#i will be thinking about this for the rest of the day and perhaps week thank you guerilla 🙏

[sinofwriting]

All Relaxed - Jenson Button/Reader/Logan Sargeant

Words: 1,698 Summary: Jenson sees how stressed Logan and his girlfriend are and just wants to get rid of it for them. Note(s): Slightly NSFW, Dom/Sub Relationship/Dynamics. Dom!Jenson, Sub!Logan, Sub!Reader. Don’t be like them and approach a brand new dom/sub relationship like this, I beg of you. Also, no one ask how this ship popped into my head, I can’t be held accountable for my thoughts.

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Jenson watches as both Logan and Y/N practically stumble into where the fan stage would be happening. You’d think they had just woken up, but he can tell that still sleep is invading them. The circles under their eyes have worsened and his worry grows when he notices them both shake their head at food being offered. The same thing they did yesterday as well.

He more than knew how rough Formula 1 could be and that was before they made the calendar twenty-four races long. But he never had been that exhausted. Some of it was without a doubt the treatment of Williams affecting him and Jenson had tried alleviating that, trying to somewhat step into the mentor role, but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing enough.

And poor Y/N had broken down in his arms the last time they saw each other about everything going on with her family and school.

He wants to fix it. To see them without any worries, to see them relaxed. All loose limbs, no tension, eye bags and circles gone. He’d like to see them not look so gaunt as well. He’s sure Elias is fine, but it’s obvious he doesn’t know Logan. Benny would have straightened Logan’s current less than stellar eating habits in a few days and Jenson knows it’s been at least a month of Logan barely eating anything unless it’s one of his premade meals.

It’s the thought of wanting to see them all relaxed that has him begin to plot. It would be far too easy to invite them to his house in California. Undisturbed, no close enough neighbors to really bother them, not that he planned on really having them leave the house. If anyone spotted them it would be the end of a peaceful trip. And he knows that they are both free for the next two weeks. He had heard Logan mention it just the day before.

He starts making a list of groceries that need to be ordered, then he makes an email to a friend who owns a private jet and owes him a favor. He texts his housekeeper, asking if she wouldn’t mind going to his house today if she has time and straightening up the place.

As he starts to order the groceries, his attention is drawn away by the sound of a breathless sort of sigh. His eyebrows quirk up when he notices that it was her and he follows her eyes and fully understands, his throat going a little dry.

Logan had been put into a tight-fitting team shirt, something either tailored to him or knowing Williams and their budget they had just given him a smaller size and it looked good on him. The thin fabric clinging to every muscle and inch of his upper half. Jenson hadn’t realized that Logan had gained that much muscle since last year, even despite not eating it seemed he was keeping it well.

He watches as Logan smiles at him before looking at his girlfriend, sending her a small wink and Jenson can’t help but look at her, see how she reacts, and he shifts in his seat seeing the grin on her face, the way her shoulders have slightly relaxed.

What he wouldn’t give to see them both all relaxed for him, laying flat on their backs in his bed, letting him take care of them. He nearly drops his phone as the thought strikes him. Fuck.

—

Jenson watches amused as they walk around his house. Perhaps it was stupid to still invite them to his house after realizing he wanted them both in his bed. But he couldn’t continue to let them go about running on fumes.

“You guys go get settled, take a nap, rest, and I’ll cook dinner.”

“Let me help, Jenson.”

He shakes his head at her offer, “I’ve got it, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you both when it’s all ready.”

She looks ready to protest again, Logan as well, but he gives them both a stern look, and a simmer of arousal hits him as they both immediately start walking to the guest bedroom with quiet thank you’s. This might end up being a bit harder than he thought.

It does end up being harder than he thought, a lot harder in fact. It seems him realizing he didn’t just find them both attractive but also just plain and simple liked them had opened the floodgates. And their responses to him taking care of them was certainly not helping either.

It was only the third day of them being here but Jenson was sure he was going to cause a bit of an issue with the water with how many cold showers he might end up taking. His satisfaction of them letting him take care of them instantly turned to arousal.

That same day however after dinner as they laze about in the living room while he cleans up the dishes he realizes that they might feel the same way. They can’t stop looking at him. At first, he thought maybe they wanted something but were too shy to say something but when he looked over, they both looked away, clearly flustered at being caught and when he went back to cleaning up, their eyes were on him again, lingering.

It’s confirmation, but he doesn’t plan on doing anything about it, not until hours later as he does his rounds in the house, making sure everything is locked up and he passes their room and he hears them both.

The light sound of skin coming together, small whines and breaths that are more like gasps. His hand palms himself before he can stop it and then he hears it. His name. He freezes, thinking he must have misheard, but then he hears it again, the both of them moaning his name.

He barely makes it to his bedroom, back against the door as he presses his hand into his bottoms and jerks himself off, finishing quickly and making a mess of his sweatpants.

Jenson of course brings it up the next morning. The two are so flustered that even if he hadn’t heard he could guess that something happened.

“Good sleep?” He starts off with, hiding his smirk by taking a drink of coffee.

They both nod, shoulders tensing a little and that has him frowning, setting his mug down. He just started making progress on their tension. “You both sounded lovely.”

Logan’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at him while she gasps, hands coming up to cover her face.

His eyes flicker between the both of them. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you both say my name like that again. Maybe with the visuals as well.”

She makes a squeaky noise at his words and Logan’s cheeks have managed to turn more pink.

“And just to be clear, I wouldn’t want it to be a one time thing, or just sex.”

“But, you want the both of us? I mean more with the both of us?”

Jenson smiles gently at Logan’s nervousness. “Yes, the both of you. I want to take care of you two. And sex doesn’t have to be on the table, I’ll still happily do it without anything sexual, but I figured I’d put it on the table.”

Logan looks a little confused but before Jenson can say anything else, she’s giving a slight tug to Logan’s shirt.

“He’s offering to be our dom.” Her voice is quiet, the words clearly meant for Logan, but her eyes flicker over to him as well.

The American’s eyes widened. “Oh. I, we’ve never,”

“Done this before?”

They both shake their heads.

“I sort of figured. It’s not something I’ve done lots of either to be clear and never on this level. The last time I dommed was years ago and it was just sex. What I would like with us would be more than sex if we even agree to have sex be a part of it at all or to do this.”

“Why do you want to?”

Jenson smiles at her question. “I like you both and want to take care of you. You’re both stressed, spiraling. Barely sleeping or eating. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears with how much tension you both are carrying. I want to ease that, take everything off your shoulders, make it better or rather easier to deal with.”

“And you like taking care of people.”

“Not everyone.” He corrects. “I’m a bit too selfish for that, but certain people,” and his eyes flicker between them. “Absolutely.”

It’s not a very long talk, not as detailed as it should be. But he promises himself that he will sit down with them tomorrow to talk everything out, but they’ve got the basics down. They all are interested in the sexual and in private, like Jenson’s home, are happy to be submissive but don’t want it to bleed into their work/student life as much as they can. He makes sure they know to tell him no. He doesn’t foresee himself pressing too hard about taking breaks and such that it would make their work and student life suffer, but it’s always a possibility and he is far from perfect.

And now not even two hours after waking up he’s got them both in his bed and he can’t help the slight amusement he feels seeing them both wearing Logan’s boxer briefs, he’ll have to see about getting them in his next time. His amusement doesn’t last long however as he takes them in, both laying flat on their backs, upper halves completely bare, both stunning.

“Gorgeous.” He murmurs, sitting at the end of the bed and pressing a kiss to Logan’s calf and then hers. “Both of you look gorgeous for me.”

Her breath audibly stutters, while Logan lets out a keen, fingers twisting in the sheets.

He tuts at the tight grip, running his fingers over the younger man’s until he loosens it. “That’s better. Let’s get you both all relaxed for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Jenson.” They say together and his cock twitches. Fuck is he lucky.

[draconym]

Tell us more about the Spricket Dungeon? I'm admittedly morbidly curious now

A lot of people have a spricket dungeon in their basement. Sprickets, or "spider crickets," commonly called cave crickets or camel crickets, are cave adapted (trogloxene) fauna and have been living alongside humans (also trogloxenes) for probably tens of thousands of years. The oldest known illustration of an insect is of a cave cricket, carved into a bison bone in France somewhere between twelve and seventeen thousand years ago.

While harmless, a cave cricket is like if a water buffalo were the size of a blueberry and could subsist entirely on mold and autocannibalism. So any dark and humid place where you might find a hint of mildew or dust seems sufficient to sustain a breeding population, and if they somehow end up in a sterile environment, cave crickets can live for months without any food at all. Roaches get all the credit for being nature's most indestructible vermin, but I think cave crickets are equally likely to withstand nuclear apocalypse, especially considering their tendency to live deep underground.

My old house's spricket dungeon was a crawl space under the stairs where we kept snow shovels, paint cans, and bicycles. There was a lot of debris in the closet when we first moved in, and I suspect us cleaning it out was what started the crickets' slow population decline. My housemates and I occasionally caught them or laid down duct tape traps, but mostly the crickets stayed in their artificial cave and only one or two would venture out into the rest of the basement each day.

Stomping on them was out of the question. Not only did it seem too violent, it was also deeply unpleasant to imagine popping them like grapes underfoot. Additionally, those fuckers are fast. I mentioned this in my last post, but their primary defense mechanism really is launching themselves at your face, and it's very effective. Imagine if the water buffalo the size of a blueberry could jump three feet in the air, and it was pissed.

It didn't usually disturb the crickets if you opened the door to pull out a bike. They were mostly carpeting the far wall of unpainted cinderblocks. But if you turned on the closet light bulb, they often started hopping in every direction, and their fat bodies thumping against the linoleum made a hollow 'pop' sound similar to a popcorn kernel in a paper bag. Now imagine dozens of them doing that at once in your direction.

Over the thirteen years we lived in that house, my housemates and I saw the population of sprickets dwindle to about a dozen, but we rarely went more than a week without seeing one. They're much less common in the house we moved to a year and a half ago. We see perhaps one small one a month, rarely any bigger than a skittle, and significantly more timid when not surrounded by an entire cricket metropolis.

I don't particularly want to share my house with them. But they are kind of an inevitability in most human homes, as they have been since we were living in caves. So I do try to regard them as fellow cave dwellers with as much awe and kindness as I can muster, whether I see them in my basement or in the Appalachian karst.

[kikidoul]

── CRIMINAL LOVE.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established+secret relationship reader is a detective while jungwon is part of the mafia ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used fingering pussy eating cum eating edging/orgasm denial . . .!? 1328 — mlist. req

note. uh, i'm not really proud of this but i'm too lazy to rewrite so i'm afraid you have to make do with this... </3 taglist. @tfwbluu

You groaned for the unknown time, stretching your arms above your head as you leaned back in your chair. You’ve spent the past three hours seated by your desk, boring holes at the sheets of papers scattered across your desk. It was a case that could risk or break your chances of getting a promotion—something you’ve been yearning for. Being a detective is not easy, especially when you have criminals who are constantly outsmarting you. 

Fuck it, I’m dealing with this tomorrow. 

Sighing, you start packing up, filing the papers into a clear folder and shut down your laptop. You were the only one left in the office, leaving you the task of shutting off the lights and air-conditioner before leaving. You headed to the basement where your car was waiting for you and you drove off, returning home. 

“...Why are you here?” You deadpanned, standing by the door frame as a familiar figure made himself at home, seated by the dining table with already cooked dishes. 

Jungwon flashed you his signature smile, his dimples showing on his round cheeks. “Why not? I got off work early and decided to surprise you. Why? Don’t you miss me?” He batted his eyelashes at you, laughing when you rolled your eyes. 

“I miss my peace and quiet. It was great having the whole house to myself. What happened anyway? Didn’t you tell me the mission will last for two weeks?” You asked as you removed your shoes, neatly placing them by the side. 

Jungwon rose from his seat, approached you to help in taking your things and placed them on the coffee table. “It finished earlier than we expected and Hyung decided to let us have a short break. But enough about me, how was your day, darling?” 

You shot him a glare. “Oh, you know, thanks to a certain someone, I had to stay behind, trying to figure out what his main goal is.” 

Humming, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your left shoulder, slightly swaying you side to side. “Sounds like you’re under lots of pressure, love. Perhaps you need to destress.” 

He coos, hands subtly snaking its way underneath your clothes, tracing the outline of your body. Goosebumps formed on your body when his warm hands touched your skin. You looked over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow. 

“And what do you have in mind?” You questioned. 

The smirk Jungwon gave you was anything but harmless. His eyes twinkled with mischief, a sly smirk stretching across his face. “I’ve an idea.” 

~

“Hah—Wonie—oh fuck,” you cried out, your back arching off the bed as you gripped onto both the pillow and his hair with your hands. 

Your legs were slung over his broad shoulders, spread open for him like you were the main dish served to him on a silver platter. Your back arched off the bed at a particularly harsh suck of your clit, digging your feet onto your boyfriend’s back to ground yourself. You weren’t sure how much time had passed. It could be minutes or hours but you couldn’t care. Not when Jungwon was eating you out like there was no tomorrow. You rocked your hips against his mouth, breathless moans and whimpers fell from your lips. 

You felt the familiar ache in your stomach and how your muscles tightened. “Fuck—Wonie, please, please,” you mewled, wanting to be free from this sweet torture your boyfriend was putting you through. 

Much to your utter horror, frustration and disbelief, Jungwon moved away. He chuckled at the desperation written all over your face and just to be a tease, he rolled your puffy clit in slow circles, grinning at how your legs twitched. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t think you deserve to cum, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

His words made you sobbed out loud, tears of frustration prickled your eyes. “Why!?” 

Jungwon hums. “Because you didn’t solve the case. How about you tell me where you stopped and I’ll help you out. If you can answer me correctly, you can cum. How does that sound?” 

Your left eyebrow subtly twitched, unable to believe what he was saying. “Jungwon, I swear to god—!?”

The rest of your words died in your throat when he pushed two fingers in and you instinctively clenched down on the sudden intrusion. Your eyes rolled up at the feeling of him twisting his fingers in just the right angle, hitting the spot that made you see stars. As quick as it happened, Jungwon pulled his fingers out, eliciting a disappointed sound of protest from you. 

“First question: how far are you into your investigation?” He questioned, calm and collected while you, on the other hand, were a mess. 

It was already hard for you to process his question, especially when he thought it was a great idea to kiss your inner thighs, touching you everywhere but your poor neglected and throbbing clit. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating in anticipation when you felt his hot breath grazing against your clit, only to let out a startled yelp when he pinched your thigh. 

“Hey, I’m asking you a question, you know. What? Don’t tell me you’re already fucked out?” He mocks you, moving his fingers down to brush them against your clit, slowly spreading your folds apart and blowing hot air at it, savoring the way you squeaked. 

“Imagine how your superior will react if they were to see their brightest, smartest and intelligent detective getting defiled by the very same criminal she’s tasked to go after,” he continues, emphasizing some of his words with him moving his long, thick and slender fingers in a scissors-like movement, making your mind reeled from the delirious feeling. 

“Ngh, I—I’ve figured out—hah—your patterns, oh god,” you breathed out, gripping onto the sheets for dear life as Jungwon ducked his head to lap away at your clit, collecting your slick to spread them all over your puffy folds. 

As far as you were aware, you have been edged for the past one or two hours and all it took was for a few simple licks with his skillful tongue for you to push you over the edge. Your body shook vigorously from your orgasm, limbs twitching and spasming about as Jungwon drinks it all, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

You knew you were in deep trouble when you caught how Jungwon’s eyes darkened a shade. You nervously gulped, watching as he moved upwards, hands resting on both sides of your head. You felt small under his intense, unwavering gaze and you squirmed about on the sheets. A gasp left your lips when he gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Looks like you disobeyed my order. I hope you’ve prepared yourself,” he warned. 

~ 

The next day, you arrived at your office feeling more exhausted than usual. It was a miracle that no one noticed how you were limping as you made your way to the pantry area. 

“(Name), how’s the progress on the investigation going?” Your superior asked, startling the lights out of you as you were in the midst of preparing a cup of coffee for yourself. 

Turning around, you plastered what you hoped was a convincing smile. “Ah, I’m almost there and I just need a little more time before I can catch them, sir.” 

Your superior nodded, pleased with your response and left you alone. You sighed, hand tracing the hickey left on your neck—concealed by a layer of makeup. 

Bzzt, bzzt. 

Feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket, you pulled out the device to see it was a text message from Jungwon. Ensuring no one was nearby, you opened your conversation to see two simple messages: 

Hi love, just want to let you know that we’ll be committing a crime tonight at: XXX - XX - XXXX. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ love you

Catch me if you can, detective ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

[cuffmeinblack]

Sated

Emmrich Volkarin x f!reader

Tags: explicit | sex | fingering | hand kink | teasing

Summary: You often find yourself turning to Emmrich for pleasant company and comfort, but after a taxing day you require more than a little conversation to help you unwind.

2.48k words (ao3 link)

A/n: Sorry HogLeg followers, this had to be done.

The dim corridor stretched before you, a sliver of light dancing across the stone floor, beckoning. All was quiet, not even Taash’s snores to mask your footfalls as you approached the door you knew all too well. Often had you found yourself drawn to this very spot, unable to articulate why you sought his comforting presence. You would watch him read or weave his magic, and he would allow it without complaint, only a wry smile upon his beautifully distinguished face.

And tonight, you were so very tired, body drawn so tight that the very mention of Gods or Venatori might send you spiralling into a pit of despair; a day spent slaughtering would do that to a person. So you lingered by that door, placed a palm upon the wood and sighed.

“Rook?”

The voice came from within and you jolted back, contemplating running back the way you came. Instead, the voice lured you further with promises of softly spoken words and the ghost of a touch upon your skin. This little game you played, this dance of desires, was as agonising as it was enticing. There was thrill in the chase, the longing. Your skin tingled before you even laid eyes upon him, and pushed open the door.

“I thought it was you,” Emmrich said. “I could sense your presence, dear.”

He stood by the fire, his back turned to you whilst absorbed in something you couldn't see. Even after hours of battle he remained pristine; freshly bathed, hair combed and clothes neat. You took tentative steps towards him, pulse already racing and stomach clenching with anticipation. His jewellery glinted by the light of the flame, and you saw that he was holding a book. Of course.

“What are you reading?” you asked, wishing that he would turn to you.

“A tedious tome, I'm afraid. Though it might very well prove useful, so unfortunately I must persevere.”

His fingers skimmed the page, dancing over the words as if conducting a symphony. Dexterous fingers that had occupied your thoughts for weeks. The scent of ink and old parchment filled your nostrils and you shivered, watching him splay the pages with erotic curiosity.

Emmrich finally turned to you with a friendly smile that quivered upon meeting your gaze. 

“Are you quite alright?” he asked with a hint of concern.

No, you weren't. But there was little to be done about the hunger that clawed at your chest, night and day. “I'm fine,” you said instead.

His head tilted to one side to regard you, his hand stilled upon the page as you watched in rapt fascination. Those hands might have been able to unravel the tension knitting every muscle in your body, with little more than a curl of his fingers. Molten desire flooded your veins, burning your skin, and an ache settled low in your abdomen. No soft words and pleasant company would be enough for you tonight.

“I don't think you are…” 

Emmrich snapped the book shut and placed it upon his chair, stalking towards you. He stopped only inches away and frowned, as if examining a specimen for its ailments. Your eyelids drooped to be so close, caught in the maelstrom of his presence. His lips, so tempting, parted.

“Oh.”

You blinked. “Hm?”

Emmrich smiled and brought a hand to your cheek, catching you unawares. Knuckles skimmed across your skin, a ring-clad finger resting below your chin.

“I can practically feel the warmth radiating from your skin, darling. Your pupils dilated, that nervous energy.” He chuckled. “If I didn't know better I would say you came here seeking…relief.”

“Would that be so unbelievable?” you asked, fingers daring to reach out, to pick at the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Perhaps. I thought you enjoyed our flirtations, but I admit I had no idea that you were serious—”

“I'm serious.” 

Don't make me beg.

He took that half step forward to close the distance between you, his breath ghosting the skin of your cheek. Instinctively, your head lolled to expose your neck, exposing your vulnerability, a soft and shuddering sigh escaping your lips. The pulsing between your legs intensified as he took the cue without hesitation, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear before his lips found skin. 

Emmrich kissed up the column of your neck almost languorously. A gentle flick of tongue at your pulse point had you whimpering for more. Your hands worked of their own accord, picking open the buttons you'd been idly toying with only moments before. Turning your face, his lips found yours instantly, a low hum of satisfaction working its way up his throat.

Yes, finally. 

This was exactly what you needed. You felt frenzied, but Emmrich tempered your enthusiasm with a grip around your wrist, a well-placed thigh between your legs. He had you pinned against his desk—or had you dragged him here?—still intent on slowing your burning need to rid him of his clothes. No matter—he looked ravishing in them.

“We have hours, dear. Slow down, hm?” he whispered in your ear, sending yet another wave of desire rippling through your torso, dislodging every internal organ.

You whimpered in response and felt the twitch of his lips, apparently amused by the reaction. His kisses traced your jawline, then captured your mouth in one swift and breathless motion. Tongues entwined, intent on exploring every angle, swallowing every breath.

His waistcoat fell open by your insistent fiddling, hands finding his firm stomach as you splayed your fingers wide. Tracing down to his hips, all sharp angles. He did not waver in his pace, looping a gloved hand around your neck to cup the base of your skull as his kiss deepened. The friction against his thigh did little to relieve the intense ache in your core as you felt your underwear slicken with need.

“Emmrich,” you sighed into his open mouth, his teeth nipping lightly at your lower lip.

What a tease he was, enjoying prolonging this game far too much. But you felt the hardened length in his trousers press against your hip, an undeniable reminder of his own desires. You arched your back, grinding into him with renewed vigour, and he gasped with a flex of his hand. Another slow roll of your hips drew a low, rumbling groan from his throat. The satisfaction of his unravelling could not be matched, and you smirked against his lips.

“The things you do to me…,” he muttered, bringing his bejewelled fingers to rest upon your thigh.

You drew back to look into the hazel depths of his eyes, melting as the golden flecks wavered in firelight. Every line, every mark upon his skin only made him more beautiful, each telling a tale of a life well lived. Your thumb traced the crow's feet in an entirely too intimate gesture, and you witnessed Emmrich's self control wane. 

His grip upon your thigh tightened, body pressing closer as he kissed you again, and the hunger that roared in your chest was matched only by his own. He murmured your name in reverent praise with every press of his hips. And his hand moved higher, unfastening the buckle of your trousers.

Yes, yes, yes.

You helped him slip the pesky clothes down your legs until you were bare from the waist down, the cold wood of his desk pressing against your behind. He resumed his previous kneading of your flesh, the cold metal of his rings trailing your burning skin. When he reached the apex of your thighs, your breathing was ragged, chest heaving.

A single finger slid between your lips, coated in your desire, effortlessly honing in on the swollen bud that demanded attention lest you cry out in frustration for the entire Lighthouse to hear. You might have begged, but were too enraptured with Emmrich's lips, his meandering hands, the silken silver strands of his mussed hair. The first press of his finger made you shudder, and you squirmed and moaned as he began the slow, firm circles, winding you tighter and tighter.

You’d succeeded in ridding him of his waistcoat, then unbuttoning his shirt to press kisses against his collarbone, but became too distracted to unclothe him any further due to his unwavering attention. He watched you intently, seemingly fascinated by your desperate whimpering. He'd brought you to the edge in mere minutes, a mess between your thighs that doubtless pooled onto the desk beneath. You were perched atop it now, legs pressed wide. Emmrich took no shame in watching as his fingers slipped around your aching centre—then again, neither did you. He slipped a single finger inside you, then another, to the knuckles.

You moaned and clawed at his hair, writhing in an attempt to push him deeper. He acquiesced, burying his ringed digits inside you. Fingers pulsed, the drag of metal making you shudder with pleasure. Then he curled those fingers with dextrous precision and you cried out as an orgasm ripped through your body. You fell limp, arms barely able to keep you propped upright. The waves kept coming, Emmrich returning his attention to the swollen bud that became increasingly sensitive with every swipe of his thumb.

He kissed you through it all, until only gasps and brushes of lips remained.

Dazed though you were, you could not ignore the hard cock that twitched in his trousers. You didn't want to ignore it—as wonderful as his fingers were, you'd not be sated until he was buried deep inside you.

When he pulled his hand from between your legs, you watched with hooded eyes as he surveyed the mess, a slow smile creeping onto his handsome face.

“Feel better, darling?”

“I want you, Emmrich,” you sighed. “All of you.”

Fuck being mysterious and coy.

“Here?”

He looked genuinely shocked by the prospect of fucking you over his desk. Your chest tightened, and you pulled him closer by his shirt. He didn't resist as you undid his trousers, cock springing free as you pushed them past his hips. A groan laced with pure lust left your lips, and you wrapped your hand around him, swiping a thumb over the glistening precum that stained the fabric pooled below. Emmrich gasped, looking to the ceiling as if in silent prayer.

“I need you,” you reiterated with a gentle tug of foreskin.

“Then you may have me, dear. Every—” he kissed your lips, gloved hand stroking your cheek “—inch.”

He pulled off your top with unexpected strength, baring your breasts to the chill. Nipples already peaked, he took one between his fingers, the soft leather adding extra friction to the already sensitive skin. You moaned and stroked his cock with a steady rhythm to match the flicks of his tongue that found your breast. A light nip of teeth, a firm handful of flesh. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, then looked up at you. “Shall I remove my glove?”

“No, leave it. I like it,” you replied with a lopsided smile.

“I thought you might.” 

Emmrich peered down at where your hand continued to stroke his length, letting his eyes close for a moment. You ached to have him inside you; that thick cock nestled between a patch of silver hair. What might he taste like? The thought of running your tongue up the underside of his shaft, enveloping his head in your mouth…it made you salivate. There would be time for that later, perhaps. His eyes snapped open when your finger pressed the ridge of his cock.

“Please…,” you whined, not caring how pathetic it sounded.

Neither did he, apparently, as he spread your legs further with ease, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance that pulsed in excitement. The stretch as he slid in made your eyes roll back in pleasure, and Emmrich groaned as he took you inch by inch. Firm hands pushed your knees further back, driving deeper until your sweat-slicked skin was flush.

“Oh fuck you feel good,” you said.

He pulled out about halfway, then thrusted back with a snap of his hips. You whimpered, feeling his head kiss your cervix, walls fluttering around his cock as another orgasm started to build.

“Language, darling. Or I might send you back to your room.”

“You wouldn't dare,” you chuckled shakily.

Another thrust silenced you, and your arms finally gave out, sending you crumpling backwards onto his desk. You growled in frustration, pulling papers from underneath your back and throwing them on the floor. 

Emmrich looked positively scandalised.

“Do I need to teach you a lesson about respecting others’ property?” he asked, silken voice growing more hoarse with every slow thrust.

You laughed, quickly devolving into another moan. “Yes, professor.”

Emmrich hummed and gripped your waist, hard. Fingers dug in, creating dents with his nails on one side, the burn of leather on the other. Then he began to fuck you in earnest.

Emmrich was capable of such gentleness, but he knew what you needed now. He pulled you onto his cock with each snap of his hips, hitting every sweet spot you possessed in tandem. It was overwhelming, a swirling vortex of pleasure. You were dizzy, so hazy with ecstasy that you couldn't form coherent words, only moans and screams. Fuck anyone overhearing, you didn't care, there was only him.

His steady rhythm gradually sped up, becoming more erratic as his breath laboured. Silver strands crossed his brow, the last of his composure now deserted him. You liked him like this—dishevelled, sweaty and eyes glittering with passion. As the wet slap of skin filled the room, echoing off the bookcases and scant furnishings, you felt your legs begin to shake as your climax approached.

“Emmrich…Emmrich I'm going to, fuck.”

He pounded into you at the same pace, bringing a thumb to circle your overstimulated clit. 

“Let go, darling. I have you,” he replied.

You cried out, searching for something to cling to. Fingers curled over the lip of the desk. Your back arched, and you fell apart. Your vision faded to black amongst the pounding in your ears, but Emmrich didn't relent. The whimpers and whines only fuelled him; his grip on your waist became bruising, but there was pleasure in the pain.

“Rook…,” he panted. “Where can I—?”

“Inside me, please.”

Emmrich gave another hard thrust and a great shuddering sigh, and his cock pulsed inside you. He filled you until his spend coated your thighs, your bodies simultaneously exhausted as he slumped on top of you. He nuzzled against your neck, breathless; a vulnerability that you cherished. Hearts beat together, touches turning gentle once again.

“Thank you,” you said eventually, now sated and tired.

Emmrich kissed your neck, your chin, your lips, standing unsteadily and pulling his trousers back up to his waist. He held out a hand as one might ask for a dance, returning to the gentlemanly scholar once again.

“Any time, my dear.”

[karizard-ao3]

If you made a teen pregnancy fic how would it go?

Since I get to pick, I choose Ranma and Akane for this one, because even though it is FAR less likely that Ranma would, of his own accord, be able to work up the courage to even kiss Akane, let alone knock her up, any time before his 21st birthday, his world is rife with magical charms and nefarious potions etc, so there is no reason that he and Akane couldn't both, through a comic series of errors, both ingest some inhibition inhibiting bon bons one night while they are alone at the dojo (perhaps Genma purchased them for Nodoka, who won't give him the time of day now that she has her son back), and, thanks to their effects, one thing leads to another and they declare their love and then consummate their relationship. They wake up the next morning back to their old selves and wildly embarrassed. They can't even look at each other. Ranma is beet red and runs away every time Akane tries to talk to him about what happened because he thinks she'll be mad at him, but him avoiding her hurts her feelings, and then it hurts her feelings even more when he finally gets brave enough to apologize and makes it sounds like he regrets it.

By the time their families return from wherever they were, Ranma and Akane are in what appears to be a run of the mill fight, so no one thinks that much about it.

They sort of make up and individually resolve to ignore what happened until a few weeks later when Akane realizes she's late (maybe she and Ranko are synced up? Or would Ranma only have the outer female sex organs but not a uterus? How thoroughly does the curse affect his insides? I guess it doesn't matter since he's not the one pregnant - although imagine an AU where Akane falls in the Spring of Drowned Boy... Oh, the gender bending hijinks).

Anyway, her period is late. She skulks off to get a pregnancy test. It's positive. She freaks out. Now she's mad at Ranma again. He corners and demands to know what he did this time. She shows him the test. He doesn't know what it means. She has to explain, and then he goes white as a sheet. Falls all over himself apologizing, promises to marry her. She is like, "No, thank you! I won't be have you marrying me out of obligation" which makes him super mad because he takes it as a rejection. It's a whole thing.

They try to hide it while they figure out what to do and how to tell their families, but Nodoka sniffs them out almost right away. You know how she is. She pulls Akane aside and asks if she is pregnant and, a little coldly, who the father is. Akane says it's Ranma and Nodoka is ecstatic. Starts tearing up and saying how her boy is a man among men because he ruined a young girl's future by getting her pregnant out of wedlock. You know how she is.

She scampers off to tell the rest of the family.

And thus, the secret is out.

The rest of the fic would be them dealing with becoming young parents, discussing whether they want to keep the baby (they do), and Ranma sorting out all his various suitors so he can show Akane that he is really serious about making it work with her when he finally tries proposing again. Maybe this isn't the order he would have picked to do things in, but he's a School of Anything Goes Martial Artist. He can roll with the punches.

I'm sure there will be all kinds of shit going on. The other girls won't take it well, and Ryoga will for sure try to kill Ranma. Kuno also will probably try to start some shit.

But, in the end, they have their baby and Nodoka babysits for them so they can go to school and Ranma and Akane make absolutely certain that Genma never, ever, under any circumstances takes the baby away to train. He is probably not allowed alone with the baby at all. But, he's a bit better as a grandpa/ panda, so they don't have to worry.

[asilentguardian]

I've got like three wips rn that I really want to finish but while I bang my head against those walls here's a little fic. I was going through my old wips and this is something from 2021 that I finished and apparently never posted, and I think it's decent enough to share. enjoy the hurt/comfort :D

-------

It’s weeks before he starts noticing it.

It’s only after they start whatever they’ve started that Bruce’s walls start coming down, that Hal allows himself to watch Bruce unabashedly.

It’s subtle, at first. Sudden hitches in his step that Bruce recovers from almost flawlessly. When Bruce sits down, the crease between his eyebrows smooths out, his face uncoiling from itself. Hal is no stranger to the people in his life hiding injuries, and Bruce happens to be an expert at it, but Bruce’s skin is only marred in old wounds.

When Hal has Bruce on top of him, bare skin and smiling down at Hal, he runs a hand down his spine. There’s no new bumps or bruises, nothing out of place from the skin Hal has been making an effort to memorize. The muscle at the base of Bruce’s spine tenses as Hal’s hand comes to a stop, so he moves it further down. Hal’s thoughts turn to a barely coherent jumble soon after that.

He tries to bring it up. Tries to ask Bruce about it, but Bruce is adept at leading Hal’s attention towards more pleasurable things.

It’s not until days later, when Hal arrives at the batcave, that it all comes to ahead. It’s late at night, and Hal just spent 3 days away from Earth. The last time Hal had been gone for more than a day, Bruce had barely let him get more than 2 feet out of reach. So the fact that Bruce doesn’t even spin his chair around is Hal’s first indication that something is wrong.

“Honey, I’m home!” Hal calls out as he touches down, expecting an annoyed Bruce to swivel around and glare at him. Or perhaps a grunt of acknowledgement. He remains still in front of the computer.

“Bruce?” Hal says, a bit softer this time. He starts towards the chair.

“Yes.” It comes out strained, more of a statement than a question. As Hal gets closer, Bruce sucks in a breath and grits out “Don’t.”

Hal comes to an abrupt stop and gives the back of Bruce’s head a look.

“What happened.” Hal demands.

“Nothing.”

“Then stop giving me one word answers.”

Bruce heaves in another breath and grips the arms of his chair until his knuckles turn white. Hal braces himself for the start of a fight, but it never comes. He walks around to the front of the chair and leans against the console. Bruce is still in his suit, sans cape and cowl. He’s sitting ram-rod straight, his eyes shut and his entire face contorted in pain. Hal tries to push the panic back down his throat.

“Baby, tell me what’s wrong,” Hal whispers, reaching out and placing his hand on one of Bruce’s arms. Bruce’s eyes snap open and find Hal’s, only to immediately turn his head away, eyes falling down towards the cave floor. Whatever pain Bruce is feeling, it was enough to distract him from Hal’s approach.

Hal assesses him again. Bruce’s breathing is so carefully even. His arms are trembling, and his shoulders are tense. His back is entirely still.

Hal makes sure Bruce is telegraphing his movements out of his peripherals before he crouches down in front of him and takes his hands, lifting them off the arm rests. Bruce’s hands are clammy, they clench and unclench, trying not to grip Hal’s hands too tightly.

“How bad is it?” Hal asks, his voice still low. Bruce swallows once before answering.

“Can’t move,” Bruce pushes out.

“What happened?” It takes a bit of effort to keep his voice even, to keep all of the fear and anger out of it.

“Old injury. Lower spine. Strained it.” Bruce says, once again closing his eyes. It takes Hal a moment to recognize the look on Bruce’s face as shame. He’s blown away by it for a moment, the idea of Bruce feeling shame for something so human. But he’s familiar with the shame that comes along with pain.

“Alright. You can squeeze my hands as hard as you need to, I can take it. We’re going to get you to wherever a clean pair of clothes are,” Hal says, standing from a crouch, maintaining his hold on Bruce’s hands.

“Hal-”

“Nope, no arguing. You’re not laying in bed with me in full costume. Not unless we’re doing something sexy. On second thought…” Hal muses, watching Bruce’s face carefully. A ghost of an exasperated smile makes its way oh-so-briefly onto Bruce’s face.

“Locker room, to your left,” Bruce mutters out, his grip tightening significantly on Hal’s hands. Hal takes a step back to give Bruce room to stand, and Bruce’s eyes finally flutter open. He takes a deep breath before slowly beginning to stand.

It takes a full five minutes for Hal to help Bruce to the locker room. The idea of carrying him is quickly shot down, so Hal just supports most of his weight as they hobble to the door. Hal tries to keep a running commentary up, even as they have to pause for Bruce to catch his breath.

When they finally get Bruce seated on a bench, Hal goes about undressing him.

“Hal, you don’t have to,” Bruce croaks out as Hal begins undoing the hidden catches and buckles on his torso.

“What? Undress my very sexy boyfriend? I think yes I do have to.”

“Hal,” Bruce whispers. Hal stops for a moment and looks Bruce in the eye, framing his head in his hands. 

“Hey, I’ve got this baby, alright? I’ve got you,” He whispers back. Bruce nods and Hal leans forward, pressing a kiss against Bruce’s lips.

“I’ve got you,” Hal whispers again, his thumb stroking Bruce’s cheek. Bruce closes his eyes as Hal resumes taking apart the bat suit. He moves his arms when Hal taps them, stands on unsteady feet when Hal takes off his pants and stays standing as he helps him into sweatpants.

Hal doesn’t draw attention to the spasms in Bruce’s back, doesn’t comment on the occasional flinch. He just eases Bruce through, pauses without Bruce having to say anything.

“We need to get you upstairs,” Hal murmurs, his voice shockingly close. Bruce opens his eyes and looks at Hal. He’s sitting beside Bruce, holding his hand, staring steadily into his eyes. Bruce takes a breath before nodding.

It takes longer to get Bruce to the elevator, but Hal is able to get away with using his ring to help keep Bruce upright.

When they emerge into the manor, Alfred takes one look at them before his eyes widen in panic.

“Master Bruce!” He yells before rushing to Bruce’s other side, taking some of his weight onto his own shoulders.

“To the couch,” he says to Hal. Hal is about to protest, but Alfred seems unaffected, so he obeys. The two of them manage to get Bruce to lay sideways on the couch, his head in Hal’s lap.

Hal is momentarily embarrassed by the fact that he’s essentially cuddling with his boyfriend in front of his boyfriend’s father, but he’s distracted rather quickly by Bruce sucking in another breath between his teeth. He buries one hand in Bruce’s hair and grabs ahold on one of Bruce’s hands with his other. Bruce’s eyes are laser focused on Hal’s.

“I’ll be just a moment,” Alfred says before hurrying out of the room.

“I’ve got you sweetheart,” Hal whispers down at Bruce. Bruce doesn’t respond beyond squeezing Hal’s hand briefly. He closes his eyes again and turns his face into Hal’s stomach.

When Alfred returns, he’s holding a syringe. He gestures for Hal to roll Bruce onto his side, and Hal can feel Bruce tense again as he does. Alfred injects the painkiller into Bruce’s back and gently helps Hal roll Bruce back onto his back.

Alfred takes a moment to study Bruce’s face and take in his labored breathing before standing back up.

“That should help ease the pain, as well make him drowsy,” Alfred says. It takes a moment for Hal to realize he’s talking to him. He looks up at Alfred from Bruce’s slowly softening face.

“Thank you,” Hal responds. Alfred nods and turns to leave the room. He pauses for a moment and turns back to Hal, his eyes fluttering across Bruce, worry very clearly etched into his face.

“Thank you, Captain Jordan,” Alfred says. He’s out the door before Hal can respond. Hal looks back down, continues to study Bruce’s face. He leans back into the couch and props his feet up, listening as Bruce’s breath gets steadier.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

who else up trying to figure out the purpose of it all and coming up empty

[littlepikmins]

I love thinking about time skip future magluck!! Captain of the Bulls Magna and Vice Captain Luck or they're still known as the Special Assault Duo and do very specific missions for Wizard King Asta! Or even both at the same time!

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

feeling weird mixed feelings atm and I can't really logic them away, ig? on the one hand I'm completely apathetic about it. on the other hand there's a part of me that's absolutely horrified that I could do something like that. the fact that it's still a consistent low-level pain the whole time also doesn't help. anyway those kinds of thoughts are then making me want to harm again to cope with them but also a) it's manageable and b) I currently have a deep horror of self-inflicted pain after the last few days apparently.

[dandyshucks]

i think a big plus of having Guz be so tall and just in general bigger than me is that I could sit in front of him with my back to his chest and have his arms wrapped around me and he could just hide me away from the world for a little while. he is my own personal brick wall fsdjkl a weighted blanket perhaps too,,

[artekai]

GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET READING THE NEW INFO ABOUT NEMESIS

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[hoshiina]

guys contrary to popular belief (very reasonable considering the lack of fics I post) I am actually writing something most of the time. I'm just INCREDIBLY SLOW AT WHAT I DO

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! part 2 here! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”