and batter, your apron a crumpled mess. he’s laughing, breathless, kissing you sloppy, his hands still roaming like he can’t stop touching you.

“fair trade,” he says, eyeing the skillet where the pancakes are charred to a crisp. you smack his chest, breathless, muttering, “you’re cleaning this.” he just grins, licking a stray bit of whipped cream off your neck, and says, “worth it.” you’re both giggling, feeding each other burnt pancake scraps, flour still smudged on his cheek, and you know the kitchen’s a disaster, but your marriage is thriving, sticky and sweet as the mess you’ve made.

ON THE STAIRS.ᐟ

you’re halfway up the stairs, each step creaking under your furious pace, the crumpled receipt in your hand like a smoking gun. “satoru, three hundred dollars on towels?” you snap, whirling around to glare at him, your voice echoing in the narrow stairwell. “towels? we have lights! electricity! a mortgage to pay!”

he’s trailing behind, hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets, looking infuriatingly unbothered. his white hair catches the dim glow of the hallway light, and that stupid, lopsided grin is already curling his lips.

“they’re plush, baby,” he says, shrugging like he didn’t just blow a small fortune. “like you. thought it’d be romantic.” his blue eyes glint, teasing, and you can tell he’s not taking this seriously, which only makes your blood boil more.

“romantic?” you hiss, gripping the banister so hard your knuckles whiten. “we could’ve bought a new couch! or, i don’t know, groceries for a month?” you wave the receipt in his face, and he has the audacity to lean forward, squinting at it like it’s a museum exhibit. “you’re impossible!”

he steps closer, one stair below you, towering over you despite the height difference. “c’mon, sweetheart,” he drawls, voice dropping low, “you married a brat. you knew what you were gettin’ into.” his hand darts out, grabbing your ankle, and before you can react, he tugs you down a step, making you stumble into him.

“satoru!” you squeal, clutching his shoulders to keep from falling, the receipt fluttering to the floor.

“what?” he says, all mock innocence, but his hands are already sliding up your calves, rough and warm, stopping just under the hem of your shirt. “you’re cute when you’re mad.” he’s grinning now, full-on, and you want to smack him, but his chest is pressed against yours, and you can feel his heartbeat, steady and maddeningly calm.

“come here and spank me about it, then,” he murmurs, leaning in, lips brushing your jaw.

“you’re not gettin’ outta this,” you mutter, but your resolve’s crumbling, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate. your hands betray you, tangling in his hair, and he hums, pleased, nipping at your collarbone. “i’m serious, satoru—”

“so am i,” he growls, and suddenly he’s kissing you, hard and sloppy, backing you up against the railing until it digs into your spine. the stairwell’s narrow, the steps uneven under your feet, but he’s got you pinned, one hand hiking up your shirt, the other tugging your panties down just enough to bare you. “let’s see how mad you really are,” he says, pulling back to smirk, his fingers brushing between your thighs, finding you already wet. “oh, baby, really mad, huh?”

you groan, half in frustration, half in need, and he takes that as permission, lifting your leg to hook it over the next step up, the angle opening you to him. “satoru, we’re on the stairs,” you hiss, but it’s weak, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fumbles with his sweatpants, freeing himself. he’s hard, leaking, and when he presses against you, you both moan, the sound echoing in the tight space.

“fuck, you’re so perfect,” he groans, pushing in deep, one rough thrust that makes you cry out, your head tipping back against the wall.

the railing’s creaking, the stairs shifting under his weight, but he’s relentless, fast and feral, each snap of his hips driving you higher. “say you forgive me,” he growls, biting your neck, his teeth sharp enough to leave a mark. you’re sobbing, swearing at him—“you’re such an idiot”—but your body’s begging for more, hips rocking to meet his.

“never,” you gasp, but it’s a lie, and he knows it, laughing breathlessly as he sucks on your fingers, moaning around them like they’re candy.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he pants, his pace brutal, the sound of skin on skin loud enough to drown out your protests. you claw at his back, still muttering about the towels, but it’s incoherent now, lost in the haze of him filling you, stretching you, owning you.

when you come, it’s with a scream, your body shaking, clenching around him so tight he curses, his thrusts stuttering as he follows, spilling inside you with a groaned “fuck, baby.”

you’re trembling, barely holding onto the railing, and he’s not done, his fingers slipping between your legs again, circling your oversensitive clit. “still mad?” he murmurs, smirking, and you hiss, “yes,” but your voice breaks, your legs wobbling as he keeps teasing, pushing you toward another edge.

“liar,” he laughs, kissing you soft now, a contrast to the chaos of before. you’re a wreck, panties tangled around one ankle, shirt rucked up, and he’s still grinning, like he’s won the lottery.

you try to step up, legs shaky, but you stumble, and he catches you, scooping you up bridal-style. “told you the towela were worth it,” he says, carrying you toward the bedroom.

you smack his chest, muttering about the mess on the stairs, but he just kisses your forehead, tossing you onto the bed with a, “round two for the towel tax?”

you’re too spent to argue, pulling him down for more, the receipt forgotten on the stairwell floor, your marriage as chaotic and perfect as ever.

[potatobugxo]

Can you do some headcanons on how you think the Tuplar crew ( From Mouthwashing) would react when you (as their s/o) tell them that you’re horny (you could also do this vice versa)

I can absolutely do that!

reader is gn!

warning: NSFW themes, and Jimmy

🤍Curly🤍

-when you tell him that you're horny: he'd get a bit flustered at first, and then suggest the two of you take this to either of your sleeping quarters. once the door is locked he'll gently press himself against you and ask, "how would you like it, love?" Whether he's in the mood or not he will make sure you're needs completely and utterly satisfied

-how he tells you he's horny: whether you are alone or around the other crew members, curly will gently stroke his thumb over the top of your hand in slow, intimate circles. that became the telltale sign he wants to get intimate with you without saying it outright. then once you two are alone he'll capture your lips with his and rub his hands up and down your sides to show you how much he needs you.

💚Jimmy💚

-when you tell him that you're horny: he'll look at you, eyes raking up and down your body for a long moment before he says a simple "same", and then proceeds to drag you off to the nearest closet or wherever the two of you can get into each other's pants without anyone else seeing (this man is chronically horny let's face it)

-how he tells you that he's horny: Jimmy will grab you out of nowhere and start grinding against you, breathing against your neck as he holds you close to him. "Need you, right fucking now", he'd mutter into your ear. There is no subtly with this man fr

💙Anya💙

-when you tell her that you're horny: Anya's face will turn bright red, and shell look away bashfully for a moment, covering the side of her face before saying, "would you like to go somewhere more... Private for this?" After you two are alone, she'll probably go down on you, eager to satiate her partner's needs

-how she tells you that she's horny: you will be able to tell whenever Anya starts fidgeting in her seat, clamping her legs closed and casting you those big doe eyes of hers beneath heavy eyelids. it will be subtle, until you're finally alone and she grasps onto your hand and says, "um... Would it be alright if we could... You know... Only if you want to of course..."

🩷Daisuke🩷

-when you tell him that you're horny: he'll be caught off guard for a moment, before saying "OH! you are? okay! me too! come on let's go!" (Bro wastes no time lmaoo) once you're alone he'll start doing whatever you want/need him to do, he's very submissive and desperate to please you

-how he tells you that he's horny: daisuke will become the NEEDIEST human being on the planet. whiny too. he'll try and be subtle about it and flirt with you at first but kind of fail miserably. "y/n you look so so so totally pretty right now... oh, man, is it getting hot in here? is anyone else hot?" if you don't catch on or reciprocate right away he'll just start attacking you with hugs and sloppy kisses trying to get your affection in return

💛swansea💛

-when you tell him that you're horny: bro will look at you a bit wide eyed at first and then chuckle to himself. "gettin' all needy for an old geezer like me? guess I could take the load off of ya..."

how he tells you that he's horny: swansea rarely ever gets horny, bc y'know, his age and all, but the few times he is in the mood, he'll try and brush it off so as to not pester you with it, but will eventually cave in and tell you he needs to be with you, and you're happy to oblige

[wrxangel]

Hello :)

Could I request the Kamaboko trio with a Hashira reader the view as a mother. They follow her around like a baby duck and seek her attention and approval

They’re just babies 😔 they need a nice hug and a good meal

Our Dear Sensei (Kamaboko Trio)

fem reader

a/n: haven't written for these guys in a HOT minute!!

Want to get tagged? Fill out this form: ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡

The wind whispered through the trees as you walked along the dirt path leading back to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. The sky was a soft lavender hue, the first stars beginning to twinkle above. It had been a long mission, but at least it had ended in victory.

You barely made it past the first torii gate when you heard it—a rustling, then hurried footsteps.

“Y/n-sensei!”

Three voices, in unison, calling out to you.

You didn’t even have time to turn before a weight slammed into your side. Tanjiro, ever so gentle despite his strength, buried his face in your shoulder. His breath hitched, relief clear in the way his hands clutched your haori.

“You’re back,” he murmured. “We were so worried.”

A second body crashed into your other side, significantly less gentle.

“Where the hell were you?! We’ve been starving without you!” Inosuke’s voice was loud, muffled only slightly by the way his forehead was pressed into your shoulder. “These idiots didn’t let me run into the mountains to find you!”

And then, Zenitsu. Clinging to your arm like a desperate child, his wails loud enough to alert the entire estate.

“Y-Y/n-sensei! You can’t just go off on dangerous missions without us! What if something happened to you?! Who would cook for us?! Who would make sure Inosuke doesn’t punch a Hashira in the face?! Who would protect us?!”

You sighed, though your lips curled into a fond smile. These three were more than just your students. Somewhere along the line, they had become your ducklings, following you around wherever you went, seeking your approval, your presence.

With a chuckle, you ruffled their hair one by one.

“I missed you too,” you admitted. “And I’m fine. You know I’m a Hashira, right? It’ll take more than a few demons to take me down.”

“B-But still!” Zenitsu sniffled.

“Enough whining,” Inosuke grumbled, though he was still very much glued to your side. “She’s back, and now she can feed us!”

Tanjiro laughed softly, finally pulling back, though his hands still clutched your sleeve. “Are you hungry too, Y/n-sensei? You must be exhausted.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “I could use a meal. How about we all eat together? My treat.”

Zenitsu gasped, tears sparkling in his eyes. “I knew it! You do love us! You do care!”

Inosuke pumped a fist into the air. “FOOOOD! Finally!”

Tanjiro’s smile was radiant, his exhaustion melting into quiet happiness. “Let’s go. I’ll help cook.”

And just like that, the three of them trailed behind you, sticking close like ducklings to their mother.

You couldn’t help but feel warm at the sight.

Yes, they were warriors.

Yes, they were strong.

But at the end of the day, they were still just kids.

And you would protect them, feed them, and care for them as long as they needed you to.

The kitchen at headquarters was already warm when you arrived, and despite their exhaustion, all three boys eagerly helped prepare the meal.

Tanjiro, ever reliable, was already washing rice and cutting vegetables. Zenitsu grumbled about being forced to help, but his hands moved skillfully as he worked on seasoning the fish. Inosuke, surprisingly, listened to directions—for the most part. He still insisted on “hunting” ingredients, which really just meant charging into the pantry and coming back with an entire bag of flour like it was a prized kill.

“Y/n-sensei! Look! I got this myself! Now make something good with it!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Inosuke, put that back. We don’t need flour for-”

“Don’t waste my bounty!”

Zenitsu groaned. “You absolute barbarian! You can’t just bring random things and expect them to work in the meal!”

“Yes, I can! And Y/n-sensei is the best! She can cook anything!”

You sighed but patted Inosuke’s head, making him freeze in place before puffing up proudly. “I appreciate the enthusiasm. How about next time we bake something?”

The wild boar boy nodded sagely. “Hmph. Fine. But only because you said so.”

Dinner was simple. grilled fish, miso soup, fresh rice, and vegetables. Nothing fancy, but by the way the three of them practically inhaled their portions, you would have thought it was a feast.

Zenitsu let out a dramatic sigh, clutching his stomach. “I could cry. This is the best meal I’ve had in forever.”

Tanjiro, cheeks slightly puffed with rice, nodded in agreement. “It’s really good, Y/n-sensei. Thank you.”

Inosuke, on his third serving, was too busy stuffing his face to respond verbally. Instead, he let out a pleased grunt.

You shook your head fondly. “Honestly, what would you three do without me?”

Zenitsu gasped. “Perish.”

Tanjiro coughed, looking embarrassed. “I’d… probably manage.”

Inosuke shrugged. “I’d be fine, obviously. But if you want to keep cooking for me, I won’t stop you.”

You smiled, gathering their empty bowls and ruffling their hair once more. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you three, huh?”

Zenitsu immediately melted into your touch. “Yes, please.”

Tanjiro laughed sheepishly. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Inosuke let out a grunt, but you caught the way his lips twitched upward.

You sighed, shaking your head. “What a handful.”

But they were your handful. And you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[sinfulwrites]

Their Favorite Sex Positions

Hello hello~ I was scrolling my dash and came across @missjellyhead and her post on the same topic and wanted to write my own with my faves... Give their post some love! I messaged them for permission, but I'm not sure if they're active lately....

I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing again. Please accept this small drabble!

Enjoy!

NSFW warning.

Michael Myers: Michael is prone to having sex wherever he is. Why waste time going to the bedroom when he could fuck you now against the wall? Michael can hold you up effortlessly, so if your legs are getting tired, he will simply scoop up your legs and continue fucking you. If a table is nearby, Michael will bend you over it and fuck you from behind. If there’s anything on those tables, they will be rocked off by the strength of his hips. If you are in bed, though, he is still inclined to fuck you from behind. He feels more comfortable taking his mask off and biting on your shoulders when you can’t see his face.

Jason Voorhees: Sex is a sacred thing to Jason. His beliefs are rather traditional, and as such, his preference is missionary. In the bed, in a dark room where he can be comfortable taking his mask off and lavishing you with kisses. Jason is not opposed to other positions, but his go-to will always be missionary. In his mind, doggy style is the dirtiest.

Thomas Hewitt: Thomas was raised in a traditional home. He was taught that sex was purely for making a baby, and it would be done in missionary under the blankets. Meeting you and starting a sexual relationship had changed his views on the matter, but he is still inclined to fuck you in missionary. He loves the closeness, seeing the faces you made in response to what he did to you, and of course being able to kiss you. In the early mornings before his work, Thomas liked to pull you close against him and have some slow morning sex. Spooning you allows him to keep you even closer than missionary can, and allows him to have a shameless grab at your chest. There has also been more than one occasion of you two being outside the home getting in a quickie in Thomas’s lap. Riding him is a treat to him, as he has an obligation to himself to make you feel good. Knowing you want him to feel good gets him all emotional afterwards. Expect a tight hug and tons of kisses.

Asa Emory: When Asa fucks, he fucks hard. If the bed isn’t slamming into the wall, he’s not doing it right. Doggy style gives him the freedom to pound into you without your hips and thighs restricting him. His preference for anal also makes it even more appealing. Doing it from behind also gives him the freedom to slap your ass and yank your hair back to whisper in your ear about how much of a slut you are. Watching your face as he fucks you is also ideal, however, so if he fucks you from the front he shoves your knees into your chest to give himself complete access to slam his hips into you. He will use rope to tie your legs where he wants them so he can leave his hands free to choke you as his cock knocks the wind out of you. We would be here all day if we brought up all his bonds and sex chairs…

Jesse Cromeans: Jesse loves to see the faces you make as his cock slides in and out of you. He especially loves to make you see yourself with his mask. Spreading your legs and fucking you on your back is a safe position for him, but it is far from the only way he enjoys you. His favorite is fucking you in front of his giant mirrors. Jesse will bend you over on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind so he can pull your hair and make you watch in the mirror as his hips slam against your ass. He shamelessly enjoys being ridden and will happily prop himself up on his pillows and let you ride away. He loves to film you riding his cock, and he will definitely have you watch the tape with him later. Other days, he will have you ride in reverse to watch it in his mirrors. In the back of his car, he loves to make you ride him until the car is rocking. 

[luvvcho]

❅・WHISPER OF THE HEART

SYNOPSIS — The three times he tries to tell you, and the one time he actually does.

WC — (4k)

CONTENT: SFW, suggestiveness, angst , hurt/comfort, family issues/neglect, unrequited love (or so they think), alcohol/being drunk, self-worth issues/insecurity, mild jealousy, late-night drives & emotional talks, emotional repression, gojo deserves sleep but never gets it™, soft!gojo but he’s suffering in silence, gojo is really down bad.

a/n: highkey wrote this half asleep... but anyway i finished this faster than i thought! comment if you wanna be added to the taglist (just found out what this is lol) for this series :p m. list | < prev | next >

Somewhere near Tokyo, Japan 2009

Gojo lets the steering wheel glide through his fingers before tightening his grip on the expensive leather again. His palms are sweaty, his knuckles white, and the three hours of sleep he got the night before are finally catching up to him, creeping into the edges of his vision like static.

The plan for tonight had been simple: finish up paperwork at his father’s company, where he had been offered forced to start training straight out of high school. Then, he’d head home, maybe work out, maybe waste time bothering Suguru over the phone before eventually crashing. A mindless, predictable routine.

Instead, he finds himself almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god knows where.

His foot eases off the gas slightly as he glances around, taking in the unfamiliar roads lined with trees and dim streetlights, their glow barely enough to cut through the darkness. The city was nowhere in sight. There were no high-rises, no neon billboards, no distant hum of traffic. Just the low rumble of his own engine and the occasional flicker of headlights from a passing car.

He exhales sharply, rubbing at his tired eyes with one hand while keeping the other steady on the wheel.

What the hell was he even doing out here?

The truth settles in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. He didn’t want to drive this far. He didn’t want to end up here at all. But somehow, without thinking, he had ended up exactly where he always does when everything feels too much— wherever you are. Gojo got the call just as he was wrapping up work. You were drunk. Alone. Over an hour away from the city at some stupid college party in an abandoned warehouse.

He was exhausted. Three hours of sleep deep into a week where everything felt like too much. His head hurt from staring at contracts and numbers he didn’t care about, and honestly, the only thing getting him through the evening had been the promise of leftover Chinese food waiting for him in his fridge.

But when you called, he came. Right?

Even if his body screamed at him to go home. Even if he knew he shouldn’t always make it this easy for you. Even if the rational part of his brain told him that one day, this whole thing, his stupid highschool crush that never seemed to go away, was going to wreck him.

Still, he grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove.

And now, almost an hour outside of Tokyo, in the middle of god-knows-where, he’s gripping the wheel with sweaty palms and trying not to let exhaustion drag him under.

He should be annoyed. Wants to be annoyed.

But all he can think about is you waiting, unsteady, needing him. And that, somehow, is enough to keep his foot pressed firm against the gas.

As he rounds the corner onto a dimly lit street, he hears it before he sees it. The deep bass of the music rattling the ground beneath his feet, the drunken laughter and shouts of students spilling out into the night.

His jaw tightens as he follows the noise, pulling up outside the warehouse. A mess of people lingers near the entrance, bodies swaying in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The place reeks of bad decisions and even worse company. And then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the curb, a little hunched over, your arms wrapped loosely around your knees. The party continues on behind you, people laughing, stumbling, yelling. But you’re separate from all of it.

For a second, relief washes over him. You’re safe. You’re not lost in that chaotic mess of bodies, not pressed against some guy who doesn’t know when to back off. You’re here. He exhales, tension leaving his shoulders. But then you look up.

Your tear-stained eyes meet his, mascara smudged at the corners, eyeliner streaking down your cheeks.

He steps out, shutting the door behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolls over with a smirk. “Hey, gorgeous.”

You blink sluggishly at him before a slow, sleepy smile spreads across your lips. “Hi…” you mumble, then suddenly, as if remembering something, you groan and cover your face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not gorgeous right now.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh, crouching in front of you. “Bit late for that.”

You peek through your fingers, pout deepening. “Y’always see me like this.”

“Like what?” He tilts his head, playing dumb.

“Pathetic.”

Before he can respond, you push yourself to your feet. Not steadily, not gracefully, but you manage. Sort of? You take one step forward, then another, before your balance wavers.

Gojo moves to catch you, but you beat him to it, stumbling straight into him, arms wrapping lazily around his middle.

He stiffens for half a second.

Because shit.

Your dress clings to you, thin and weightless, like it was made to drive him insane. Not because he’s just noticing, but because he’s spent the last four years trying not to. But now, with you pressed up against him, with your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, with the scent of whatever sweet perfume you’re wearing clouding his already exhausted brain.

God.

You sigh against his chest, voice muffled. “Can’t believe you actually came.”

Gojo blinks. Focuses. Ignores the way his hands instinctively settle at your waist. “Yeah, well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I am at your beck and call”

You lean back just enough to look up at him, blinking slowly like it takes effort.

“Alright, princess,” he says, “Think you can walk the rest of the way, or am I carrying you?”

You scoff, swaying slightly. “I can walk.”

“Right. Cuz that little show just now was real convincing.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then take one defiant step forward before immediately tripping over… nothing??

Gojo catches your wrist with ease, smirking.

And despite your protests, you let him guide you, his fingers firm and steady around yours. He opens the car door, steadying you as you lower yourself into the back seat. You move sluggishly, like even the smallest effort is too much, and he frowns as he reaches over to buckle you in. Your purse gets placed beside you before he shuts the door and circles around to his side, slipping into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

The engine hums to life, but for a second, he doesn’t move.

His gaze lingers on you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lashes heavy, lips slightly parted, your breath fogging up the glass. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, something unspoken settling in his chest before he shakes it off and shifts the car into reverse, backing away from the warehouse.

You’ve never been like this before.

Sure, he’s seen you tipsy; laughing a little louder, cheeks pink with warmth, words spilling out without a filter. But this? This is different. This is the first time you’ve ever let yourself fall this far.

The GPS screen glows softly as he punches in your address, the familiar route flashing across the screen. – ETA: 1:03

He exhales, rolling his shoulders as he glances at you again.

“Don’t throw up in my car, please.”

You hum in response, eyes barely cracking open. “M’not gonna,” you mumble, but your voice wobbles, breaking slightly at the end.

He sighs, shaking his head. “Just… if you do feel sick, tell me, alright?”

You mumble something incoherent, and he decides to take it as a yes.

The road stretches out ahead of him, empty and quiet. He tightens his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes forward.

Because if he looks at you too long, if he lets himself really think about how easily you trust him, how you always call him when you need someone, he’s going to lose the battle he’s been fighting for years.

“So,” he says, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “We gonna talk about why you’ve been crying?”

You shift against the seat, barely opening your eyes. “Can’t,” you mumble. “Too embarrassing.”

Gojo snorts. “C’mon. I’ve known you since we were fourteen. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you do worse.”

You hum, considering it, as the car smoothly merges onto the highway. The dim lights shrink behind you, fading into the distance, leaving only the soft glow of passing streetlights and the rhythmic sound of tires against pavement.

For a while, you don’t say anything, and Gojo doesn’t push. He just lets the silence stretch, waiting.

“Remember that guy I told you about?”

He gulps. “The one in your language seminar?”

“Yeah.” He already doesn’t like where this is going.

You continue, voice softer now, like saying it out loud makes it more real. “He was there tonight. He invited me, actually.”

Gojo’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles paling.

“I thought maybe… I dunno.” Your voice is slightly more steady now. “I thought something was there between us.”

His jaw clenches. His grip on the wheel tightens. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “And?”

Your breath hitches slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is quieter. “And I tried to kiss him.”

Gojo freezes, his gaze flickering back to you in the mirror.

His heart stalls for half a second before it kicks back in, pounding hard against his ribs. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

You keep going, oblivious to the way his grip on the steering wheel turns bone-white.

“But he pulled away,” you admit. “Said he doesn’t… doesn’t like kissing.” You scoff, shaking your head. “And I believed him. I told him it was fine, that we could still be friends.”

Gojo exhales slowly through his nose, forcing his expression to stay neutral. Fucking idiot, he thinks.

He should say something. He wants to say something. But you’re still talking.

“He said he’d be back. Told me to wait.” Your voice wavers, and he knows what’s coming before you even say it.

“He never came back,” you slur. “So I went looking for him.”

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer ticks a little higher than it should. He forces himself to ease off, fingers aching from how tight he’s gripping the wheel.

“And?” he asks, voice low, strained.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Found him making out with some girl in the back.”

Silence.

Gojo breathes in slow, exhales through his nose. He should say something, anything. He should tell you that guy’s a fucking idiot, tell you that you deserve better, tell you that you should’ve never wasted your time on him.

Instead, what comes out is:

“What a dumbass.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s empty, hollow. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”

Gojo risks a glance in the rearview mirror. You’re staring out the window, fingers absently picking at the hem of your dress, your shoulders curled inward like you’re trying to disappear.

And fuck.

He hates this. Hates that he wasn’t there to stop it from happening, hates that he has to sit here and listen to you talk about someone else like this. Hates that you kissed him (or tried to). Hates that some guy got to have that moment, got to see the way you look just before a kiss, got to be the one you wanted tonight, even just for a second.

Most of all, he hates that you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.

His throat tightens, his chest burning, aching, twisting in ways he doesn’t know how to fix.

He should’ve been the one. “Toru.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, sharp but fragile, like you’re barely holding yourself together.

His heart lurches at the sound. Because it’s you, because it’s the nickname only you call him.

But then you sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold window. “You’re a guy, right?”

Gojo snorts, the tension in his chest easing just enough for him to fall back into his usual teasing. “Last I checked.”

“Then tell me.” Your voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. You shift slightly, facing him from the back seat, eyes hazy but still searching. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh. “Why has no one ever liked me?”

His throat goes dry.

“Not once,” you continue. “No guys in high school ever asked me out. The ones I liked never liked me back. And now this?” You gesture vaguely, frustration laced in your voice. “I just don’t get it. What is it about me that’s so… unloveable?”

Gojo’s entire body locks up.

Because.. are you serious?

You, who he has spent the last four years trying not to love too much, not to touch too long, not to stare at like you hung the damn moon— you actually think that?

His fingers tighten so hard around the wheel he thinks he might snap it in half.

“What kind of dumbass logic is that?” he mutters.

You frown, shoulders curling inward. “It’s not dumbass logic, Satoru, it’s just—”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice sharper than he intended. His jaw clenches as he forces himself to take a breath. “You don’t get to say that.”

Your lips press together, confused, vulnerable in a way that makes his chest ache.

Gojo doesn’t know how to do this. He doesn’t know how to tell you the truth without telling you. So he exhales, trying to steady himself, trying to be careful with the words he chooses next.

“You ever think,” he starts, voice quieter now, steadier, gentler, “that maybe it’s not you that’s the problem?”

You blink at him through the mirror. “Then what is it?”

Gojo grips the wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

It’s not that no one likes you, he wants to say. You just keep liking the wrong guy.

But instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders like he can shake the weight off. Keeps his gaze fixed on the road. Forces a smirk.

“I dunno,” he lies, voice light, easy. “Maybe guys are just fucking stupid.”

You huff out a small laugh, but it’s tired, empty. “Guess so.”

And Gojo doesn’t say anything else. Because if he does, if he so much as breathes the wrong way, he’s afraid the words he’s been swallowing for four years might just slip out.

“It’s just…” You hesitate, fingers curling in your lap. “No, never mind.”

Gojo sighs, glancing at you through the mirror. “Nope. Not letting you do that. Tell me.”

You exhale, rolling your head against the window, staring out at the passing lights. “You wouldn’t get it,” you mumble. “You’ve had a girlfriend before. Everyone I know has been in a relationship at least once.”

He flinches at the reminder. The girl he dated in senior year (if you could even call it that). A little over a month, barely anything. He never liked her much, never felt the way he should have. Maybe because no matter how hard he tried, she wasn’t you.

“I just don’t know why I can’t get anyone to like me,” you admit, voice quieter now, like you’re talking more to yourself than to him. “Like, what am I doing wrong?”

Gojo exhales, staring at the road ahead. And before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it—

“You know I love you, right?”

Silence. Then, a small, sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “You’re my best friend.”

He forces himself to chuckle, to keep his voice light. “Your bestest friend.”

You hum in agreement, stretching slightly before slumping deeper into the seat. A second passes, then another, and when Gojo glances at the mirror again, your eyes are drooping, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He waits for you to say something else, but instead, you sigh, shifting until your head rests against the window.

“…What were we talking about again?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

“Nothing important,” Gojo lets out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Go to sleep, princess, I’ll wake you up when we’re home.”

You hum once more, barely conscious now, and within seconds, your breathing evens out.

It’s a little past one when Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment building. The streets are quiet now, the world settled into a lull, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flicker of a passing car.

He shifts the car into park and exhales, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. You’re curled up against the window, lips slightly parted, face relaxed in the soft glow of the streetlights. Peaceful. Innocent. Completely unaware of the way he’s been drowning in his own thoughts for the past hour.

Gojo drums his fingers against the steering wheel before turning in his seat, reaching back to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice softer than usual. “We’re here.” 

You stir slightly but don’t wake.

He tries again, fingers brushing against your cheek this time. “C’mon, I know you’re tired, but I’m not carrying you all the way upstairs.”

You groan, turning away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

He huffs, shaking his head with a smirk before unbuckling your seatbelt for you. “Alright, princess, up you go.”

Reluctantly, you blink your eyes open, slow and sluggish. “Wha’ time is it?” you mumble.

“Too late for you to still be passed out in my car,” he teases. “Let’s go.”

You manage to get out, swaying slightly the moment your feet hit the pavement. Without thinking, Gojo’s hand finds the small of your back, steadying you before you can tip over completely.

“Yeah, no,” he mutters, tightening his grip. “You’re gonna break something if I let you go up alone.”

You don’t argue, just let him guide you into the building, down the quiet hallway to your apartment. When you finally reach your door, you fumble for your keys, missing the lock twice before Gojo sighs and takes them from your hand, slotting the key in effortlessly.

You step inside, blinking sleepily, and Gojo lingers at the threshold.

“You got it from here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

You pause, looking over your shoulder at him. “Wait for me?”

His brows lift slightly. “You sure you don’t just want to pass out in your dress?”

You glare at him, well, as much as you can in your drunken haze, before kicking off your shoes and stumbling toward your closet. “Give me five minutes,” you mumble, already pulling out a set of pajamas.

Gojo sighs but steps inside, leaning against the wall just outside your bedroom door as you disappear inside. He hears the soft rustling of fabric, the muffled sounds of you grumbling under your breath, the faint thud of something hitting the floor.

A few minutes later, you shuffle back out, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, eyes barely open.

He pushes off the wall, stepping toward you. “Alright, come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to the edge of your mattress. You sit down, and before you can do much else, he’s tugging the blankets over you, tucking you in with practiced ease.

Just as he turns to leave, your fingers weakly grab at his sleeve.

“Toru,” you mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

He stills, glancing down at you. “Yeah?”

You blink up at him, cheeks slightly flushed, though he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or exhaustion. “Forgot to take my makeup off.”

Gojo exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

He leaves for a moment, disappearing into your bathroom before returning with a makeup wipe. He kneels beside your bed, pulling you up slightly to sit, and tilts your chin with a gentle touch.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You obey without question, too tired to protest. His fingers brush against your cheek as he wipes away the remnants of mascara and foundation, careful, steady. He’s never done this before, but somehow, he knows exactly how to be gentle with you.

He watches as the tension in your face fades, as your breathing evens out under his touch. He lingers, just for a second longer than necessary, before finally tossing the wipe aside.

“There,” he mutters. “All clean.”

Your eyes flutter open slightly, a lazy, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Toru.”

He swallows, something warm and aching curling in his chest.

“…Yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “Anytime.”

He stands to leave, but your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay?” you ask softly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Gojo exhales, rubbing a tired hand over his face. For a second, he hesitates, then, he drops onto the floor beside your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep.”

And for the first time all night, you listen to him.

The next morning, you wake up to a dull, throbbing headache and the faint taste of regret lingering on your tongue. The room is dim, soft morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and for a moment, everything feels disoriented. Until you shift slightly and feel the warmth of a blanket tucked snugly around you.

Blinking against the ache behind your eyes, you turn your head and freeze.

Gojo is asleep on the floor, his long limbs sprawled out awkwardly, his head resting at the foot of your bed. His white hair is tousled, one arm draped lazily over his face, and his breathing is slow, even, completely at peace.

Your heart clenches, but before you can process why, a particularly sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull, and you let out a quiet groan.

At the sound, Gojo stirs, blinking blearily up at you before stretching with a lazy yawn. “Morning, sunshine,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you croak, burying your face into your pillow. “Why are you on the floor?”

Gojo pushes himself up with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Because someone wouldn’t let me leave,” he teases, ruffling his hair. “Which, by the way, you owe me for. My back is killing me.”

You groan again, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “Ugh. Please tell me I didn’t do anything too embarrassing last night.”

Gojo pauses for half a second.

He remembers it all. The way you clung to him outside the party, the way you called yourself unloveable, the way you looked up at him through tired, glossy eyes and told him you loved him— as a friend.

But you don’t remember.

And for the first time in his life, Gojo is glad you don’t.

“Nah,” he lies smoothly, standing up and stretching. “You were a total angel.”

You squint at him. “You’re lying.”

He grins. “Guess you’ll never know.”

You groan, flopping dramatically back onto your pillows. “You’re the worst.”

Gojo snorts. “And yet, I’m the one getting you water and headache meds.”

That catches your attention. You peek up at him, skeptical. “You’re actually taking care of me?”

He places a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “What, like I wouldn’t?”

You narrow your eyes. “I feel like this is a trap.”

He laughs, already making his way to the kitchen. “Shut up and let me be a good friend for once.”

A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a couple of pills, setting them down on your nightstand. You mumble a half-hearted thanks before sitting up, wincing as you swallow them down.

Gojo watches, hands on his hips, then huffs dramatically. “Alright, move over.”

You blink at him. “Huh?”

He gestures toward the bed. “Move. I spent the night on the floor like a peasant. I’m reclaiming my dignity.”

You laugh, groggy but amused, before shuffling over to make space. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m shoving you off.”

Gojo flops onto the mattress beside you with a relieved sigh, settling into your pillows like he belongs there. “Please, I am an excellent bedmate.”

You roll your eyes but don’t protest when he drapes an arm over his face, already half-asleep again.

And as your headache fades and sleep starts to pull you under again, you don’t think too much about how comfortable this feels.

But Gojo does. And he wonders how much longer he can pretend this is enough.

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[gilverrwrites]

idk if this is too weird or dark but I’ve been thinking about Arkham Knight Jason and Slade ruining Jason’s replacement by brainwashing her or feeding her Ivy’s aphrodisiacs, so every time one of them walks in the room, you’re ready to please them. You learn to automatically open your legs or get on your knees when you hear heavy boots approaching wherever Jason’s keeping you. Jason films a lot of it too, like when Slade will find a spot on the floor and you’ll immediately move to straddle him, grinding a little as you lean down to suck the old man’s tongue.

Related posts: one, two, three, and four.

WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, brainwashing, corruption, degradation, spit. Just, these two should come with one of those toxic waste symbols on their heads.

Oooohhhhhhhhh, Ivy’s aphrodisiacs but not telling/gaslighting you into believing it's all on you, you just want them so fucking bad. You're lucky to have them to take care of you. Your body isn't betraying you, it just knows better. It's your base instincts telling you you're not meant for heroism, you're meant for fucking these nasty, dirty men.

That's why you feel so flushed whenever they're in the same room as you, that's why you can't help opening your legs and bucking your hips when they look your way, that's why just the graze of their gloved fingers on your cheek makes you cry in frustration, makes you beg for more.

"You should be so fucking grateful, letting you ride our dicks." Jason likes to taunt, with his face buried in your bouncing tits, finger in the flesh of your hips. "Where would you be without us? Still at Batman's beck and call. Waste of a perfectly good slut."

There was a time when you would kick and scream whenever you were even left alone with Slade. He used to tease you, threatening to bind and gag you, knowing full well he much preferred the thrill of the fight, preferred taming you the hard way. Now, now he just whistles and you're at his feet like a good little bitch in heat.

"I don't think a minute goes by where you‘re not thinking about this cock being inside you. Is that right?" He'll coo as he holds you steady, cock pulsing in the back of your throat, making sure you choke on him until tears are streaming down your pretty face. When he finally lets you go, you know to say 'Yes, sir." If you want him to keep using you.

Also, anon, I gotta say, the image of Jason filming while you grind in Slade, sucking his tongue, fingering his silver chest hair, just being a good girl for that filthy old man is sending me and has been since I read this like WHAT.

Jason jacking off to the whole display, spitting the vilest shit while you grind a stain into Slade's pant leg with your disgustingly wet pussy. “You like that, you needy whore? Old mans barely even touched you and you're creaming all over him.

Feels good, right? Letting your body do what it wants, take what it needs?

Oh just you wait ‘til I get my hands on you baby, you're not gonna know a word that isn't ‘fuck’ and ‘please’ by the time I'm done.”

Slade doesn't even care when Jason calls him an ‘old man’, not when you're sitting pretty, drooling on his fingers and begging for a good fuck.

"You look so good getting fucked like that, pretty girl." "She feels fucking good, you like that don't ya?" "Yeah! Yeahyeahyeah yeah, please don't stop." "Oh, don't worry, you nasty slut, I'm not stopping anytime soon." "Now smile for the camera bat-brat, this is going out to all of Gotham. Say 'Hi Batman!' Ha, blow him a big kiss baby."

And you're so fucking out of it from the pheromones or just, the euphoria of being bent and twisted and praised and degraded and railed just right, or whatever reason, that you do exactly that; With Jason's fist in your hair, his spit on your face, a smile on your lips. You flutter your lashes, waving limply into the lens as you say 'H-hi Batman! MuWAH!'

Shit, what if when they're not around they have all the footage Jason took playing on a loop wherever they're holding you. Intermitted with clip/photos of you pre-capture To remind you of how far you've fallen.

[j-sunct]

lose my breath @ HYUNJIN & CHAN

𓂃 if hyunjin hadn't chosen such a boring movie, y/n wouldn't have fingers in her pussy, much less bangchan's dick in her mouth.

❀ chanjinㅤㅤㅤ ' ㅤㅤㅤfem!reader

smutㅤ  ㅤ╱ㅤ    👤ㅤ   minors do not interact

⋆ war'ningsㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤthreesome, chan and hyunjin have a stable relationship with reader, fingering, blowjob, dirty talk, teasing, exhibitionism.

s/n, bangchan and hyunjin had a kind of itinerary for saturdays. they would ALWAYS go see movies together, both to strengthen their relationship since, with the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, they actually ended up forgetting about each other.

today was another one of those movie sessions; popcorn made, and hyunjin was choosing the movie, since this week was his turn.

“i think i found it!" hyun shouted from the living room, ready to press play. s/n returned to the kitchen with a bucket of popcorn, while chan tried to balance three glasses of soda

“wich movie is that?" s/n asked as she sat in the middle of the couch, with the popcorn bowl between her legs.

“honestly, i don't know. i just saw the cover and found it a little interesting.” hwang confessed, leaning over to grab a portion of the popcorn.

meanwhile, bangchan seemed very focused on the movie, "i really hope this movie is good, hyunjin. don't waste our precious time.” he stated, chuckling lightly. not that the movie being bad was a problem, they had the whole weekend to enjoy it.

jinnie joined in the laughter, as well as y/n. “i promise, hyung, that i won't waste our saturday. this movie has potential, trust me." he gave a thumbs up, an attempt to sound confident.

“so, let's get started!” s/n said and finally, played the movie.

—

unfortunately, bangchan was right about his opinion of the movie — that's what hyunjin thought, sighing lightly. he didn't want to show that he was completely bored with it.

the romance was poorly developed, scenes so cliché that they made him roll his eyes. at first, he didn't imagine it was a romance film, but it was. this is like a moral lesson "kids, always read the synopsis before choosing something!”

it really did seem boring until hyunjin noticed how the popcorn bucket was positioned on y/n’s legs. it was like a light bulb went off over his head. why not a fuck?

first of all, he checked her and bangchan's attention... both completely focused on the movie. perfect.

playing innocent, he reached out to "grab some popcorn from the bowl", but no. his hand rested under y/n's crotch, without even any provocation or anything like that.

her eyes widened before slowly drifting towards where hyun's hand was positioned. shit. could he be a little less of a pervert? even over her shorts, his fingertips caused a slight friction that made her sigh. the need to get wet was tempting.

hyunjin's thin fingers wandered over y/n's clothes, now definitely applying a little pressure. it was inevitable for her not to feel her pussy contract a little and the liquid flow out consequently.

bangchan was right there, he could see her at any moment, calling her a "whore" for letting herself be touched so easily... but what could she do? she really wanted to be hyunjin's whore, let him use her for free, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

it was so good, the feeling of the juices starting to run from y/n's little hole, hyunjin's fingers stimulating her clitoris that, even over so many layers of clothing, was capable of making her lose focus of the film.

little by little, hyunjin brought his mouth closer to y/n's ear, just to whisper. “it's good, isn't it? the feeling of knowing you could get caught at any moment.” he laughed, softly. without drawing bangchan's attention. “like, chan can look over at any moment, see you practically begging for dick and just, fuck you. use you.” he continued laughing until he stopped moving his hand and walked away completely.

y/n mumbled in denial, the feeling was too good to be abandoned. why did hyunjin stop?

“chris, i think it's time to get this perversion out of our girl.”

bangchan turned around, a smile already plastered on his face. "from the moment she accepted your touches, hyun.”

y/n was in complete shock, maybe even feeling vulnerable, but still completely wet to receive chan and jinnie. “she doesn't even deny it, does you, love?" the older man placed his hand on her chin, forcing her to look at him.

hyunjin approached from behind, placing his hands on her hips. he saw y/n shake her head. so defenseless. taking advantage of the fact that all her attention was on bangchan now, he approached the waistband of her shorts, slowly lowering them. then he removed her panties, which for a moment remained stuck to the cavity, due to her juices. “naughty girl..." he laughed, almost mockingly.

y/n at the same time that she felt exposed, she felt completely excited, wanting to be touched. she grabbed bangchan's shoulders, when she finally felt hyunjin enter two fingers inside.

“ngl... wait…” y/n muttered, digging her nails into chris' shoulder. “i'm tight…” she whispered, more like a moan, as her pussy sent vibrations into hyunjin's hand.

bangchan took advantage of the moment to unbutton his pants, caressing his own volume over his white underwear. some whispers came out of chris' mouth, his dick looked so big. he was excited, it was a fact. a pool of pre-cum covered his underwear, right at the mark of the head of his cock.

y/n can't help but bite her lips, bangchan practically jerking off right in front of her, while hyunjin fingers her. she finally took action, pulling down his underwear until chan's private parts were visible.

“what a little bitch... can't wait to suck my dick, huh?” bangchan held y/n's face, pressing her cheeks into a sort of pout.

“you should know by now, chris. make her suck your fucking dick and make those ridiculous noises.” hyunjin was eagerly searching for her sweet spot, he wanted to make the girl have all the pleasure in the world and he knew that all that dirty talk only excited her even more. her pulsating hole only confirmed that, tightening more and more around the korean's fingers.

hyunjin went in circular movements, working more where y/n was excited, where she moaned and begged for more of him, until he came out with his fingers completely smeared with her juice.

hyun's fingers were coated in y/n's slick arousal as he worked her tight hole, his movements growing more urgent with each passing second. her moans grew louder, that little body trembling in need.

chan took advantage of the moment, guiding her face towards his throbbing cock. "open wide, baby," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "i'm going to feed you my dick."

y/n eagerly parted her lips, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of christopher's cock. she moaned at the taste of his pre-cum, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

bangchan pushed forward, sliding his cock into y/n's warm, wet mouth. she took him deep, her throat contracting around his shaft. channie groaned in pleasure, his hips rocking forward to meet her eager mouth.

hyunjin watched the scene unfold, his own cock throbbing with need. he added a third finger to y/n's pussy, stretching her further. "damn, you're so good taking hyung's dick…" he grunted, his fingers pumping in and out of her slick heat.

her moans vibrated around bangchan's cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. he grabbed a fistful of her hair, guiding her head as he fucked her mouth. "that's it, baby. take my cock like a good little slut."

jinnie could feel y/n's walls fluttering around his fingers, a telltale sign of her impending orgasm. he rubbed her clit with his thumb, pushing her over the edge.

y/n came hard, her pussy gushing around hyunjin's fingers. she moaned around bangchan's cock, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

bangchan couldn't hold back any longer. with a grunt, he pulled out of her mouth and came, his hot seed splattering across her face and tits.

slowly, hyun removed his fingers from inside the girl, seeing all that juice and sticky cum on his hand. he felt a desire to taste her and, for sure, next time, he would suck her pussy.

“you taste very good, honey.” he stated precisely, his tongue around his long, thin fingers, cleaning them thoroughly.

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 34

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- uuhhh ohhhh!🥲 Sorry, can’t hear y’all over my own SCREAMING because my drafts are sooo READY for you lately. I love to read all your comments and messages so much btw! 🩷😤

Billie’s POV

I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the bright rays of sunlight coming in through the little window. To my right, was a passed out Remy, using my arm as a pillow, with the covers all the way up to her neck.

When I finally regained full awake consciousness, my stomach sank.

It was the morning after.

Fuck.

I was supposed to be home before 8pm last night. I promised Ellie.

I quickly, but carefully, got out of bed, cautious not to wake Remy up, and searched all over the place for my phone.

My phone was no where in sight.

I rush to grab my shoes off the floor, and my keys off the nightstand, trying not to waste any more time. I quietly close her bedroom door behind me and leave a note on her fridge, letting her know I went home, and to call me when she wakes up.

If I ever found my phone, I thought.

I immediately race back to my house, cussing myself out while speeding and weaving through cars on the highway, knowing it’s too late either way.

I pull into my garage, running inside the house, probably looking like a hot mess. The only thing I care about is apologizing to Ellie for breaking my promise.

“Ellie?” I look around, my voice echoing through the halls. Not a soul in the living room, not even a sound. No one in the kitchen, no one in the backyard.

I hurry up the stairs, going straight into my room, only to see a ton of clothing items scattered all over my bed, and all over the floor.

“Babe?” I peek around the corner.

“Hey, love.” I see Ellie in the master bathroom, putting a bunch of her things in a huge, reusable bag.

She looks up at me, then back down at her stuff.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I walk in, confused about the mess.

She doesn’t reply, she just gets off the floor and closes the cabinet doors, walking over to my bed. She places the bag next to a large, open suitcase, and begins to fill it with her clothes.

“Ellie, talk to me, why are you packing all your things?” I furrow my brows, freaking out a little bit. This can’t be happening.

She ignores me, walking back and forth from different areas of my room, taking her belongings, and throwing them on the bed.

“Ellie! Stop! Talk to me, please!” I grab her arm, wanting her to just tell me what’s going on.

“I’m done. I’m not doing this with you.” She resisted my pull, “Let go of me! I’m getting my shit and I’m leaving, Billie.”

I let go of her, staring as she walks back into my closet to grab her shoes.

“Ellie, please, I know I didn’t come home in time, but I can explain, just let me tell you-“

She cut me off, turning to face me. “You weren’t just late, Billie, you fucking stayed the night! It’s 10 in the morning!”

“I know, I fell asleep— I swear, I didn’t mean to!”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffs, throwing more things in the suitcase, not bothering to fold any of the clothes before shoving them wherever they fit.

“What do you think happened?” I follow her around.

“If you think I’m really that stupid—“

“Ellie, I swear to you, we just lost track of time! She was completely breaking down, and I just wanted to—“

“You wanted to what? Make her feel better? Take care of her?” She looked furious, her eyes darker than usual, and her brows arched. I can tell she wants to say more, but being hurtful isn’t her style.

“I was comforting her, I was just trying to be a good friend! That’s all it was!” I follow her around as she paces the room.

“She needed me! She’s going through a lot right now, El! I couldn’t just leave her like that. I wanted to wait till she fell asleep first before—” My words came out so fast, hoping she’d believe me.

“I needed you! I’m your girlfriend! Not her!” She raised her voice. “You’re about to leave me for months and all I wanted to do was spend one day with you! Alone, without Remy!”

I ran a hand through my hair, aggressively. “Ellie, stop packing, please!” I stood by her suitcase as she continued to fetch more belongings. “I swear to you, nothing happened! She couldn’t stop crying and—“

She ignored me, picking up her speed.

“Ellie, I’m so sorry that I didn’t come home last night, like I promised. Please, baby, forgive me. It won’t ever happen again!” My heart ached. I could feel myself losing her.

“I stayed up until two o’clock in the morning for you, Billie, I waited for you! You promised me you’d be home last night!”

“I’m sorry, baby! I fucked up—“

“You have no idea how it felt, knowing you— Ugh! Knowing you slept in her bed, and I was here, making up scenarios in my head, thinking of the worst!”

I begin to take things out of her suitcase, desperate to stop her. “Baby, please, just stop packing. Let’s talk about this!”

“No! I’m fucking done, Billie! I can’t take this anymore!” She yells, yanking her clothes out of my hands.

She pointed her dainty, freshly manicured fingers at me, “I’m not going to compete with your friend, I’m just so not that type of girl!”

“Compete with— What are you talking about, Ellie!” I furrow my brows, my arms held out in bafflement, as if I didn’t cause this myself.

“Oh, fucking please, Billie.” She forced the rest of her stuff into the suitcase, struggling to zip it up.

“There’s no comparison, Rem- Fuck! I mean Ellie!”

She rolled her eyes, pointing at me again, shouting, “See! There it is!”

“No— We’re literally talking about Remy right now, that’s the only reason I— God, Ellie! Just please, don’t leave! I’ll do anything! I swear, I didn’t mean to—“

“I’m done! I told you, I’m not doing this anymore!” She refused to listen, putting all of her anger towards shutting the suitcase, and pulling it off the bed, onto the ground for her to roll.

I stood in front of her, walking backwards as she pushed forward, toward the hallway. I shut my bedroom door, standing in front of it.

“Billie, get out of my way! I mean it!” She yelled.

“No.” I supplicated, my eyes fogging up my vision.

“I’m serious, move!”

“Ellie, you can’t just leave like this! We can talk about it!”

She reached for the doorknob before I could block it. I grabbed her arm, trying to keep her from opening it, pushing all of my weight into the door. I began to tear up, feeling hopeless, feeling desperate.

“You have to believe me, baby. Nothing happened! I would never do anything to hurt you!” I shouted, my chest aching.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home, I’m sorry I didn’t call— I honestly don’t even know where my phone is and—“

She stopped, backing away from the door, taking a deep breath.

“Do you have feelings for Remy?” Her voice firm, calmer than before.

I stood still, my insides turning into ice.

“Do you, Billie?” She waited for my answer, her eyes burning holes in mine.

“No.” I lied, my heart pounding out of my chest.

She nodded her head.

I began to walk towards her, thinking she believed me. But I was wrong. God, was I so wrong.

She pulled my phone out of her back pocket. My blood ran cold, knowing exactly what this was all about.

“You lied to me.” Her voice was soft as she burst into tears.

“No, Ellie, baby—“ I panicked, sprinting into damage control mode. “Don’t cry, please.” I begged, as tears streamed out of my own eyes.

She handed me the phone. “It was still in my fanny pack after our hike. You forgot it.”

She opened it and showed me a message thread between Finneas and I, from a week ago. I told him all about Remy and I making up. We talked about my feelings for her and how they aren’t going away. About how I couldn’t stop comparing Remy and Ellie to each other. About how awful I felt, how horrible it was that I couldn’t shake those feelings.

She crossed her arms, dissolving into a puddle of tears. She stood by my bed, weeping into her hands, feeling defeated.

She knew. She wanted to see if I would lie to her.

I want to run over to her, hug her, and make her feel okay again. But, how could I do that when I’m the one who caused her so much pain.

[plus-size-reader]

Meeting the Family

Foggy Nelson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1821 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Foggy asking Matt about you, his hot foster sister who comes to bring them some take-out one night.

—————————————————————————————————

“Yeah, we’re here. Just park wherever. I’ll buzz you in, it’s 312”

Matt’s voice mindlessly filled his apartment as he spoke into his phone, currently pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

He had been on the phone for about six minutes now, and right about the time it started to sound like plans were being made, that was when Foggy’s interest peaked.

After all, he lived in their shared place too and whatever was going on was bound to involve him in what seemed like a matter of minutes.

“Whose on the phone?” He whispered, getting quickly waved off as Matt focused on the task at hand. Whoever had called seemed to be still chatting away which only interested Foggy further.

So, out of options, he made his way over to the window, hoping that whoever was coming up was close enough to the building for him to scope something out.

…and he was in luck.

Right across the way, in the parking lot attached to the student center was a young woman talking excitedly into her phone, lugging bags of chinese takeout in her free hand.

In all honesty, he doubted that was who was coming to visit, as neither Foggy nor Matt had had a pretty girl visit them since moving in but the details didn’t matter.

Once he started looking at her, he felt like he couldn’t stop.

Everything about her was captivating to him from the bright smile on her face as she spoke to the way she cleverly dodged tripping on the curb after clipping her heel stepping onto the street.

It was charming, as charming as a complete stranger could be and it actually made his chuckle.

“Nice save” he laughed under his breath, thinking about all the times he’d nearly wiped out in the same spot. “What is?” Matt wondered, suddenly appearing behind Foggy and nearly making the man jump out of his skin.

Apparently his phone call had ended, and he’d taken it upon himself to sneak up on his roommate, which always seemed surprisingly easy for him, given the whole being-blind-thing.

“This girl on the street, she almost ate it on the asphalt” he allowed, making room at the window for his roommate, not that he would be able to see her anyway.

Matt nodded, listening to your footsteps as you approached their building and made your way up to the call box. It was after official visiting hours in the building, but as long as he let you in, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Then, almost in sync with your movements, came the buzzing from downstairs. “That’s my sister, she wanted to see the place so I had her bring some food”

It was casual, all things considered, and still, the news hit Foggy like a ton of bricks.

Sister?

Since when did Matt have a sister?

“Hold on. You mean, you are related to her?” Foggy clarified, his jaw practically hanging down to the floor as he tried to process this new information.

Why was this the first he was hearing about it? And had you been this adorable the entire time?

Matt took a passive note of the way his roommate’s heart rate spiked briefly but thought nothing of it. Foggy was excitable and this wouldn’t be the first time he overreacted.

“Not really. We grew up together at the orphanage, became each other's family” he explained, hoping that was enough information without getting into your shared and very complicated history.

Really, there were enough stories between the two of you to fill hours and hours but there was no point dwelling on that now.

“That’s cool. I have a couple siblings too. I just didn’t expect to be meeting the family” Foggy tried, wondering casually if he needed to change into a cooler shirt before you made it up the three flights of stairs or if that would be too obvious.

After all, it was sort of against guy code to go after your buddies hot sister but it wasn’t like Matt wanted you anyway. It would be a waste if he didn’t at least make a good impression.

The knock on the door sent both men into motion, but for two very different reasons.

Matt made his way across the short expanse of the apartment to the front door while Foggy beelined for the bathroom, figuring he could fix his hair if nothing else.

“Hey Matty” you cooed, a wide grin on your face the moment Matt appeared in the doorway.

You two hadn’t seen each other since he moved in and, in your opinion, that had been far too long. After all, you had spent most of your lives a few doors down from one another.

You weren’t used to having to travel to see him.

“I heard you tripped in the parking lot on your way up” he joked, pulling you into a tight hug and closing the door.

You scoffed, at first because he would have the guts to make fun of you when you came all this way with the best chinese food in town and then because there was no normal way for him to know that.

“How?-” you started but he waved you off with a gentle nudge, “Nosy roommate”

Then, as if on cue, Foggy emerged, doing his best to look both as handsome and as normal as he ever had. His hair was still untamed, sitting just below his shoulders, but at least he’d brushed it.

That had to count for something.

“You must be the nosy roommate” You nodded, pointing him out as you put the pieces together, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N”

On instinct, you produced your hand for him to shake it but Foggy didn’t move. He wanted to, he really really did, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t do anything but stare.

Which was definitely very calm, and normal of him.

There was a beat of silence as you tried to figure out what to do, and Matt waited for Foggy to say something but it never came.

“That’s Foggy, and you can set the food in the kitchen”

You nodded, tapping his arm gingerly as you passed so he’d know you walked away before setting a new course toward where the little kitchenette across the apartment was.

Their place was no bigger than a dorm but considering two college boys lived in the space and one of them was completely blind, it was well kept and way nicer than you would have expected.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Foggy turned to his roommate with what could only be described as an incredulous glare dressing his face.

“Hey, so not to be weird but what the deal with your super hot sister?” Foggy hummed, hoping that his tone didn’t give away how aggressively he was ogling you to his best friend.

He could have used a heads up, at least.

He didn’t want to be inappropriate or make either of you uncomfortable of course but it wasn’t every day that such a beautiful woman invited herself into his living space and he was a little caught off guard.

He didn't want to miss an opportunity.

Not that you were an opportunity, of course.

He would never stoop so low as to think of you that way, he just wasn’t that kind of a guy.

Still, he was a guy and there was no getting around the fact that he was sure you were the most stunning person he’d ever laid eyes on, and he’d seen lots of people in his time.

“First of all, there’s no deal and second, she isn’t super hot” Matt answered, scrunching up his face as he considered that the reason behind Foggy’s increased heart rate was likely surrounding you.

Which was already far too much information as far as he was concerned.

“I can assure you, my friend, that she is uber hot, even if you can’t see it for yourself,” the blonde argued back, shamelessly letting himself watch as you searched the cabinets for actual plates.

You were sort of just hoping they would have some.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back” Foggy allowed, leaving Matt searching for which one of the movies in their extensive DVD collection they could watch while you were here.

You had gone through and made him braille labels for all the cases a while back, and now, all he had to do was decide which of the vast selection seemed right.

“The plates are up here” Foggy called, half jogging toward where you were still searching to reach up and grab the few dishes they had acquired together.

It didn’t even occur to him to wait for you to move before he did though, resulting in you basically being boxed in between his frame and the countertop.

There was a moment between the two of you as you met his eyes, a couple plastic plates held in his hands, the space between you essentially miniscule.

“Thanks, I was starting to think I’d never find them” you tried, doing your best to cover up how flustered the situation had made you, because you had just met him, after all.

There was no way you could have a crush on him already, right? Those things took time.

Though, how much time definitely seemed to vary because in the twenty minutes he’d known about your existence, Foggy would definitely say he had some kind of feelings for you.

He just wasn’t sure how to go about acting on them yet.

Foggy laughed, it still not occurring to him that he should back away from you, mostly because he didn’t really want to. “It’s no problem. We don’t really use them, not a lot of company”

That didn’t seem likely to you at first but between the two of them, you weren’t really sure who would have anyone to invite over more than the other.

“I’m sure you have girls over all the time” there was humor in your voice, but you were just as curious as teasing.

Surely you weren’t the first person to have noticed how darling he was. You thought the students at Columbia were supposed to be smart.

“Food’s getting cold!”

Matt interrupted your conversation before Foggy could assure you that, without a doubt, there were no other girls he’d rather have going through his dishware than you.

The reminder that you were not only not alone but also in the company of your brother made your skin hot but you did your best to cover it up with another light laugh. “

Coming right up, Murdock. Don’t get your panties in a knot” Foggy called, making a show of handing you the plates he’d so gallantly fetched for you before grabbing the take out bags, “And just for the record-there are no girls”

[crusty-chronicles]

Yu Yu Hakusho Men Reacting to Receiving Flowers

Synopsis: How the men of Yu Yu Hakusho react to receiving flowers and if they'd get you some in return 🌺

Yusuke💥

He pretends to be offended, but honestly it makes his heart melt

The fact that you went out of your way to actually buy him something makes him feel special.

Doing it just because without expecting anything grand in return.

If you give him flowers in private, he puts up less of a fuss.

“I'm not sick or anything, you know. Besides, you could've just plucked some weeds instead of spending so much money.” He says after (not so) begrudgingly taking the small bouquet from you.

Already knowing they won't last more than a week in his care. But still trying to hide the heat rising to his cheeks.

But if you give him flowers in front of his friends, namely Kuwabara, he makes a big show of it.

“What am I? A girl? Or did you just wanna take on gardening, because there's no way in hell you actually got me flowers.”

You end up calling him a jerk before leaving.

And he feels really bad after.

Despite his tough guy act, he genuinely does care about you and hates to see you upset. Especially when it's because of him and his big mouth.

So he shows up later to your house with an even bigger bouquet of roses.

“I'm sorry for being an ass. I didn't mean it I just…didn't want- Well, Kuwabara would never let me live it down.” He tries to explain.

But you weren't buying it, judging by how you still hadn't opened your door all the way. So he tries to apologize again the only way he knows how.

“I'll take you out wherever you want for a week if you let me in?” He says hopefully.

“That's not enough. You really hurt my feelings today.”

“Two weeks. And I'll buy you flowers every day. Your favorites~ sunflowers.”

He keeps true to his word and makes sure to always accept whatever you gift him with a huge smile from now on.

No matter if it makes him look like a softie or not.

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

Kurama🦊

He's thrilled

Will point out and explain what every flower means.

What each part of the bouquet symbolizes

Please buy this man red roses

As cliche as they are, they symbolize love. Your love.

And he can't help but be smitten by the fact.

He's not the slightest embarrassed whether you give them to him in public or private.

Even if the others tease him for it, he'll just come up with a witty remark to shut them down.

“Maybe they think you're a girl after all,” Yusuke said, followed by another taunt from Kuwabara.

“His delicate features got to them.”

“What a funny way of saying the two of you have never thought of getting your partners flowers before? You do know Valentine's Day is coming up right?” Kurama shut down.

And the both of them start racing to the nearest boutique. Pushing and shoving each other out of the way.

When you gift Kurama flowers, they don't wither away within a few weeks.

Instead he'll use his demon energy to keep them alive for years.

Might even plant some of them to make a new bouquet for you in the future.

All in all, it's one of the few gestures that makes his heart beat just a little bit faster. And he cherishes each and every bud.

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

Hiei ⚔️

He could care less tbh

He isn't all that familiar with human gestures, so he doesn't know what to make of it when you present him with a bouquet

“Are you taunting me?” He asks.

And you have to explain to him that sometimes humans like to gift flowers to their lovers as a way to show affection.

He personally thinks it's a waste of time and energy. A few weeds that shrivel up and die within a week are supposed to symbolize your feelings? Why waste your human currency when he can just show you affection through his actions. i.e. watching over you.

He tells you as much too, but the second he sees you deflate, he quickly snatches them up.

Grumbling out a ‘Don’t start sulking like a child. I didn't say I rejected your little gift.’ And a ‘Next time don't bother. Come to me directly.’

Hiei will only receive your flowers in private.

You will not be able to catch him in public to give them to him.

In fact, he rarely goes out during the day. Preferring to wait for you at home.

He will also not mention it to the others and trusts you'll do the same.

Your relationship is private, and he prefers to keep it that way.

While Hiei personally doesn't see the appeal of giving flowers, he knows you do.

Which is why you wake up one morning to see a single white orchid on your pillow

And he'll deny it was ever him that left it there.

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

Bonus Jin🌪️

The purest of bois

He's absolutely ecstatic when you give him flowers

Like Hiei, he doesn't understand many human gestures. But it's the fact you're giving him something that makes him so happy.

You could probably give him a rock and he'd have the same reaction

He eventually asks you why you brought him flowers.

And when you say it's because you love him, he's practically jumping with joy. Picking you up in a strong hug and swinging you around a few times before placing a smooch on your cheek.

“You've got me ears wigglin’ and everything!” And sure enough, the tips of his ears are jittering about in excitement.

He'd like to return the favor and get you flowers just as beautiful however-

“We've got a few pretty plants in demon world, but they'd probably bite your head clean off. Woosh! Just like that.” He explains.

He settles for bringing you little wildflowers whenever he has a chance to visit instead.

He's a little fascinated to find out there's meaning behind each flower.

He just figured they were pretty and that's it.

When you tell him a baby’s breath (which he thinks is an incredibly weird name for a flower) means long lasting love, he swears he can feel his face warm.

So he tries to find you flowers that hold meaning too.

The color red always seems to mean love, so most of the flowers he gifts to you in return are that color.

He's just an absolute sweetheart all around 🥺

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

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💘

[transjess]

“Crowley,” Sam says. “I am not marrying you.”

“Just hear me out,” Crowley says, holding his hands up. “This could be good for both of us, right? Just sit your giant arse down and listen to me for a minute.”

Sam glowers, but he’s always been curious, and the desire to know what the hell Crowley is on about wins over his instant dismissal. “You have a minute,” he says, lowering himself into a bunker chair. “One minute.”

“How generous,” Crowley says, but he doesn’t waste any time. “Look, Sam, neither of us wants Abaddon in charge, right? Alone you can’t defeat her, Cassie over there’s about as much use as a dodo, and as much as I hate to say it I’m not entirely confident I can beat her either. Wherever Dean’s buggered off to, he's not helping right now. But united, together, we have a chance.”

“Where the hell does marriage come into this?” Sam interrupts.

Crowley holds up a hand. “Patience, Moose,” he says. “I was getting to that.”

“Get to it faster,” Cas says.

“Down, boy,” Crowley says, unbothered. “Marriage comes into it because a lot of demons are sticklers for tradition, right? The only reason Abaddon has so many dogs in her corner is because they think that because she’s got the better claim to the throne, she’s more powerful - the Lucifer loyalists switched over to her, because she’s the closest they’ve got to him. A Knight is higher up the traditionalist food chain than a crossroads demon, no matter how efficiently Hell runs under my rule. Now, who else has a claim to the throne? Say, one directly related to Lucifer?”

“Me,” Sam says, starting to understand.

“Bingo. The demons loyal to me like the way Hell’s run, and the rest think I don’t have a claim to the throne strong enough to go against Abaddon. Even if they’re not traditionalists themselves, they think Hell will fall back to a more traditional rule, and they don’t want to be on the old girl’s bad side when that happens. But if I was allied with, say, the Boy King of Hell, true vessel of Lucifer? A lot of them would switch sides. And that would be huge.”

“Why marriage?” Cas asks. “Just sign a- a truce, or something.”

“What is marriage if not a contract?” Crowley says, spreading his arms a little and grinning. “A truce that isn’t binding isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, Feathers. And we can’t just be allies in this - full offense, Moose, but you’ve got quite the history of trying to kill me the moment I stop being completely useful to you. I’m not trusting your good word as far as I can throw it, mate. With a contract, I can make it a little more… binding. Historically, marriages have been uniting political allies for hundreds of years - what better nod to the traditionalists among the demon populace than a marriage between the current King of Hell and the destined Boyking? It’s a contract that goes off with a bang. I get to strengthen my position, you get to cash in a little of that Devil clout with any demons you come across - wouldn’t it be easier if they had to obey you? Skip past all that recitation and stabbing and whatnot? Quick and easy exorcisms, all for the low, low price of marrying me. Best of all, this contract wouldn’t even touch your soul. Not that I’d want it, mind you; the thing’s a mess. But regardless, all you have to hand over is… well, your hand. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re insane,” Sam says flatly. Cas hums in consideration.

“You wouldn’t have to take any interest in Hell itself, by the way,” Crowley adds. “I’ll run the whole shebang. Contracts, demon management, soul counts, all of that. You won’t have to worry your pretty little head about a thing. Just keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing - without the threat of demon usurpation and Abaddon takeover quite so weightily on my mind - and all that’ll be different is a ring on your finger and a ‘til death do us part. I’ll even let you read over the vows before the day. Just so you can make sure I’m not up to anything sinister.”

“You’re always up to something sinister,” Sam says, ignoring Crowley pretending to blush and bat his eyelashes. “I just don’t get your angle on this one. Marriage, of all things.”

“Well it’s not exactly ideal for me either,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes. “As much as I love to rile you up, I’m after a quiet life, no nagging wife telling me to clean up entrails after myself when I get home from work after a long day, etc etc. Though I suppose you’d make a decent little housewife, Samantha, all things considered.”

“Shut up,” Cas says before Sam can. Glad we’re on the same page, Sam thinks wryly.

“Look, Sam,” Crowley says, and he looks so completely serious for a moment that it’s almost startling after the faux-flirty banter. “Just think about it, alright? This could be good for both of us. And don’t worry,” he adds, switching back to flirty, lips curling up at the corner. “I won’t even expect you to consummate the marriage.” He winks, grinning, and then disappears. Cas scowls.

[jawsoffate]

streamer (iii x oc!reader)

Summary: iii is streaming and reader wants attention

TW: oral sex, Pin V, computer table is definitely being used. This was sparked by the recent events, but no descriptions of faces or names are being used, besides the eye color and hair.

💖 masterlist

The apartment was immersed in a comfortable twilight, illuminated only by the bluish light of the screens. The sound of buttons being pressed echoed softly, mixed with the deep, relaxed voice of iii, talking into the microphone with his friends. The occasional laughter broke the silence, creating a laid-back and engaging atmosphere.

She entered the room quietly, observing iii in profile as he was fully immersed in the game. His platinum blonde hair fell lightly over his forehead, emphasizing his intense blue eyes that were fixed on the screen. His large hands moved skillfully on the controller, and the slight furrow of his brow indicated concentration.

For a few moments, she simply watched him, gently biting her lower lip. The tension was already in the air, latent. She knew he was aware of her presence, even though he hadn’t yet shifted his gaze from the screen.

Finally, she decided to act. She approached slowly, letting her soft footsteps be noticed. She stopped behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders and applying a slight pressure. He relaxed instantly under her touch, releasing an almost imperceptible sigh.

"Are you busy?" she asked in a low voice, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath against his neck.

He chuckled softly, without taking his eyes off the screen.

"I always have time for you." The response came quickly, yet laced with a hint of provocation.

She slid her hands down his shoulders, slowly descending his arms until she reached his hands on the controller. With a firm movement, she made him drop the object, leaving it on the table. Finally, he turned to face her.

His blue eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip. He pulled her closer, until she was sitting on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. Both of their breaths were faster now, as if anticipation had taken over every cell of their bodies.

"You know I’m live, right?" he murmured against her neck, his lips grazing lightly, sending waves of heat through her body.

She smiled, sliding her hands through his hair, pulling gently.

"Turn it off." That was all she said.

He didn’t hesitate. With a quick motion, he disconnected the headset and turned off the stream. Now, the only sound left was the rush of their breaths and the faint hum of the electronics around them.

Without wasting any time, iii lifted her slightly, placing her on the gaming table. His large hands held her thighs firmly, spreading warmth wherever they touched. She leaned forward, capturing his lips in an urgent, deep kiss full of repressed desire.

His movements were precise, firm, as though he knew exactly what to do to provoke her. His fingers traced the outline of her thighs, slowly rising until they reached the hem of the fabric separating them from his touch. She arched her back slightly, encouraging him to continue.

"You look gorgeous like this, did you know that?" he whispered against her lips, his blue eyes shining with a mix of admiration and hunger.

She smiled, pulling him even closer, feeling the heat and weight of his body against hers.

"And you talk too much..." she teased, before pulling him into another kiss, deep and intense, letting actions replace words.

He kissed his way down her neck, slowly sliding to her collarbone and further, leaving a trail of heat on her skin. His firm hands helped her lean back, supporting herself on the table as he knelt before her.

With an intense, desire-filled gaze, iii gently pulled the piece of clothing that separated them, revealing her warm skin, eager for more. He stared at her for a moment, as though imprinting every detail in his memory.

"I want to feel you…” he said, his voice low and hoarse, before leaning in to kiss her again.

He ran his hand along the side of her face, his fingers sliding gently over her warm skin, as though he wanted to remember every detail. Without rushing, he held her by the waist, laying her on the computer table. The soft lights of the monitors flickered around them, but iii’s focus was entirely on her.

She felt a shiver run through her body. It wasn’t just his touch that set her on fire, but the words that came charged with a truth that made her heart race. Without hesitation, iii slid his hands down her thighs, slowly parting them. The cables and controllers were pushed aside with a careless gesture. He wanted space for her. He wanted every inch of that surface occupied by her body.

He leaned in, kissing her deeply, but this time there was a slowness to his movements. He wasn’t in a rush, not impulsive. It was as though he was savoring every second, every sigh, every shiver she let slip.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he asked against her lips, his fingers exploring the outline of her waist, rising until they reached her breasts.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm.

"Yes" she challenged him, her voice rough with desire. "But tell me again.”

He paused for a second, his eyes locked on hers. The light in his blue eyes was a mix of raw desire and something deeper, more intense.

"You drive me crazy. You always have." He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear, making her moan softly. "You make me want everything… with you.”

She felt her heart race, and before she could respond, he kissed his way down her neck, leaving a hot trail down to the center of her chest.

"I want you to feel how much I want you" he whispered before lowering himself even more, kneeling between her legs.

With a firm gesture, he slid the fabric separating them, leaving her completely exposed. His blue eyes fixed on her, and she squirmed slightly under his intense gaze, as though he adored her.

"Beautiful..." he murmured, his fingers tracing a soft path along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

She gasped, her body responding to every touch of his. Her fingers pulled at his hair again, eager to feel him closer, to end that sweet torture.

But iii liked to tease her. He started slow, his tongue sliding gently, exploring her with patience and precision. Her reaction was immediate – a deep moan that filled the room, echoing between the electronics.

"That’s it..." she moaned, her hips moving slightly against him, seeking more contact. "Don’t stop…”

He smiled against her skin, pleased with her reaction. His hands held her thighs firmly, keeping her in place as he dedicated himself to each movement, alternating between soft touches and firm pressure.

"I’d never stop" he said, his voice muffled, but full of desire.

She felt her whole body ignite. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, pulling him closer as her own body gave in completely to the pleasure he was giving her. Her moans grew louder and louder, uncontrollable.

"Please..." she whispered, lost in the sensations. "Don’t stop... I’m so close…”

He quickened his movements, his tongue and lips working in perfect sync to take her to the edge. When she finally exploded in an intense climax, her whole body trembled, and she let out a scream that echoed through the apartment.

iii slowly rose, kissing his way back up her body until he reached her lips again.

"You taste amazing..." he murmured, his lips still moist, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

She pulled him closer, her eyes shining with intensity.

“Now it’s my turn..." she said, her voice full of mischief, but before she could move, he grabbed her by the hips, laying her back on the table.

“Not yet.” His voice was firm, but full of affection. "I’m not done with you yet.”

He kissed her again, and this time, as their bodies aligned perfectly, she knew he was giving himself completely. There was nothing else but the two of them in that moment, the passion and desire burning intensely.

When he entered her, it was with a mixture of urgency and devotion, as if each movement was a silent promise.

“You’re mine.” The words came out between his teeth, as he moved inside her with strength and precision. "Always have been, always will be.”

She held him tightly, her nails digging into his back as they moved together, their bodies in perfect harmony.

“And you’re mine,” she replied breathlessly, her eyes fixed on his.

The rhythm increased, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the apartment. But it wasn’t just the sound of their skins slapping together in sync. It was more than carnal desire"there was something visceral, a silent understanding that ran through every touch, every glance they exchanged.

She arched beneath him, seeking more, and he met each silent request with precision. The force of their movements made the table creak slightly, but neither of them seemed to notice. The lights on the monitors flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls around them, as if they were accomplices in this moment.

“Do you feel that?” iii murmured against her skin, his voice husky with desire. “How much do I want you? How much do I need you?”

She couldn’t answer with words. She was lost in the pleasure he was giving her, each thrust deepening the connection they shared. Instead of speaking, she pulled him into a deep kiss, their lips meeting in a clash of passion and need. Her hands were everywhere"on his back, on his shoulders, in his hair, as if she wanted to anchor herself to him, as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. He held her hips firmly, his large fingers leaving soft marks on her skin as he moved with an almost calculated precision, yet still full of surrender. 

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his blue eyes boring into hers. “Always have been. From the beginning.” She moaned in response, her eyes closing momentarily as she felt a wave of pleasure course through her body. His words held weight, laden with a devotion that made her heart race even faster. 

“And you’re mine,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion and desire. “Not just now… Always.” 

His movements became deeper, as if he wanted to mark those words in her soul, and she followed him, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was only theirs, a dance that seemed to have been rehearsed forever.

“Faster…” she begged, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please…”

He complied, intensifying the pace. One of his hands went up to her neck to squeeze it. Each thrust made the table shake, the sound echoing through the room along with her moans and ragged breaths. His eyes remained fixed on her, watching every reaction, every tremor that ran through her body.

“I love how you react to me,” he murmured, a satisfied smile on his lips. “How you give yourself… It’s only for me.”

She smiled between one sigh and the next, her lips parted, her eyes shining with passion.

He slid one of his hands to the lower part of her back, pulling her even closer to him, deepening the connection between them. The pleasure was almost unbearable, as if they were both on the edge of the abyss, ready to throw themselves together.

She felt her entire body light up, an electric current running through every nerve.

“Don’t stop…” she begged, her voice trembling with desire. “I’m so close…”

He held her even tighter, his hand on her neck tightening his grip. The way he moved inside her was both possessive and adoring, as if he were recording that moment in his memory.

“I’ll never stop,” he promised, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ll never get tired of you.”

The climax was approaching for both of them, like a wave building, ready to crash. She dug her nails into his back, pulling him closer, while he maintained the perfect rhythm, deep and intense.

“Look at me,” he asked, his voice low, almost a command. “I want to see you when it happens.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his. The look they shared was more than desire"it was a silent pact, a promise that this moment was just the beginning.

“Now,” he whispered, his voice thick with urgency. “Come with me…”

The words were the key that unlocked everything. She gave herself completely to him.

She leaned against him, her entire body shaking as a wave of pleasure washed over her. He followed her soon after, his body tensing before relaxing completely, as if she had taken everything from him.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Only the sound of their panting breaths filled the space.

He fell on top of her gently, supporting himself with one arm so as not to press her completely. Still, he kept his face close to hers, leaving small kisses along her jaw.

"That..." he whispered, with a satisfied smile. "That's all I need."

She ran her fingers through his blond hair, pushing the damp strands away from his forehead.

"And I only need you."

The sound of their breathing began to calm, their heartbeats slowly synchronizing. He pulled away a little, still standing next to the computer desk, and looked at her with a satisfied but calm smile, as if the world around him had slowed down. She, still lying with her head resting on her outstretched arms, looked at him, her eyes still shining with the reflection of the intensity they had just shared.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice now soft, as if he cared about every detail of her well-being.

She smiled, her smile sweet and serene, and moved her fingers, as if she wanted to feel his presence once more, even after the moment of passion.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice soft, but full of affection that enveloped every word. “I just… I don’t want this to end.”

He leaned over, placing a hand on the table, close to her, and bent down to kiss her forehead, the gesture simple, but full of affection.

“We can stay like this as long as we want,” he whispered with a laugh, his voice warm and comforting. “There’s no rush.” She laughed softly, still breathing heavily, and pulled him closer, laying her head on his shoulder, as if she wanted to anchor herself there forever.

“Yeah… because this table is super comfortable,” she said, teasing.

“Come on, I think we need a shower.”

She sighed with a peaceful smile, feeling completely safe in his arms, and snuggled even closer to him.

“I accept.”

“Let’s go,” he said finally, pulling away gently and offering her his hand. “A shower and then, who knows, a little more time for the two of us on the couch.”

She smiled and accepted his hand, feeling happy and complete, already anticipating the next peaceful moments they would spend together.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Harringrove Halloween Ficlet

I didn't have time to participate in kinktober or to write a full spooky fic this year, but there is no stopping my love for this season or how it gets the plot bunnies hopping. Shout out to @robthegoodfellow for listening to my brain rot and helping this come together.

I was laughing at all those "Satan impregnates his bride" memes, and IDK bumbling Satantic Witch!Steve was born.

~*~

The Bride of Satan.

There’s a naked man on Steve’s bed. Maybe hey's still a boy. No telling. He’s built like - holy shit - but there’s a roundness to the slope of his shoulders and the edges of his face, that could be called baby soft. Could mean he’s closer to Steve’s own age of nineteen than the wear and tear on his body and the layers of compact muscle imply.

Steve absolutely does not look at the naked man’s dick, so it doesn’t factor into the boy vrs man argument blitzing through his head, like at all. Not that it should. That would be weird - and also Steve doesn’t have time to worry about how old the stranger in his bed is. He needs to figure out some way to send him back to wherever he came from. And, most importantly of all, he needs to repeat the summoning spell before the moonlight is gone or the ritual will be ruined. If he fucks up the ceremony there will be no way to hide it from the rest of the coven.

He looks back down at the heavy book he’s been studying for months in preparation for this night, rereading the steps to the spell. He did everything right. He’s sure of it. Said the words to invite the devil in and strengthen the coven.

He drank the wine and ate the herb at just the right spots, and stripped himself down to his cotton briefs without tipping over from the high. He’d felt the tingle in his fingers and toes spread out in a warm rush all over his body just like Paul (who had done the ceremony the year before) had described when he'd asked.

Roll the blades of willow grass in… wait. Shit. Realizing that he’d already read that part, Steve blinks slowly and refocuses his eyes on the page. This would be so much easier if the page would stop pulsing. He doesn't pretend to understand the magic, but right now there should be a naked girl in his bed. Maybe a witch from one of their sister covens, or just some ordinary girl from the suburbs who wouldn’t know anything about fertility rituals or witches; but a girl.

Because it’s a god damned fertility ritual! Frustrated Steve heaves the book aside and drops his head into his arms, defeated. The Child is definitely not coming this year. Fuck! He’d messed it up somehow. How had he messed up this bad?

Steve swallows and tries to ignore the little voice of shame in his head that says he knows exactly how the ritual failed, and Nancy's voice following it like an echo.

You have to believe. You have to want it Steve or it loses its power.

Yes well. Forgive him for having mixed feelings on ushering in the birth of the anti-christ. That's like - huge.

The sound of shifting on the bed alerts him to the fact that the stranger is waking up, but Steve can’t muster up enough care to look up from his knees. His life is pretty much over right now. If he’s not banished from the coven for good for being such a colossal waste of witch, he’ll eat his hat. Paul's seed hadn't taken but at least he actually completed the ritual!

“Uh…who the hell are you?” The man on the bed says in a softer tone than Steve would have expected for someone waking up in his position.

The words are right, but the blond sounds kind of slow and muzzy, like he’s about to fall back asleep. So not a witch then. Ordinary humans aren’t as tolerant of the magic as satan's daughters and their descendants are. Thank the morning star for small blessings. It means that when this stranger wakes up back in his own bed or wherever the devil found him, he won’t remember any of this.

"I'm fucked." Steve answers into his knees, and the stranger shifts again on the bed.

"Oh. Well hi Fuck-Head. I'm Billy."

Steve snorts a laugh, surprised that it's only a little bit bitter. Okay. That was funny. Intrigued despite himself Steve raises his head and peers over at the man. He's sitting up now, balanced on one elbow, gazing down at Steve with soft blue eyes fanned by honey colored lashes. Steve gulps.

"How come you're not scared?"

Billy shrugs.

"Either this is a dream or Eddie was right and I'm about to be sacrificed to the devil." he answers, head moving back and forth slowly as he eyes the ring of animal bones and rows of burning candles that surround the bed.

"Eddie talks too much." Steve grumbles, before it sinks in that if Billy knows Eddie than he must be a local. There are obviously non-believers in Hawkins but the Coven has been going strong here for hundreds of years so maybe Billy comes from a family of witches after all. He doesn't know why a little spark of hope starts burning inside him at the thought.

"So I am being sacrificed?"

"No. I mean you were supposed to be," Steve tries to explain while Billy gives him a skeptical look. He sighs. "Look yeah I summoned you but you're not right for the ritual, so I guess you're off the hook."

"What, you telling me I'm not a good enough human sacrifice Pretty Boy? Last time I checked I fit the bill."

"Last time you checked, huh?" Steve huffs, biting back a smile. "I don't think there are qualifications for human sacrifices."

Billy shakes his head with a click of his tongue.

"See that's where you're wrong. What if I was like a rapist, or had murdered a bunch of kids? The sacrifice has to be pure right? Where's the fun in devouring a soul that is already hellbound? "

He's definitely a witch! Steve thinks, elated, only to doubt himself a moment later. Or maybe he's just super into the occult, like Eddie.

"Babe. Blond. Virgin." Billy ticked off on his fingers, a shit eating grin creeping over his face. It's a little unsettling what with the glaze over his eyes. "That's how it goes, and I'm all three baby."

Steve huffs a laugh. Can't help it. Yeah thats how it goes in the movies, but in reality the devil isn't all that picky about who humans decided to serve up in his honor. That is a trivial human decision gladly left in the hands of his faithful followers. It is the end of the world and the coming of The Child that he took very very seriously.

"Well lucky for you this isn't that kind of sacrifice."

"What kind is it then?" Billy asks dropping his hand into his lap and shifting on the bed.

"It's - are you jerking off?!"

Billy's hand pauses momentarily where it's rubbing over the stiffening flesh between his legs. He sounds surprised when he answers.

"Oh. Yeah. Kinda super horny actually."

Oh. Right. Of course he is.

"That's part of the magic." Steve explains. "It's easier to complete the ritual if you're in like a faugh or whatever."

"Horny fog. Got it. And this ritual, what's that about?"

"Well it's layered. We offer the devil a host and he strengthens the coven."

"Uh huh."

Steve bites his lip. Swallows. It is very hard trying to recall his ceremonial history when Billy keeps stroking his cock like that. It fits nicely in his hand. Not comically big, but just big enough and flushed an almost pretty shade of red.

"In exchange he takes our seed, our mortal flesh, and sews into another." Steve finishes in a rush. "To make a baby. Sometimes."

"Fuck. That's weird." Billy says, stroking himself faster. Steve can't take his eyes off of him.

"Yeah... very weird."

"Didn't think old lucy was such a family guy."

"He's not really. There's only been daughters so far and he needs a son."

For some reason this made Billy toss back his head and laugh.

"Sounds like my dad."

Steve doesn't have to ask what he means. Most of the dads he knows are pricks and Billy can't mean he's devil born. If The Child had come before now Steve wouldn't be in this predicament - which would be sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a raging hard on, watching a stranger jerk off in his bed.

"So you see now? I fucked up. I can't do the ritual and that's gonna weaken the coven."

Billy hums, and the sound goes straight to Steve's dick. Fuck he's starting to leak and it's just embarrassing because there's no way to hide the wet spot seeping through his briefs. Why is this his life?!

"How do you know you fucked it up?" Billy suddenly asks, jerking Steve out of his spiral.

"Huh? What do you mean. Billy, I can't impregnate you!"

"You could try! Damn it, I'm dying over here." Billy cries in exasperation releasing his dick - now an angry looking red bordering on purple - and Steve scrambles to his feet in alarm as Billy throws himself backwards onto the bed.

"Billy-?" Steve reaches for him, worried as the blond squirms on the bed before flopping over onto his stomach and grinding his hips down into the mattress.

"Look. You said sometimes. Sometimes there's a baby. But your coven still gets its power boost or whatever the fuck." Billy grunts between humps. Steve has no idea where he's going with this.

"Yeah?"

"So, I'm here! I'm here and obviously devil spawn isn't required, so just fuck me!"

Billy is right Steve realizes. He's so right! He's beautiful and brilliant and so so right!

Grinning, Steve shucks his briefs. He's on top of Billy a moment later.

[perfectlyoongi]

SOULMATE!JIMIN who joked that his soulmate didn't exist in that era. Jimin saw couples wherever he looked, and between the caresses and words of love from strangers, Jimin just couldn't see that sweet future for himself. maybe he didn't have a soulmate; he never felt love, never thought about loving, never thought he was worthy of loving or being loved — his soulmate certainly didn't exist in that life. “maybe the gods don’t think i have the right to love. maybe that’s why i’ll never have a soulmate.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who questioned his beliefs when he met you. maybe love is something meant for everyone; maybe love is something that helps us live life; maybe, but just maybe, love exists for Jimin in the midst of your laughs and smiles, your words and touches painting constellations in Jimin's heart, always leaving him to question his belief: could you be his soulmate? “you bring with you the heavenly doubt that consumes my heart. you make me want to believe in a soulmate. you make me think i'm worthy of love.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who felt the world changing from the moment he started loving you. it wasn't instantaneous, it wasn't like the stars brought your hearts together immediately, it wasn't like the gods sang your romance; no. it was slow, tender, loving you was like planting a flower, seeing your relationship blossom into something so intense, so deep that it made Jimin's entire world turn upside down. “now that i’ve allowed myself to fall in love with you, it seems like nothing else makes sense in this life other than our love.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who believed he would always be happy if you were with him. how could the negativity of the world touch Jimin if he was protected by your essence? how could the tragedies of the universe ruin Jimin's life if you were always and constantly by his side? how could Jimin not be happy when he was loved by you? your entire cosmic soul shone brightly in Jimin's life, expelling any and all darkness, always sheltering his fragile heart. “there is no darkness in this world capable of consuming me when your love shines so brightly within me.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who only saw a life by your side. it was when Jimin met you that his life began to have some meaning, all his motivations being driven by the knowledge that your presence, your love, would always be there waiting for Jimin; it was like being blessed by the universe itself, it was as if the gods themselves had taken a celestial pen and written in starry tones an entire bright future for Jimin, just for you being in his life. “our life is engraved in the various celestial constellations, making it impossible to live without you.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who gave you kisses steeped in longing. Jimin missed you for entire lives, your presence was something Jimin constantly needed to feel good about life; he didn't love you immediately, he took a while to get to know you and all this precious time seemed like a waste in this life, so Jimin kissed you longingly, melancholy painting his lips, the need to make up for all the time lost moving his sweet lips. “let me show you how much i missed you my entire life. let me show you how i loved you before i even met you.”

SOULMATE!JIMIN who asked the gods to find you in the next life. loving you in a single life wasn't enough — Jimin had so much love for you that he couldn't express it in a single life; therefore, he asked all the gods and stars, engraved in each constellation his eternal desire to be able to love you in the next life and in all the others that followed. he just wanted to love you forever. “i think the cosmic dust of which the universe is made is at the core of our souls and will eternally guide me to you.”

[brandwhorestarscream]

Okay so I scrolled down and saw what you were referring to - I can do that!! With mega/high command bc what’s better than one mommy? 3!

Megatron getting to stressed out with the was so Starscream pins him down and forces him to listen to his mommy. Starscream coaxing Megatron to suckle for nostalgia’s sake (if Starscream isn’t milking)

Soundwave having a host of cassettes fighting with Lord Megatron over soundwave’s lap and kisses, with Megatron being very much too big to sit in mommy’s lap but he tries so hard, arms around soundwave’s knees as Soundwave lets Megatron take his dinner in bed 👀

Shockwave warming Megatron in order to teach Megatron about about a new invention, only for Megatron to throw a fit (he wants the mommy milky but shockwave needs Megatron to be a good boy and listen)

BIG BRAIN!!!!!

Mmmm StarSoundShock who found this adorable cogless little baby wandering around the wastes alone, crying and cold and hungry. They couldn't resist. Took him in and couldn't decide who got the privilege of being the carrier so they're just Red Mommy, Blue Mommy, and Purple Mommy. Without a cog, their boy will never be able to fight with them: though they teach him self defense to the best of their ability, his chances of survival are slim if someone intent to do real harm attacks him. As such, they're extremely overprotective, keeping him under lock and key + heavy guard, and he grows up into a very pampered, sheltered young mech

Let's say that Dee had snuck out of the base and was foraging for goodies out in the wild and happened to come across Orion, Elita, and Bee. They're like him! Small woth a big hole in their chest! When he finds out they're looking for the Primes and the Matrix, he gets so excited: "My moms used to work for them!"

He sees this as the golden opportunity he's been waiting for! His moms all still treat him like a little child, never letting him do anything! He's tried and tried and tried to make them see him as an adult, but without a cog, he'll always be their helpless little sparkling and nothing more. If he can help recover the lost Matrix and get energon flowing again, or even just do something to help disrupt Sentinel's regime, they'll have no choice but to accept that he's all grown up and perfectly capable of contributing!

And... you know, capable of other things, but we'll get to that 🤭

Anyway, stuff happens. Alpha Trion gives them their cogs. Dee tries to convince him to come back to the High Guard's base with him: his moms will be over the moon when they find out he helped revive one of the gods! And now that he's no longer cogless, he can help fight! Everything is going so well ^-^

Fast forwarding a bunch cuz idk how the autobot-decepticon war starts, and Megatron is STRESSED with a capital everything. As the one who took down Sentinel, a feat of strength no one in the High Guard could really contest, he's somehow landed himself on Starscream's throne. Mommy is still ruling, make no mistake, just through him instead of directly. He doesn't mind, truly 😌 but when the stress gets too much, Star will shoo him out of the throne and sit down in it himself, coaxing him to come sit in mommy's lap. Until very recently, Dee was so very small. He could easily perch on one of Starscream's knees. Now, he's much bigger, but the seeker assures him it's no problem. "You need to relax, my spark... all this worry isn't good for you. Here," he parts his chassis and his feeding pouches bounce free, already full of milky energon just for him. "Have a meal with your favorite mother. It always makes you feel better, no?"

Pivoting to Soundwave, aksjsjska I hadn't considered the cassettes being jealous but tbh? Based. Soundwave scolds them if they get too rowdy, telling them that their baby brother is having a hard time and needs mommy's undivided attention right now. They can either help soothe him or leave the two of them in peace. This results in a lot of grumbly cassettes perching wherever they can on Megatron and joining the cuddle pile. How sweet 💖

Shockwave leverages milkies routinely to get their boy to do as he says. Of all the things empurata destroyed on him, his chest was not one of them: if anything, it's bigger, and he's probably modded his pouches to make the highest quality, smoothest energon possible. It's Megatron's favorite, much to Starscream and Soundwave's chagrin, but at least it works to get him to behave 🤭

Idk when exactly Dee started lusting after his mothers. He tries not to! Really, he does. He tries looking at the other seekers--they're pretty, all of them! Surely one of them will catch his eye... but no, no one compares to Starscream. He starts avoiding them, their touch becomes too much, and he withdraws further and further, becoming angrier the longer he fights with himself. What's wrong with him?! They took him in and gave him everything, how can he harbor such indecent thoughts for them? He's convinced they'll be disgusted, that they'll hate him, that they'll cast him out to die alone in the wilderness

Perhaps they find out only after he becomes Megatron. Perhaps he confesses when he's still cogless and frail. Idk, but whenever it happens 🤭 they're all surprised but none of them are angry. If anything, Shockwave is relieved: the most logical conclusion was that he was pulling away from their love because he was Becoming An Adult and felt he no longer needed them. This is much more preferable. Starscream, sexual deviant that he is, shrugs and says, "If it will make you happy, then I'll gladly indulge you." Soundwave agrees. That's all they really want, for him to be happy and healthy. And if being tied up and doted on and fucked stupid by his mommies is what will make him happy, then so be it

[emojellyace08]

Hi! Big fan of your oneshots. Can I request a female Gojo x lookism men characters. Where Gojo dies and is reincarnated into the popular webtoon Lookism but "HE" became a "SHE". Gojo being gojo causes mayhem wherever she goes and rizzing people especially teasing the students at J-high because she is now their teacher. And Gojo is more chaotic than Goo and I imagine her saying to Gun, "I'm the strongest". Since he reincarnated as a girl and in a world without curse energy he doesn't have any CE but he is still super strong just like the OP characters in the webtoon especially since he's an expert in the martial arts. He still has the six eyes but not as OP and draining he just can see really well than the average person.

Female! Gojo Reader x Lookism Cast!

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 (𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐥). 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲) 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

In the world filled with infinite possibilities, you wouldn't expect to end up in another universe. You, one of the most (if not) powerful sorcerer in the whole world ends up dying in the hands of Sukuna. And you wouldn't expect to get reincarnated in an ordinary world without curses. Well, that's what you thought at first.

You were first confused at how did you turn into a baby. But lucky for you, your family is part of one of the most wealthiest and powerful Yakuza in Japan. Growing up, you were confused about your identity. Asking your mom if you really turned into the opposite sex. "Ma, can I ask you something?" "Sure darling, what's the matter?" she asked with a sweet tone as she prepares your meal. "Am I really a girl?" "Well, physically you are a girl. But if you feel like not fitting with the other little girls, it's okay if you like masculine toys. But inside of you must be always genuinely kind and is ready to help others without wanting anything in return."

You may still have the familiar sapphire blue eyes, hair fluffy like clouds, skin white as snow, and your personality intact with your female body, you still can't help but to feel weirded out in your early life. Without your powers, you felt the familiar feeling of dread linger through your soul. All the training and physique were wasted because of that monster! But you forced your dad to teach you martial arts. He almost scolded and beaten you up for "disobeying" his rules as you are not fitted to replace his heir. Feeling that familiar burst of pride in your heart that wanted to explode and lash out to him and knowing to yourself that you have LOTS of experience in your past life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, you trained yourself for years to prove your own father wrong and show him who really is the weak one. Time-skip ahead, you successfully graduated and hired as a teacher for Physical Education knowing that you are body-kinesthetic.

You made your way into the school hallways with your bag. Instead of books for your lessons that you will discuss about, it's filled with sweet treats (and some lip balms to keep yourself ✨sexy, gorgeous, and daring✨. You remember high-school days when many teenage boys at your age often fight outside your house when they used to court you. "Sorry, I'm not attracted to men and girls are really scary! Sheesh people are so cheesy these days!"

Knowing your instincts, you tend to be a bit too friendly with other people as you are excited to annoy another living soul in this earth today. "He~~LLO!" you greeted quite loudly as the poor guy squeaked in surprise at your presence. "WUAH FUCK! Oh, shi- I'm sorry sunsengnim!" (teacher). "Oh, NO WORRIES PAL. You must be new here, right?" you questioned as you introduced yourself to the new student. "Well, I am (*insert female name here*) and according to every men and women that I had rizzed, I'm the most prettiest and sexiest woman and teacher in this country. Well then nice to meet you." you winked as to express your friendliness as he awkwardly shook your pale hands with his sweaty ones. "Ah, I'm sorry for the overflowing enthusiasm. Let's go to your new class for us to meet them!" you chuckled as you ate your mochi, even offering to share Hyung-Seok but he politely declines.

The moment you and Daniel entered the Fashion Department class, everyone's jaws dropped as it almost hit on the floor for dramatic effect. And you know that you weren't wasting their time when you gave all those candies as prizes by making up a warm-up game before classes begins as they are already fond of you! The other boys trying to impress you as you platonically tease them even though you have no romantic attraction on them. And the GIRLS WOULD LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Your hair and eyes also makes them fond of you (especially Zoe since she's a Beauty-Nerd). "OMG ARE YOU AN ANGEL OR SOMETHING?!" she squealed as you let her braid her hair as you relaxed on your chair and placed your legs on the teacher's table despite it being against the rules on free time. The others were doing their own shenanigans as you keep telling them to quiet down. "So, you think I'm hot or something? I'm glad you know. Oh Zack stop abusing Jiho's hand it's just arm wrestling!'

And they also enjoy your performance activities too! Since their courses is all about sewing with those mind-twisting history behind it, of course they will get sleepy and stressed out about it. But being the bold and bright-spirited that you are, you know school won't be fun without a little stretch of your body. So you make sure that whatever you teach them sports will be easily followed, yet you tend to forget to uncomplicate the rules since you're pride and confidence gets in the way at times. Sports and a little bit of martial arts (especially with the boys) are so fun! Being competitive, you taught them not only the basic techniques and skills that all can master. But you also thought them discipline when using it as you also sighed to yourself that you can get a bit cocky when fighting too as the adrenaline keeps chasing you to your high when fighting a strong opponent. You can see Daniel, Zack, heck even Jay taking down notes to this. The other departments are also fond with you as they really idolize you as their teacher (especially The Architecture Department).

But despite having your comedic side, it's rest assured that you are not letting anyone slide whoever tries to mess with you or anyone you know or fond with. The bullies will just stare at you cowardly as you look back at them with your striking cerulean eyes yet they seem uncanny because of your menacing expression. "You little fuckers, didn't your parents told you to not disturb anyone in the way?" "WE'RE SORRY SUNGSENGNIM!"

Yet since your family background is REALLY involved with the gangs (and the 4 major crews as you have minor knowledge around it), you started to get involved with the drama. Not only because you want to protect the innocence of your students as you grew fond over them, but because you tend to get a bit bored on teaching and pissing off your co-teachers. You smirked as the thought of fighting strong opponents excites you.

And you're excitement matches up with the sturdy and powerful fighters in this universe. You even helping out your students to bring down some of the most-feared men in Korea like Jonggun and Jungoo. You even got to flirt with them with a moment before you went face-to-face with the two as you declined their offer as they asked you to be their new member for Charles Choi's success.

"Miss, I'll ask you again. Why is it that you don't want to join our team? Are you so worried about leaving your students?" The black eyed male whispered at your ear as crimson-red blood drips down to his chin as you smirked at the bruise you gave him at the side of his lips. "And for a hottie like you, I didn't expect you to be this strong! So why not join us for a million won and even more?!" the blondie exclaimed as he swung his pipe as his weapon of choice. Him looking around at the building with lots of damage done from your fighting. "First of all, that's three questions. And yes, I have no plans to team up with your shitty team since I like hanging out with my students. And lover boy take note of this, I'M GOING TO SHIT ON YOUR FACE BECAUSE I"M THE STRONGEST!" you maniacally laughed as you landed a kick on Shiro Oni's face once again as he's starting to feel aroused excited about the energy that you're giving him. "If so, then LET'S FUCKING KILL EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW!" he ripped his shirt off as he rushed towards you as you did the same with that smile. "OI YOU'RE FORGETTING ME HERE I'M THE MAIN CHARACTER!" Goo replied as he plans to attack you from the back.