#i'll have to do his kink shit for him eventually.

[sav1ored]

// Negan is definitely 100% dominant in all his relationships, or with his side quest. But it's rare for him to let a woman take charge in the bedroom. Personally, I don't see Negan ever letting a woman take control unless it's someone he truly loves and desires.

And of course, trust. Which that is such a big thing for him. To allow a woman to take charge. For example : a female muse riding him without Negan being the one to control the rhythm and the pacing. Like giving up all that to let her be in control.

( also when i say control i don't mean like pegging, or making him a bottom bitch cause my negan is not into anything like that. )

But yes, so just know in the bedroom he's the one demanding what he wants, and what position and tossing your muses around like a doll tbh. lmao !! with care of course. But yes, if he trusts you, it's such a big thing.

[alygator77]

࿐ vows of duty ── part 1

࿐pairing. arranged clanhead! satoru x fem! reader

࿐summary. the gojo clan is untouchable, and their new ruler, gojo satoru, is the most powerful sorcerer of his generation—unrivaled, unrestricted, and utterly uncontrollable. for years, he has defied the expectations of his clan, rejecting tradition, resisting the cage they built for him. but even the strongest must bow to duty. a deal struck, a marriage arranged. you, the daughter of a fallen clan, are chosen to stand at his side. not out of love, but because gojo satoru always gets what he wants. and if he's obligated to marry, fuck it, he wants you. though, you quickly learn that your place is not beside him—but beneath him. why? because gojo satoru doesn’t do love.

࿐tags/warnings. nsfw 18+, smut, angst (with eventual fluff), slight canon divergence, arranged marriage, satoru is emotionally detached, he's kinda a dick at times, breeding, breeding kink, praise kink, some degradation, loss of virginity, mentions of infidelity, mentions of a prior scandal (i'll update tags as i write more) » 【this part — involves a 7 yr time skip, from both reader and satoru's pov. satoru's a little shit. he's arrogant and gives no fucks. suguru defects. sexual content. fingering, handjob, orgasms, male ejaculation on tits, lots of dirty talk】

࿐wc. 16.4k (suuuurprise.... heh)

࿐a/n. hiiii. it's finally here—the full fic of this drabble. you can expect this fic to be multiple parts, i'm just not sure how many yet. anyways, i had fun writing a canon version of satoru. i love my canon pookie. even if he's emotionally constipated here. enjoy 🫶🏻 (art by @/_3aem on X )

Your mother had always told you—there were four great clans in jujutsu society. Four names that shaped history, wielding power that stretched back for centuries.

The Zenin Clan, ruthless in tradition, where strength dictated worth and weakness was met with exile.

The Kamo Clan, a relic of the past, clinging desperately to their once-unshakable influence, willing to spill whatever blood necessary to remain relevant.

The Gojo Clan, untouchable, revered—the bloodline of gods. A name so powerful it stood above all others, their very existence defined by the Six Eyes and Limitless, abilities so rare they might as well have been myth.

And then, there was your clan.

A family as old as Kyoto itself, a bloodline sharpened by centuries of discipline and technique. The fourth great clan, standing alongside these names not as a rival, but as an equal. You were always told that your family had not built its legacy on brute force or deception, nor had it relied on a singular, overwhelming ability to dominate the battlefield.

No—your clan thrived on precision. Strategy. Control.

Respected. Feared. Established.

Yes, let it be known that your family produced some of the finest jujutsu sorcerers Kyoto had ever seen—that alone secured your place among the elite. And so, you had spent your life walking the delicate line between tradition and expectation, power and obedience. You were raised to be precise, to be measured—a perfect reflection of the strength your family stood for.

And that was why you were here tonight.

Because power, recognized power.

And tonight, the most powerful clan of them all was crowning a new king.

Tonight—December 7th—on his eighteenth birthday, Gojo Satoru would be proclaimed Clan Head of the Gojo family. The invitation had been sent to only the most respected and esteemed. This was more than a celebration; it was a display. A reminder.

All of Japan had known for years that the next ruler of the strongest clan had been chosen. Ever since the moment Gojo Satoru was born, it had been inevitable. But tonight, it would become official.

Inhaling deeply, you forced stillness into your spine—your expression smoothing into something unreadable.

You were no stranger to moving through halls filled with power—no, you had been raised for moments like these. You knew how to hold yourself, how to command respect, how to navigate a room full of Kyoto’s most dangerous and influential figures.

And yet…

There was something about tonight that felt… different.

Perhaps it’s because, for the first time, you would stand in the same room as him. The prodigy. The untouchable. The strongest sorcerer of his generation—a living legend before he was ever grown, a force of nature wrapped in a human body.

You had heard his name more times than you could count, but you had never seen him.

Not in person. Not until tonight.

"Fix your kimono.”

Your mother’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the car, sharp and precise as ever.

She didn’t look at you as she said it—she never had to. The flick of her gaze toward your reflection in the window was enough. Cool, assessing. She expected perfection.

You didn’t argue. You never argued.

Instead, your hands moved instinctively, smoothing the silk draped over your lap. Midnight blue, embroidered with delicate silver cranes in flight—a symbol of strength, of longevity, of duty. A reminder of the life you were bound to.

The obi at your waist had been tied flawlessly earlier that evening, its silken folds pressed into place with meticulous care—yet you still adjusted it. Not because it was imperfect, but because she had told you to.

Exhaling softly, your mother’s eyes swept over you briefly—as though the smallest flaw in your presentation might tarnish the family name.

"Appearances matter," she murmured, smoothing the folds of her own ivory kimono, embroidered with peonies and bamboo—symbols of wealth and resilience. Even in the dim light of the car, she radiated elegance, flawless as always.

"Tonight, we do not lower ourselves."

She spoke as if you didn’t already know. As if she hadn’t spent years molding you into a perfect reflection of the family’s strength.

Across from you, your father shifted, stretching his legs slightly as he leaned back into his seat. The glow of his phone screen flickered over his face, casting sharp shadows across his features. As his fingers tapped idly against the side of the device, the screen was angled just enough that neither you nor your mother could see it.

Yeah… that was a habit of his. One you had learned not to acknowledge.

Your mother never acknowledged it either. Not in words, at least.

But you saw it in the way her fingers tensed against her sleeve, in the subtle shift of her posture, as if willing herself to ignore the obvious.

"You put too much weight on these things," your father muttered, carrying an air of finality. "The Gojo Clan already knows who we are. No amount of perfect posture is going to change their minds."

The silence that followed was familiar.

A subtle tension seeped into the space between them—the kind that had no beginning and no resolution. Something ever-present, like a thread woven too tightly through the fabric of their marriage.

Lowering her gaze slightly, your mother adjusted the folds of her sleeve with slow, deliberate care.

"Power is not always displayed through strength alone," she said, softer now. "It is seen in the way others perceive you. The moment you allow someone to look down on you, you have already lost."

Exhaling through his nose, a quiet sound rumbles through your father’s chest—neither agreement nor disagreement. He wasn’t listening. Not really.

"Depends," he sighs dismissively. "There are worse things than being looked down on."

Your mother’s hands froze for just a moment, before she recovered, smoothing out her sleeve with a quiet nod.

"Of course…" she murmured, conceding with practiced ease.

She would not challenge him. She never did.

Turning yourself toward the window, you felt the weight of their silence settle into your ribs.

You had seen this scene too many times before. So you looked away. Focusing on the world outside, rather than the quiet battlefield inside the car. Then, finally, it came into view.

The Gojo Estate.

It did not sit among the rest of Kyoto. It stood above it.

Carved into the mountainside, the estate loomed over the landscape like something untouched by time. Its outer walls stretched endlessly into the dark, built of aged wood and blackened stone, reinforced not just with craftsmanship but with sorcery itself. A silent warning. A declaration of power—this was not a place where outsiders were welcome.

Beyond the towering gates, the estate unfurled like a painting.

The courtyard was vast, an expanse of raked gravel and polished stone pathways that twisted through pruned bonsai, moss-covered lanterns, and koi-filled ponds shimmering beneath the moonlight. Each element was a silent testament to a clan that valued not just power, but control—as if even the earth beneath the Gojos’ feet bowed to their authority.

A long row of cherry blossom trees lined the outer garden, their pale petals quivering in the night breeze. Winter had stolen the color from Kyoto’s streets, but here, the blossoms remained in eternal bloom—preserved unnaturally, suspended in time by the lingering touch of sorcery. As the wind passed through them, petals drifted down in soft flurries, catching in the air like falling snow.

Your breath stilled slightly.

Even for someone raised in a powerful clan, the sight of the Gojo estate was enough to humble.

The car slowed to a stop, just before the entrance, and your gaze flickered toward the attendants waiting outside before shifting upward, toward the main hall that loomed beyond the courtyard.

It was not a home.

It was a throne.

And tonight, the man who would rule it was waiting inside.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Y’know, I really don’t get why everyone’s making such a big deal out of this,” Satoru drawls, tugging at the stiff collar of his ceremonial robes with a dramatic grimace. “They’ve known I’m the strongest since birth. Feels a little redundant, don’t y’think?”

Across the room, Suguru lets out a slow exhale, his shoulder pressed lazily against the wooden frame of the window. Beyond him, Kyoto stretches into the night—rooftops bathed in silver moonlight, the glow of distant lanterns flickering like dying embers. But he isn’t looking at the view. His gaze flickers toward Satoru through the mirror’s reflection, watching as his friend fussed with the layers of fine silk draped over his shoulders, like it’s a burden rather than an honor.

“They have to make a big deal out of it,” Suguru murmurs, quiet, almost bored. “Otherwise, what’s left for them?”

Satoru scoffs, shifting his weight as he tugs at the sash around his waist, loosening it just to tighten it again.

“Yeah, well. If this keeps ‘em busy, maybe they’ll hold off on nagging me about marriage for another year.”

Suguru hums, pushing off the window frame. Taking a slow step forward, his hands slip into the wide sleeves of his yukata as he watches Satoru wrestle against his robes like they were shackles.

“You say that like they won’t have a new excuse next week.”

Catching Suguru’s gaze in the mirror, Satoru’s lips curl into a lazy, knowing grin.

“Think they’ll get creative?”

“They always do.”

Clicking his tongue, an exaggerated sigh slips from Satoru’s lips as he finally turns from the mirror to grab the ceremonial overcoat folded on the edge of the lacquered table. The fabric is rich and regal—deep indigo silk embroidered with gold, the threads gleaming under the dim candlelight.

“Tch… I swear…” he barely spares the elegant silk a glance before throwing it over his shoulders, the heavy material settling like a crown he never asked for. “Maybe I should start charging for every goddamn time they waste my time.”

Suguru hums, tilting his head.

“You’d make a fortune.”

“Please,” Satoru scoffs, flicking at the intricate gold trim on his sleeve, grin sharp and self-satisfied. “I’m already loaded.”

Suguru lets out a quiet breath, one hand slipping into his sleeve before pulling out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers.

“And yet…” he muses, placing it between his lips as he fishes for his lighter, “all that money, and you’re still stuck wearing that ridiculous thing.”

Satoru let out a long-suffering sigh, rolling his shoulders under the weight of the overcoat, shifting slightly—like he could somehow make it sit lighter on him.

“Right?” He turns back toward the mirror, tugging at the stiff collar with an annoyed pull. “I look like I belong in a fucking museum.”

Suguru says nothing at first. The metal flicks, a sharp scratch of sound, flame briefly illuminating his face as he lights the cigarette. The glow reflects in his violet eyes for half a second as he takes a slow drag.

“Or on a wedding altar,” he exhales smoke in a measured breath.

Satoru’s hands freeze mid-adjustment. His head snaps up, and through the mirror, he shoots Suguru a flat look.

“Not funny.”

Suguru smirks, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers as smoke curls through the air. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, tapping ash into a nearby tray. “Wouldn’t put it past them to slip an engagement announcement into tonight’s festivities. You know how they like their surprises.”

Clicking his tongue, Satoru runs a hand through his hair, deliberately messing it up again.

“Yeah, well… first sign of trouble and I’m teleporting the hell out of there.”

A quiet chuckle slips through Suguru’s lips, but there’s no humor in it.

“And then what?” his voice softens, but the words weigh heavier. “You gonna outrun your own clan forever? Your duty?”

Satoru shrugs. “If I have to.” He’s grinning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

With quiet consideration, Suguru exhales, watching Satoru with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. But this time, it’s not his reflection he’s looking at. It’s him—standing there in those ceremonial robes, draping over him like chains, wearing arrogance like armor.

“You… really think it’s that simple?”

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His grin sharpens, flashing white teeth like a blade.

“Of course it is. I’m Satoru fucking Gojo.”

Though Suguru’s expression doesn’t shift, his gaze darkens, something quiet and knowing creeping into his features.

“Yeah…” he murmurs. “You are.”

“C’mon, you think they actually care?” He pauses, eyes flicking to Suguru through the mirror. “This isn’t about me. It’s about the name. The bloodline. Hell, they’d be throwing this same party for a rock if it had the Six Eyes.”

There’s a lingering silence.

Through the mirror, Satoru sees Suguru’s expression shift—his posture still loose but somehow weighted, as if each breath he takes is heavier with words unspoken. Suguru’s long raven hair falls slightly into his face, but it doesn’t quite hide the quiet strain pulling at his features.

“Damn…” Satoru exhales sharply through his nose. “You look like shit, man.”

Suguru blinks, briefly startled, before scoffing, rolling his eyes as he flicks ash into the tray beside him.

“Gee, thanks.”

But Satoru doesn’t let up. His gaze lingers, cutting through pretenses like a blade.

“No, seriously. Have you slept at all this week? ‘Cause from here, you look like you’re about to keel over.”

Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle, but it’s weak, hollow—gone before it ever really forms.

“Yeah…” he lifts the cigarette back to his lips, taking another slow drag. “I dunno. ‘m just tired.”

The ember burns bright for a moment, casting sharper shadows along his best friend’s face—deepening the lines of exhaustion—a quiet weight that Satoru’s been too busy to address. Then, clicking his tongue, Satoru focuses back to the mirror, dragging a hand through his hair with careless ease.

“You’re thinking too much again…” he mutters. “Always a bad sign.”

“Yeah, well...” Suguru exhales, smoke curling lazily around him. “Guess someone’s gotta do it.”

Quirking a brow, Satoru turns toward him fully this time.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Suguru smirks, but it’s small, faint—the kind that barely lifts the corners of his lips before disappearing altogether. As he leans back against the wooden frame of the window, his fingers tap against his arm, holding the cigarette loosely in his grip.

“What are you thinking about?” Satoru asks.

Suguru quirks a brow before he huffs, shaking his head slightly.

The silence sits heavier this time. There’s something distant in his expression—like his thoughts are a step ahead of him, somewhere neither of them can quite reach. Flicking the cigarette between his fingers, he taps ash into the tray with slow precision.

“I’m just wondering…” Suguru mutters, his voice quieter now, something careful in the way he says it. “If you weren’t who you are—would they still be kneeling at your feet?”

Satoru blinks.

“Uh. Duh.”

Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, his fingers tightening slightly around his bicep.

“No, Satoru. If you weren’t—” He stops himself, exhaling sharply through his nose, his jaw flexing slightly like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself to. Instead, he shakes his head. “Never mind…”

Satoru’s gaze narrows.

“Um. The hell was that? You can’t just say something cryptic and then drop it.”

For a moment, there’s something unspoken between them—something lingering just beneath the surface, pressing at the space between words. Then, just as quickly, Suguru’s expression smooths over. Whatever flicker of thought had been there vanishing behind an effortless, practiced mask.

“It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t.

But whatever it was, Suguru wasn’t going to say it.

Exhaling through his nose, Satoru watches him for a second longer before rolling his shoulders—shaking off the conversation entirely.

“Anyways,” he sighs, stretching his arms above his head as he strides toward the door, loose and unaffected, like he’s just heading out for a stroll instead of stepping into the weight of his legacy.

As he passes the lacquered table, his hand instinctively reaches for his sunglasses, flipping them open with a careless flick before sliding them onto the bridge of his nose.

Suguru’s gaze drags back to him, eyes lingering over the contrast of expensive, embroidered silk and dark tinted glasses. He smirks. “Doesn’t really fit the robes.”

Satoru groans, shoving his sunglasses up into his hairline before letting them drop back onto his nose.

“Tch. I know, I know. Too fucking modern for their delicate sensibilities, right?”

Suguru chuckles, putting out his cigarette. “Something like that.”

With a resigned huff, Satoru tosses the sunglasses onto the table with a clatter.

“Fine fine…” he grumbles, pausing—considering. A wicked smile curls onto his lips. “Hey… what do you think—should I blindfold myself instead and pretend I can’t find the stage? Give ‘em a little show?”

Suguru barks out a short laugh, shaking his head as he exhales.

“You’re really gonna make a fucking scene on your own celebration?”

“Oh, Suguru,” Satoru’s grin is all teeth as he makes his way toward the door. “Make a scene? When have I ever done that?”

Suguru gives him a long, slow look as he follows.

“Do you want that list alphabetically or chronologically?”

Satoru snorts. “Smartass.” He shoves the door open without hesitation. “Y’think I can piss off at least three elders before the night’s over?”

“Mm... four, if you really try.”

“That’s the spirit.”

And as Satoru steps forward—toward the weight of a legacy that meant nothing to him, Suguru lingers behind him, watching as Satoru walks ahead, carrying the world like it’s weightless.

But Suguru knows better.

He always has.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Stand up straight,” your mother murmurs quietly—so soft that only you can hear it. “And try not to stare.”

Your spine straightens instinctively, shoulders pressing back—but stare? Fuck. How can you not? The Gojo estate is unlike anything you have ever stepped foot in.

The ceilings stretch impossibly high, wooden beams arching overhead like the ribs of some celestial beast. Hand-painted fusuma panels line the walls, gold leaf catching the candlelight, depicting Kyoto’s landscapes in elegant brushstrokes. There is a stillness here—something ancient, untouched by time. Unshaken by war or weakness.

A faint trace of aged incense lingers in the air, blending with the clean scent of fresh tatami, wrapping around you like something sacred—a quiet reminder that tradition is absolute here.

The steady flow of guests direct you down the grand walkway, toward the main hall, and the air hums with low voices—silk robes rustling as elders and elite sorcerers file in, taking their assigned seats.

Assigned by status.

The highest-ranking families settle nearest to the center of the hall, where Gojo Satoru will take his place, while the lesser clans drift toward the outer edges, far enough to understand their place.

You barely register it.

Because just beyond the walkway, past a row of sliding doors left slightly open, something catches your eye.

A dojo.

Wide and open, its polished wooden floors gleam under the dim glow of candlelight. Tall, arched windows invite in the cool night air, carrying the rustling of bamboo from the gardens beyond. Along the walls, beautifully crafted bokken rest neatly in their racks beside long naginata and aged katana, their lacquered hilts gleaming faintly.

It is… perfect.

Unlike anything your own estate has ever had. A proper space for training—not the rigid, structured sessions dictated by the elders, but something freer. A place to move, to breathe, to fight.

God… it’s everything you’ve always wanted.

After all, your clan was built on precision, control, intelligence. Not raw combat. You have trained—mastered every movement drilled into you since childhood—but never were you allowed to spar without restraint. Never trained to be a sorcerer, never encouraged to fight in a way that would leave bruises—that would stain silk with sweat and blood.

You were raised to be a perfect reflection of your family, a perfect wife—that is all.

And yet, here it is. Fuck. A proper dojo—what a dream. So perfectly built for battle, yet it’s tucked into the halls of the most powerful clan in Jujutsu society, probably taken for granted as if it were nothing.

As your steps slow, you barely realize how long you’ve been staring, until you feel the lightest tug on your sleeve.

“Enough,” your mother mutters, grip light but firm.

Your heart jumps. Shit. It was one thing to observe. To admire. But it was another to linger.

“Eyes forward,” she lifts her chin, and you follow her deeper inside.

Moving ahead, the crowd shifts around you, elders and elite sorcerers weaving through the grand hall, settling into their assigned seats—but damn it. You’re still thinking about that damn dojo.

What must it be like to strike and be struck back, to train not just for form but for battle?

But your mother’s grip subtly shifts. Tightening.

Then, with the slightest turn of her head, she murmurs, “…w-what? Where did he go…”

Your breath stills as you realize, your father is no longer beside her. Glancing around, he is nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of flowing silk and quiet murmurs. But you don’t need to ask where he’s gone—you already know. And… so does she.

Despite it, she doesn’t curse. Doesn’t let her expression falter. Doesn’t break stride. But you see the way your mother’s lips press together, the way her fingers curl slightly against the sleeve of her kimono, gripping fabric like it’s the only thing she can control.

A slow, measured breath leaves her nose. Then, with a practiced ease, she smooths out the folds of her sleeve.

“Wait at your seat…” she instructs softly. “I’ll find him.”

And just like that, she is gone.

It’s not the first time.

Not the first time she’s swallowed the weight of his absence, nor the first time she’s forced herself to chase after a man who has never once stopped running. A man who dishonors her with such frequency that it no longer feels like betrayal—only expectation.

And she goes anyway. Every time.

Why?

You begin to ponder.

How many wives have had to smile through disgrace, bound by duty to men who do not see them? How many have sat in silence, enduring the quiet disintegration of a marriage, knowing their suffering is only theirs to bear?

The thought lingers as you move toward your assigned seat, your steps slow, lost in quiet contemplation. You barely register the way silk brushes against you, the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows across the polished floors.

“You’re in my seat.”

The words are crisp. Clipped.

You barely have time to process them before the weight of who they belong to settles in your chest like stone. Glancing up, your stomach drops.

Shit.

You’ve sat in the wrong seat.

Not just any seat.

His seat.

Gojo Hajime.

An elder of the Gojo clan. A man whose presence alone commands respect and caution in equal measure. His reputation is built upon unforgiving discipline, a fierce advocate for upholding the hierarchy that governs jujutsu society. You have seen how lesser-ranked sorcerers bow deeper in his presence, how his voice alone is enough to quiet a whole fucking room.

And you—you—have just taken his seat.

You should apologize. Immediately. Stand, lower your head, bow so deeply your knees kiss the floor—but you don’t even get the chance. Because the moment your lips part, his voice cuts through the air again.

“How disgraceful.”

The murmurs start immediately. Soft at first. Rippling outward.

A misplaced seat is not just an accident—it is an insult. A disruption to the hierarchy, an unspoken challenge to status. And it is not just your mistake—it is your family’s.

Eyes begin to turn.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, panic coiling tight in your stomach. You can feel the weight of scrutiny, the silent condemnation pressing against your skin like needles. But just as the tension threatens to crack open, before you can even move, before you can correct your mistake—

“Damn,” a voice cuts in. “I didn’t know we had assigned seats based on grumpiness. If that’s the case, maybe we oughta scoot you a little further up, gramps.”

The murmurs die instantly. A ripple of silk as heads turn, a breath caught collectively in the throats of the room.

Because everyone knows that voice.

Gojo Satoru.

And when you finally force yourself to look, when you finally shift your gaze toward the source of your salvation, you find yourself staring into the bluest damn eyes you’ve ever seen.

They are a color not meant for this world—icy, piercing, almost otherworldly under the flickering candlelight. Not simply blue, but something deeper, something endless, like the sky when it stretches too far, too high, too unreachable.

And then, just as effortlessly, he drops into the seat beside you.

“Hope ya don’t mind if I sit here, gramps,” he sighs, propping his chin against his palm with a lazy grin. “Since, y’know… you’re already standing.”

The elder bristles.

“Gojo-sama…” he says slowly, voice strained. “Seats are assigned with purpose.”

Satoru exhales loudly, stretching his neck. “Right, right,” he drawls. “And lemme guess—some dusty old men in a room decided where everyone sits?”

“The council—”

“Right, right,” he interjects, waving a dismissive hand. “The same council that decided I needed to wear this stiff-ass robe tonight.” He tugs at the embroidered silk draped over his shoulders for emphasis before flashing a sharp grin. “Real forward thinkers, those guys.”

A flicker of disbelief passes over the elder’s face.

Satoru hums, tapping his fingers idly against the table. “Tell ya what… since I’m feeling generous tonight, how ‘bout we just let it slide? Y’know, pretend we’re not wasting all this energy over a damn seat?” He leans back, stretching his arms over his head, his voice dropping to something lower, lazier. “Unless, of course, you’d rather keep arguing with me in front of all these lovely guests? On my birthday, need I remind you?”

The words are spoken lightly, casually, but there’s an underlying challenge in them—something daring, something edged with amusement, as if he already knows how this will end.

And the elder does, too. Because what can he say? What will he do? It’s a battle he can’t win. Not against the strongest.

A long breath drags through his nose before he bows his head stiffly.

“…as you wish, Gojo-sama.”

Satoru grins, entirely pleased with himself. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

With that, the elder moves stiffly to another seat, the murmurs gradually settling into quiet acceptance, though you can still feel the lingering weight of curious glances thrown your way.

And finally—finally—your lungs remember how to breathe.

You should say something. Thank him. But before you can, Satoru turns his attention to you, tilting his head slightly, that easy smirk still curving his lips.

“There,” his fingers play idly with a tousle of your hair, letting it twirl between his grasp. “A lady of your caliber deserves the best seat in the house, don’t y’think?”

You blink, still caught between lingering panic and something dangerously close to awe.

Because just like that, with a grin and a few well-placed words, he had made a mockery of the entire situation. Had turned the weight of expectation into something trivial, something meaningless.

Had made defiance look so damn effortless. And for the first time tonight, you wonder what it would be like to live that freely.

Satoru watches you, head tilted slightly, as if waiting for something. Amusement flickers in those ridiculously bright eyes, sharp and unreadable beneath the flickering candlelight.

You realize then—you haven’t said a word.

Shit.

Heat pricks at the back of your neck. You force yourself to blink, to breathe, to gather the scattered remains of your dignity before finally managing, “…oh, um… t-thank you, Gojo-sama.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Ugh. Don’t do that.”

You blink. “…do what?”

“That whole ‘Gojo-sama’ thing. Bleh.” He scrunches his nose, expression twisted in exaggerated distaste. “You make me sound old.”

You hesitate, caught between confusion and amusement. “But… you’re the Clan Head now.”

He groans dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

Your lips twitch, just barely suppressing a laugh, and his gaze flickers to you at that, something playful sparking in his eyes. Leaning in slightly, his elbows rest on the low table, voice dropping to something conspiratorial.

“You wouldn’t believe how many speeches I’ve had to sit through already. I swear, they’ve been reciting my life story like I’m some kind of historical relic.”

You raise a brow. “…aren’t you?”

Satoru gasps, clutching his chest like you just struck him. “Wow. The betrayal.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you finally allow a small laugh to slip out.

“I… didn’t mean it like that.”

“Uh-huh.” He squints at you in mock suspicion before his lips stretch back into an easy grin. “Alright, I’ll let that one slide, since I like you.”

Your stomach does a strange little flip.

It’s nothing… right? Just the nerves. The residual stress from earlier. The weight of too many eyes lingering in the periphery.

But as he watches you—head tilting slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out—you don’t know what the hell to say. And yet… you also find yourself not wanting to look away.

Because Satoru Gojo is beautiful. Undeniably.

He is elegance without effort, arrogance without apology, a man who moves through the world like it was built to accommodate him. His snowy-white hair is a tousled mess, catching silver beneath the candlelight, framing the sharp angles of his jaw, the high curve of his cheekbones, the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

And his eyes—God, his eyes.

They aren’t just blue. They’re endless. A shade too sharp, too striking—like fractured gemstones, like glacial ice catching the light at just the right angle. They don’t just see, they consume, pulling you in as if the whole fucking world just disappears when he looks at you.

What the hell are you supposed to say to him?

Shit. You’re lingering again. Your mother would curse you for this. You should speak—say something, anything. But the words never come.

Luckily, you don’t have to figure it out.

Because just then, a sharp chime rings through the grand hall, signaling the start of the formal ceremony. A ripple of movement stirs through the guests as heads turn toward the center of the room, where the elders begin to take their places.

Satoru exhales, stretching his arms overhead in a lazy arc. “Guess that’s my cue.”

He rises smoothly, adjusting the heavy silk of his robes with little care, as if he’s already bored of the whole affair. But then—before stepping away—he casts you one last glance, that ever-present grin still playing at the edges of his lips.

“See ya around, sweetheart.”

And then, like this entire night is nothing more than a game to him, he waves, casting you a playful wink. Casual. Effortless. Like you’re old friends. Like this moment, fleeting as it is, belongs to just the two of you—despite the dozens of eyes still lingering in your direction.

And, without hesitation, he turns, stepping toward the center of the room, where the weight of his legacy awaits him.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

The ceremony is exactly what Satoru expected—long, tedious, and filled with more self-important speeches than he cares to count. The elders take turns praising the significance of his ascension, the legacy he carries, the burden he must now bear.

As if he doesn’t already fucking know. As if the weight of the Gojo name hasn’t pressed against his spine since the moment he was born.

He stands at the center of it all, a crownless king in layered silk, his every move watched, measured, and judged by the dozens of expectant faces surrounding him.

Whatever. Let them say whatever they want.

Because at the end of the day—he is still Gojo Satoru. And they can dress him up in their finest robes, seat him at the highest throne, weigh him down with the expectations of an entire clan—but they can’t make him care.

And they know it.

So, when the speeches end and the ritual formalities dissolve into something more palatable—celebration, sake, music—the real scheming begins.

The moment the first note is played, an elder clears his throat. Satoru doesn’t even look up.

“We have taken the liberty of selecting your first dance, Gojo-sama,” the man says, hands folded neatly in his sleeves, the picture of diplomatic grace. “She is from a highly esteemed bloodline. A perfect candidate for marriage and—”

Satoru groans. Loudly.

“Oh, come on.” He drags a hand down his face, tilting his head back like this entire conversation physically pains him. “You’re really pulling the marriage card already? I just fucking turned eighteen.”

The elder’s expression doesn’t shift. Doesn’t falter. They’ve played this game with him before. They know Gojo Satoru only bends when it suits him.

“We must get ahead of things. And it is tradition for the head of the Gojo Clan to take his first dance with a suitable partner—”

“Right, right.” Satoru waves a dismissive hand, eyes scanning the room for anything more interesting than this conversation. “And lemme guess—she’s got a nice lineage, proper manners, and the personality of a wet napkin?”

A pause as the elder clears his throat. Yeah. That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Satoru exhales, shaking his head, fingers drumming lazily against the lacquered armrest of his chair.

“Yeah… I think I’ll pass,” he’s rising from his seat as the elder begins ushering a poised, graceful young woman towards him—clad in silk, the color of cherry blossoms.

Satoru doesn’t even look at her.

He’s looking for an escape, and as his eyes sweep the crowd, he sees you.

The girl from earlier.

And just like that, his mind is made up.

Before the elder can say another word, before the girl can step any closer, Satoru moves.

Not toward her.

Toward you.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Dance with me.”

You blink, gaze dropping to his hand, extended toward you, palm open, fingers relaxed.

It’s not a request.

It’s a decision.

A disruption—a defiance of everything expected of him.

And the room knows it.

The air seems to tighten, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as hushed murmurs flicker between the guests, silk rustling as heads turn. The weight of attention presses against your skin, heavier than the finest-woven kimono, heavier than the eyes of your parents, now fixed on you, unreadable.

Your lips part slightly, but no words come. Fuck. You should at least breathe. But you don’t. You can’t. Your mind is barely processing what the fuck is happening.

Then, a quiet but pointed sound—your mother clearing her throat beside you.

“She would love to.”

Her voice is soft, but firm, a smooth, graceful assertion that leaves no room for question. A response crafted not for you, but for those watching, those weighing this moment, those who will whisper about it long after the night ends. Because this is not just a dance. This is a spectacle. A shift in the script carefully written for the evening.

And your mother knows that. To refuse would be foolish. To hesitate would be disgraceful. To accept, however—

An honor.

So, when she turns toward you, offering the smallest, most practiced of smiles, you understand her meaning entirely.

You will dance with Satoru Gojo.

With a breath you weren’t aware you had been holding, you glance back toward him. He’s watching you, amusement flickering in those impossibly blue eyes, that lazy, knowing grin still curling at his lips.

“See?” he hums. “Mother knows best.”

You don’t know what possesses you—perhaps the weight of expectation, or perhaps something else entirely—but your hand lifts. Fingers barely brushing against his before he takes it completely, enclosing it in a grasp that is warm, steady, unwavering.

And just like that, he pulls you into the center of the room.

Into the center of everything.

His grip is firm but unhurried as he leads you, like none of this is a big deal. Like he hasn’t just overturned an entire evening’s worth of careful tradition.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, your breath barely finding its way back into your lungs as you let him guide you into position. One of his hands settles lightly at your waist, the other still holding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Relax,” he murmurs, just low enough for only you to hear. “You’re stiffer than my old kendo instructor.”

You huff, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm against yours. “I—this is just… unexpected.”

Exhaling dramatically, he spins you effortlessly into the first steps of dance. “Tell me about it,” he groans. “You just saved me from another goddamn elder trying to shove some proper young lady into my arms.”

You blink. “What?”

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, twirling you smoothly before pulling you back into his grasp. “The matchmaking schemers are working overtime tonight. Bet they’re seething right now.”

You stifle a laugh. “So… you picked me out of spite?”

“I picked you because you looked like you needed saving too.” His eyes flicker toward you, sharp but warm, like he’s seeing straight through you.

You hesitate. He’s… not wrong.

“Well… my mother was about to give me a very long lecture about decorum,” you admit quietly.

His grin widens as he hums. “Guess that makes me your knight in shining silk, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbling in your chest betrays you.

Satoru’s grip shifts slightly, his hand pressing just a fraction firmer against your waist as he leads you through another step. He moves so effortlessly, like the weight of expectation never touches him, like the rules of this world bend just for him.

For a moment, the heaviness in the air fades.

For a moment, you almost forget the crowd watching.

For a moment… it’s just the two of you.

As the melody slows—the last few notes stretch through the grand hall like a fading breath—you barely register the shifting of the crowd around you. It feels like the world has shrunk.

And then, stillness. The dance is over.

You should step away. You should let go.

But Satoru lingers.

His fingers remain curled lightly around yours, as if he’s forgotten to let go—or maybe he just doesn’t feel like doing so yet. His touch is warm, steady, and entirely too deliberate for someone who seems to take nothing seriously.

As his gaze drops to your hand for a fraction of a second, his smirk deepens, something unreadable flashing in those impossible blue eyes. Then, with a casual ease—like it’s the most natural thing in the world—he lifts your hand slightly and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

Soft. Unhurried.

Barely a brush of his lips against your skin, but enough to send something fluttering wildly in your stomach.

Damn him.

You feel it everywhere—the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his hold lingers a second too long before he finally lets go. When your hand drops back to your side, it’s still tingling from the contact, and you know you should say something, but your tongue feels too damn heavy in your mouth again.

Satoru, however, looks perfectly at ease, like he hadn’t just turned your world sideways with a single fleeting kiss. Still, the moment stretches—something about it feels… different. A beat too long, a silence that carries something unspoken.

But when he shifts, the moment simmers away as he turns his head slightly, his attention suddenly caught by something beyond you. Or, someone.

Geto Suguru. His best friend.

His posture loosens as he exhales through his nose, casting you a final glance. “Well, sweetheart,” he drawls lazily, taking a step back. “Hate to dance and dash, but duty calls.”

And just like before, he lifts a hand in that same casual wave, and winks—slipping back into the crowd with the ease of someone who has done this a hundred times before.

Following his gaze, you look just past the cluster of mingling sorcerers, at the figure leaning lazily against one of the wooden pillars. His dark long hair falls across his shoulders, his arms are folded neatly into the side sleeves of his yukata, and his eyes are half-lidded, bored.

Satoru reaches him in just a few strides, and whatever the two of them exchange is lost to you beneath the hum of the room—but they’re laughing, at ease.

Exhaling slowly, you force your trembling hands to steady at your sides, your racing heart to settle, remembering where you are. Because the world moves on. The music starts anew. The guests return to their conversations.

But you don’t. Not yet.

Because this—this is something you’ll remember. The night you first met Gojo Satoru.

The night you first saw him for who he was—not just the head of the Gojo Clan, not just the strongest, but something untouchable, something defiant. Something free.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of you will always hold onto that moment.

A moment you wish you could claim for yourself.

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

Seven years have passed since that night. Seven years since the weight of an entire clan was draped over his shoulders like a silk noose.

Gojo Satoru is still the strongest, still the untouchable ruler of the Gojo Clan, but the years have done little to change the one thing the elders have always hated about him—he refuses to be controlled.

But their patience is wearing thin.

The moment he steps into the council chamber, Satoru already knows he’s going to hate every second of this.

Same old stiff-ass room, same old stiff-ass elders. The walls lined with painted screens depicting wars won centuries ago, incense burning in the background like it’s meant to cleanse him of his sins or some shit. He exhales loudly, rolling his shoulders back, then strolls forward with all the urgency of a man walking to his own execution.

Dropping lazily onto the tatami, Satoru lets out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” he drawls, popping his neck with a slow tilt of his head. “Let’s hear it. What crime have I committed this time?”

A tense silence follows.

Gojo Hiroshi, the eldest of the council, lets out a long, deliberate sigh, his sharp gaze steady beneath thick silver brows. “Your inappropriate conduct has reached our ears again.”

Satoru smirks. “Oh? I’ve got fans? You geezers keeping tabs on me now?”

His words are met with cold, unimpressed stares.

“You mustn’t treat this as a joke,” another elder chimes in, voice lined with restrained patience. “Your recklessness is a stain upon our clan’s legacy.”

Satoru scoffs. “Recklessness? I’m pretty sure I’ve saved more lives than any of you sitting here. Y’know, by doing my actual job.”

“The strongest should not act so carelessly,” Hiroshi cuts in. “And yet, all you do is goof off. Throwing yourself around, jumping from woman to woman, acting like some common fool—”

Satoru groans loudly, tipping his head back with a dramatic sigh. “God, is this really about me having a good time? I hate to break it to ya, old man, but I’m twenty-five, not fifty. Maybe if you all had a little fun in your youth, you wouldn’t be so damn uptight.”

The closest elder levels him with a stern glare. “We have tolerated your… indulgences long enough.”

“You speak of a ‘good time’,” another elder continues, fingers steepled together. “But you must consider the future. This—this frivolity—must end.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, tapping his fingers lazily against his knee. “Yeah? And just where are ya gettin’ at, gramps?”

Silence. A slow exchange of glances between them.

Satoru watches as they silently decide who will be the one to say it. They always do this. Always sit in their stiff little circles, acting like their words carry the weight of gods.

Finally, Hiroshi exhales, slow and measured, before speaking.

“The next leader of the Gojo Clan must be born.”

There it is.

Satoru lets out a slow, exaggerated breath, tilting his head back. “Man… you guys really need a new hobby.”

“We have been patient,” Hiroshi continues, ignoring him. “But the time for childish defiance is over.”

Satoru’s lips twitch. Childish? He could wipe this entire damn room off the map if he wanted. Not that he would, though—he’s mostly reasonable.

An elder shifts slightly, fingers curling over the edge of a plain, unassuming folder resting beneath his palm, and as Satoru’s gaze flicks to it, recognition flares.

Ugh. Not this bullshit again.

This isn’t new. He knows what’s inside. A folder full of names. A folder of candidates—eligible women, bloodlines deemed strong enough, clans deemed worthy. A relic of a past he never fucking asked for.

His irritation spikes as he begins to rise.

“Yeah, so… fuck this. I’m gonna stop ya right there—”

“You will sit down, Satoru.”

The words are sharp. Final. Satoru freezes mid-step, the weight behind them pressing like a blade against his spine.

The fucking audacity. A command? A fucking order?!

Exhaling through his nose, he bites back the burn of frustration clawing up his throat. “Nah,” he mutters, waving a dismissive hand as he turns on his heel. “Fuck off.”

“The next leader of the Gojo Clan must be born.”

Satoru stops.

A slow laugh bubbles up from his chest—sharp, humorless, before turning back to face them. Tilting his head, an icy chill threads his voice.

“Let me get this fucking straight. You dragged me all the way here, wasted my precious time, just to tell me I need to knock someone up? Wow.” He lets out a sharp whistle, slowly clapping his hands together in mock awe. “Out of all of your excuses, this one takes the fucking cake.”

“You fail to take this seriously,” Hiroshi’s voice is quieter than the others, but heavier in its own way. “You never have.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. “Maybe because I don’t need to. I’m the strongest, remember?”

“And yet,” Hiroshi exhales, “even the strongest will one day fall.”

The words settle in the air like a foregone truth. Satoru doesn’t flinch. But something in his jaw ticks, barely perceptible.

Even the strongest will one day fall.

He hates the way those words burrow under his skin, clawing at something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“You refuse to take a wife. You refuse to consider the future,” Hiroshi continues, voice steady. “You’ve left us no choice. And so, we have taken it upon ourselves to make the choice for you. Marriage arrangements are already in place.”

Satoru’s brow furrows—a seething rage building underneath his skin. Pulling down his blindfold in a slow, deliberate movement, he reveals the impossible, piercing blue of his Six Eyes.

“Excuse me?”

The air shifts, thickening under the weight of power, of warning—of a challenge.

For a moment, all he can hear is the rush of his own blood in his ears. And then, just beneath the suffocating weight of his own fury, another voice cuts through.

‘You gonna outrun your own clan forever? Your duty?’

A memory. A voice.

Suguru.

The words hit him like a hammer, striking something raw, something he thought he buried a long time ago.

Geto Suguru.

His best friend. His brother. The one person who had ever truly understood him. The only person who could ever match him step for step, thought for thought.

The person he lost. A man who had abandoned all right or reason. Who had turned his back on everything. On Jujutsu High. On their ideals. On him.

And suddenly, the weight of it all presses heavier on Satoru’s shoulders. It feels suffocating. Because for the first time in years, something inside him wavers. And damnit… that pisses him off.

With a sharp step forward, Satoru’s hand snatches the folder from the table in one swift motion, the rustle of paper slicing through the silence like a blade.

The room tenses as he flips it open, eyes scanning the pages, the names, the faces—the future they’ve decided for him.

As he goes through its contents, a folder he’s seen often but never truly looked into, he realizes it’s exactly what he expected—polished profiles, lists of pedigreed women, hand-selected for their bloodlines, their breeding, their usefulness.

Every file reads the same.

Perfect posture. Proper etiquette. Skilled in traditional arts. Fluent in tea ceremonies. Raised to serve, obey, bear children.

Gross.

His brow furrows in irritation as he skims through the neatly cataloged qualities, as if he’s browsing a fucking menu.

Expert in tea ceremonies. Elegant calligraphy. Well-versed in ikebana.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, he flips to the next file with a flick of his wrist.

Gentle temperament. Raised to uphold family honor. Culinary excellence.

Jesus.

It’s all the same.

Not a single original thought, not a single fucking thing that isn’t meant to mold them into perfect little wives and mothers.

Satoru’s fingers twitch as disgust curls up his throat.

What? Is he supposed to just pick one, put a ring on her, fuck her like some obligation? Breed an heir with a woman whose only defining trait is knowing how to arrange flowers?

Tch.

He’s already itching to slam the folder shut and walk out of this room, consequences be damned.

But then—he halts. His gaze briefly catching on a familiar face.

You.

A picture clipped neatly to your file, just like all the others, but something about it makes him pause.

He knows you… right?

Or—at least, you look somewhat familiar.

Satoru has slept with countless women, but he’s pretty damn sure he’d remember if you were one of them. Plus… you’re a virgin, according to your file, so… that can’t be it.

He scans the page with mild curiosity, barely reading at first—and low and behold, it’s another list of fucking perfect traits designed to impress him.

Cooking. Baking. Floral arrangements.

Right. Of course. Same as the rest.

But then, his eyes flick lower.

Martial arts.

His brow lifts.

Huh. Now that’s new.

Shifting his weight, his gaze lingers on that one detail.You practice martial arts? Interesting.

The corner of his lips twitch, intrigue curling at the edges of his amusement as he flips through the rest of your file—skimming for anything else that isn’t some prim manufactured selling point.

Not much stands out amongst the crowd, expect that, yeah, you’re hot too. That certainly doesn’t hurt.

If they’re really forcing him to do this shit—if he really has to fuck a woman and produce an heir—he’s at least going to pick someone who can actually hold his attention. Hell, if he has to fuck her, she better be someone who can at least get his dick up.

Exhaling through his nose, his eyes flicker back up to the elders, their bated breaths held with anticipation.

“…fine,” he mutters, “I’ll marry.”

A ripple of movement shifts immediately—a murmur of approval.

“But.” His voice cuts through their satisfaction like a knife. “Cancel whatever bullshit arrangement you had planned.” His Six Eyes gleam as his gaze flickers up, sharp, glacial. “If I’m doing this,” he exhales, voice smooth as glass, “I’m doing it my way.”

And with that, he slams the folder down, open with a photo of you.

“I at least want a say in who the fuck I’m picking,” he mutters, voice cool, final. Then, his gaze flickers up. A smirk—sharp and defiant—curls at the corner of his lips. “So… there ya have it. I pick her.”

A beat of silence. Then another.

Satoru watches as the elders’ expressions shift as they take in your photo, their brows knitting together, their lips pressing into thin, disapproving lines. There’s something unspoken between them—hesitation. Uncertainty.

Jesus Christ... what now?

His fingers tap idly against the table, impatience curling at the edges of his composure. Rolling his eyes, he exhales sharply before plopping back down onto the tatami. 

“What?”  his irritation spikes, gaze flickering between the stiff-ass old men. “You gonna tell me she’s not good enough? That her tea ceremony etiquette isn’t up to your impossible fucking standards? She was in your folder!”

Silence.

Then, Gojo Hiroshi clears his throat.

“There is… history.” His words are careful, measured. “With her clan.”

Satoru lifts a brow, unimpressed. “Okay… and?”

A flicker of unease passes between the elders.

“Satoru,” another speaks, voice steady, placating. “Clan politics are not so simple—”

He scoffs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You think I give a shit about clan politics?”

More exchanged glances. More unreadable expressions. But Hiroshi remains still.

“It is not just politics…” he finally says, gaze unwavering. “There was a… scandal.”

Satoru exhales, fingers pausing mid-drum.

God, he fucking hates when people beat around the bush. His patience is wearing thin. He agreed, didn’t he? What the hell more do they want?

“Scandal?” he echoes, voice flat, uninterested. “Oh, let me guess. Daddy lost a business deal? Mommy hosted the wrong kind of dinner party? Spare me.”

A slow breath.

“…her family has been outcasted.”

A pause.

“Disgraced,” another adds. “Stripped of their status. They have nothing. They live in ruin.”

Arching a brow, Satoru lets the silence linger—lets them wait for him to grasp the supposed severity of the situation.

But he doesn’t give a shit about status.

He just wants these crusty old men off his back, and your folder was the least boring in that entire damn stack.

“…and?” his voice is flat. “I fail to see what the fuck any of this has to do with me. She was in your folder. That’s who I pick.”

The tension thickens as the air feels heavier. The elders remain silent, exchanging glances, waiting for him to finally understand—to realize what he’s signing up for.

Hiroshi is the one to finally speak.

“She comes with nothing now, Satoru,” his tone’s heavier now. “She was a suitable candidate… yes. But now? She has no wealth. No influence. Her mother is drowning in debt. If you choose her, you will be marrying into ruin.”

Satoru groans, loudly, dragging a hand down his face. He’s so fucking tired of this conversation. With a sigh, he rises, reaching into his pocket for his blindfold.

“You old geezers really think I give a shit about money?” he mutters, shaking out the fabric before sliding it over his eyes slowly—like he’s already disengaging from the conversation. “God, you’re all so dramatic. I’m loaded. Who fucking cares.”

“Satoru—”

“I said I’d marry. It’s her or nothing,” his voice is final, unwavering.

The folder snaps shut in his hands, the sharp sound slicing through the hushed tension. A flick of his wrist sends it skidding back across the polished table.

“So, there you have it. Call her mother, we’ll draft an arrangement.”

A ripple of unease shifts through the council, their stiff expressions unreadable. Hiroshi’s brow knits. “An arrangement?”

Satoru exhales, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms overhead like this entire conversation has physically exhausted him.

“Yup.” His fingers splay lazily as he waves a hand through the air, tone entirely too casual. “I’ll pay off their debts. In return, she marries me. Win-win. There. Easy.”

Then, that smirk—cocky, taunting—pulls at his lips as he leans back, tipping his chin up in mock amusement.

“Anyways. Good talk.” He pauses. “Sooo… uh. We done?”

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

“Eat.”

The command is soft but firm, breaking the silence that has stretched too long across the small table before you.

Your mother sits across from you, poised as ever, lifting her chopsticks with careful precision, plucking a small piece of tofu from her bowl. The once-pristine silk of her kimono has dulled with time, its ivory threads faded from wear, from struggle. But she wears it the same way she always has—with quiet dignity, spine straight, hands resting carefully in her lap, an image of control that nothing—not scandal, not exile—has managed to break.

She doesn’t look up as she speaks to you once more.

“You’re staring at your food again.”

You don’t remember the last time dinner felt this quiet.

Well, at least not this kind of quiet. This quiet is… different.

It’s not the quiet like when your father was still here—sitting where your mother is now, tapping idly at his phone, barely listening as you spoke about your day. Not like the quiet nights when he would come home late—smelling of perfume that didn’t belong to your mother.

Not like the quiet night he left—walking out the door, taking everything with him.

A soft clink pulls you back—the sound of your mother setting her chopsticks down with slow, deliberate care. When you lift your eyes, she is already watching you, her expression as unreadable as ever.

“You must eat.”

Picking up the chopsticks, your fingers feel stiff against the smooth wood. The miso soup in front of you has gone lukewarm, its thin broth barely fragrant, stretched with water to make it last longer. A meal meant to sustain, not satisfy.

“I’m… not hungry.”

Your mother doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t frown. She simply takes another bite of her meal, chewing with quiet deliberation before dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“A weakened body leads to a weakened mind,” she murmurs. “You cannot afford to be careless with your health.”

You don’t roll your eyes, but damnit, the urge is there.

Even now, she speaks in lessons, in discipline. As if you still had a name to uphold, a family to represent. As if any of that mattered anymore.

Frustration coils in your stomach, tight and twisting, but you don’t let it show. Because she won’t. She never has.

Not even the night he left.

You still remember it—the way your mother stood there, unmoving, as your father walked out the door. No screaming. No pleading. No chasing after the man who had stolen everything from her, from you.

Just stillness. A quiet that swallowed everything—a quiet that never fucking leaves.

And then, the fallout.

The scandal that burned through the clan like wildfire. The disgrace. The exile. The slow, agonizing unraveling of everything you once knew.

You swallow hard, forcing the thoughts down, lifting your chopsticks to take a bite.

Because your mother doesn’t dwell on the past. She doesn’t even acknowledge it.

And so, neither do you.

Suddenly, a sharp ring slices through the air.

Your mother stills—her gaze lingering on the telephone for a moment before she moves, rising to her feet with effortless grace, lifting the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

As she silently listens to whoever’s on the other line, her shoulders stiffen. It’s subtle, but you see it. The faint tightening of her jaw. The way her fingers curl around the receiver, gripping it just a fraction tighter than necessary.

“I see…”

Another pause.

“Yes. Understood.”

The quiet click of the receiver settling into its cradle echoes through the small room, and you study your mother for a moment as she remains still—motionless.

“…mother?”

When she turns, something flickers in her eyes. Not worry. Not resignation. Something else. Something you haven’t seen in years.

Hope.

“…we have been summoned.”

Smoothing down the fabric of her kimono, she settles back at the table—smiling serenely.

You blink. “Oh… okay. By who?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

༻༺ꨄ༻༺

A familiar weight settles over your shoulders as you step past the towering gates of the Gojo estate. It’s been so long since you last walked these halls, and yet you still remember the first time, seven years ago—the grand ceilings stretching impossibly high, the golden glow of lantern light against hand-painted fusuma panels, the hushed murmurs of Kyoto’s elite.

Now, as you pass through the inner courtyard, it is just as intimidating as you remember.

Just as breathtaking.

A servant bows low, silently ushering you toward the tea room, leading both you and your mother in graceful step. As the entrance nears, her voice breaks the silence.

“You will be on your best behavior,” she murmurs, not unkind, but firm.

Right… as if you needed the reminder.

Stepping inside, the tatami mats barely creak under your careful steps, and the scent of incense greets you first—rich, woody, cloying. A low table sits at its center, the lacquered wood polished to perfection, a ceremonial tea set already in place. And across from it, seated with an unmistakable air of ease, is him.

Gojo Satoru.

Even draped in expensive silk—his robes stitched with the distinguished colors of his clan—he carries himself with an irreverence that clashes against the rigid atmosphere of the room. One arm rests against the table, the other draped carelessly over his knee. His blindfold is absent, and for the first time in seven years, you once again meet those impossibly blue eyes head-on.

“Ah, there she is,” he hums, lips curling into a lazy grin. “Thought I was getting stood up.”

Your mother clears her throat pointedly, bowing in greeting. You quickly follow suit, the practiced motion ingrained in you.

“Gojo-sama,” she says smoothly, “it is an honor to be welcomed into your home.”

Satoru waves a dismissive hand, leaning back. “Yeah, yeah. Big honor. Let’s skip the formalities, huh?”

Seated around the table, the elders watch the exchange in silence, their presence heavy, suffocating. You recognize Gojo Hiroshi among them—his sharp, assessing gaze narrowing on you briefly.

Oh… awkward.

Is he still mad about his seat?

Hiroshi exhales, dragging his gaze to your mother. “We will discuss the terms of the arrangement in the study,” he says, voice calm, measured. “In the meantime, Gojo-sama and his intended should use this opportunity to… familiarize themselves.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, Satoru sighs—stretching his arms with a dramatic groan. “Right. Tea ceremonies. My favorite.”

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, your mother gives you a knowing glance, a silent reminder—behave.

And then, with a final bow, she follows the elders as they shuffle toward the adjoining room, their hushed voices retreating beyond the sliding doors. The quiet click of wood sliding echoes in the stillness, leaving just the two of you.

Alone with Gojo Satoru.

A familiar weight settles in your chest, something tight, uncertain. His gaze lingers—not scrutinizing, not cold, but assessing. And God, he’s just as beautiful as you remember him. Too beautiful. The same easy confidence. The same impossibly blue eyes that seem to pierce through everything.

You’ve always held onto that feeling from the first time you met him—what was it, exactly? Admiration?

“Well,” Satoru exhales, stretching his legs slightly beneath the table. “Guess it’s just us now.”

Something about the way he says it makes your tummy clench. Is that the admiration? Fuck, whatever. You know what this meeting is supposed to be. A display of grace, a demonstration of propriety. A wife’s first duty to her husband-to-be.

And so, you inhale, slow and controlled—reaching for the tea set.

“Care for some tea?” you murmur, lifting the delicate porcelain into your fingertips, moving through the familiar, measured motions of ceremony. Of tradition.

Lifting the teapot with both hands, you tilt it just so, allowing the warm liquid to pour in an elegant arc, no wasted movement, no hesitation. The way you were taught. The way it has always been.

Then, with just as much care, you offer it to him, your gaze respectfully lowered.

“Please… enjoy.”

With an unreadable expression, Satoru’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the cup from your hands. Exhaling through his nose, his eyes flicker down at the tea, before taking a slow sip.

There is an unnerving silence.

“Is it… to your liking?”

“Uh…” he shrugs, flashing a boyish grin. “Tastes like tea?”

You blink.

What are you supposed to say to that?

A growing nervousness flutters in your chest. Your mother is depending on you—don’t fuck this up. Nodding, your hands fold neatly in your lap as you recite the lines of tradition.

“It is an honor to serve you, Gojo-sama. May this tea be a reflection of the harmony I hope to uphold in our union.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then—Satoru laughs. Not a small chuckle. Not polite amusement. Full-bodied, head-tilted-back laughter.

It startles you, your body tensing at the sound as he sets his cup onto the table and doubles over, catching his breath between chuckles.

You stiffen. What the hell was so funny?

“…did I say something amusing?” you ask carefully.

Satoru waves a hand, shaking his head as he wipes beneath his eyes. “No, no. It’s just… wow. You really went full perfect wife mode, huh?”

Your brows pull together slightly. “Yes… well. It is only proper to conduct myself with—”

“Yeeeah… let’s not,” he waves a hand, leaning forward slightly, arms folding over the table. “You don’t have to do that with me, y’know.”

You hesitate. “Do… what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely at you, expression amused but pointed. “The stiff politeness, the whole ‘it is an honor to serve you’ thing. Jeez… feels like I’m at another meeting with the elders.”

You blink, your fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “But… this is a formal arrangement.”

He hums, tapping a long finger against the porcelain cup. “Yeah, but we’re also people… aren’t we?”

His words catch you off guard.

People.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been allowed to simply be that—just a person. Not an heiress, not a proper wife, not a disgraced daughter in need of redemption.

You glance at him, at Gojo Satoru, and suddenly… he doesn’t feel so unreachable.

Oh…

He’s the same as you remember—the man who saved you seven years ago. The one who made defiance look so effortless, so free.

Perhaps… with him, you can breathe. Live freely.

Shifting slightly, your fingers relax in your lap.

“…Very well,” you murmur. “Then how would you prefer I speak to you, Gojo-sama?”

Satoru exhales dramatically, tilting his head to the side. “Well for starters, drop the ‘Gojo-sama’ thing. Hate that.”

You bite back a smile. “It’s a title of respect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves a hand. “But every time you say it, I feel like I need to go yell at some underlings or something. I’m twenty-five, not fucking ancient.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “Alright… what should I call you then?”

He grins. “Just Satoru s’good.”

“…mmkay,” you hesitate for a moment. “Satoru, then.”

His smile widens, pleased.

“Perfect.” He leans forward slightly, resting his chin against his palm, one long finger tapping against the table. “Now… be honest. You don’t actually like this crap, do you?”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely at the tea set, the meticulously arranged porcelain, the lingering scent of incense curling in the air. “All this traditional, stiff-ass, sit-in-silence tea ceremony nonsense.”

Your fingers clench slightly in your lap. “It’s… important.”

Satoru hums, unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. But do you like it?”

You hesitate. It’s a simple question. A stupid one, even. But for some reason, it feels… foreign. Like no one has ever asked before. You should say yes. It would be the correct answer. The proper one.

“…it’s familiar,” you settle on.

Satoru hums again, watching you closely. “That’s not a yes.”

Looking down at the tea in front of you, a quiet weight settles in your chest. Then—he leans back with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Sooo… whadda say we ditch?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I mean, c’mon,” he groans, tilting his head to the side like this is the most obvious thing in the world. “This is boring as hell. You don’t actually wanna sit here drinking tea all day, right?”

You lift a brow. “But… isn’t this what the elders want?”

Satoru’s grin turns sharp. Mischievous.

“Yeah, and I like pissing them off,” his voice dips slightly as he shifts closer. “So… let’s try something.”

He pats his lap. Once. Twice.

“C’mere,” he says, lazily.

You stare—heat rising up your neck, your fingers gripping the fabric in your lap.

“…what?”

Satoru lifts a brow. “What?” he echoes, with a grin. Then, he pats his thigh again, nonchalant. “You heard me. C’mere. Sit.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Then open it again. “Erm… how does… this have anything to do with ditching?”

“Hmm… maybe, it doesn’t.” Satoru shrugs, lips curling at the edges. “Maybe I just wanna see if you’ll do it.”

A pause. Your stomach flips. Your pulse skips. Your brain is screaming at you. This is improper. Completely inappropriate. Unbefitting of a proper woman, much less a bride-to-be.

And yet—

Fuck. He’s watching you with expectation, amusement, curiosity. Because this is Gojo Satoru. The man who has always done whatever the hell he wants—and somehow, that makes you feel like you can too.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you drag in a deep breath, then move—shifting onto your knees and leaning forward. With a quiet exhale, you turn, lowering yourself onto his lap, your back against his chest as your hands rest awkwardly in your lap.

The moment you settle, his arms curl around your waist. The air changes, and your heart flutters.

“…huh,” his voice is closer than expected, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You swallow, refusing to meet his gaze—when suddenly, the world bends.

Weightlessness seizes you—like free-falling, like slipping through space itself. Your stomach lurches as reality warps around you, fleeting, untethered—until solid ground finds you again.

A slow blink. Gone is the tea room.

Where the hell are you?

Soft lantern light flickers against dark wood and paper screens, casting shifting shadows along the floor. The air is crisp, laced with pine, and beyond the open veranda, a private onsen awaits—its surface steaming beneath the early evening sky, mist curling lazily across the mountain air like silk. The distant hum of cicadas thrums through the silence, the world around you untouched, secluded, still.

Satoru exhales, a pleased hum, shifting beneath you.

“Ahh, much better…”

Warm fingers thread through your hair. Slow, deliberate—gathering the strands to one side. You feel a brush of lips against your shoulder as he murmurs,

“…don’t you agree?”

Shit. The realization settles over you like heat—you’re still in his lap.

“Wha—” the room is hazy—you’re a bit breathless from the sudden shift in reality, and fuck, it’s mixing dangerously with the heat of his touch as his fingers slowly drag along your waist.

Hesitantly, you tilt your head back, meeting his eyes. Blue. Endless. Watching you. You should look away, but you don’t.

“Um…”

“Ta-da,” he murmurs smugly.

Shifting slightly, you try to will away the heat in your face, slipping away from his chest as you adjust. Your thighs drape over his lap now, half-facing him. And fuck—was that a mistake?

Because now, he’s all you can see.

Snowy white hair, framing a face too perfect to be real—his mouth curving into a lazy grin that makes your tummy clench in a way you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

“Where… are we?” you manage.

Satoru hums, shifting beneath you—his fingers dancing over the silk of your obi. “Oh… y’know,” his hand drags higher, resting just below the curve of your breast. “Just somewhere no one will bother us…”

As your dizzy mind tries to recalibrate from teleporting, you blink, finally processing the position you’re in. Or rather, the position he’s in—lounging on a shikifuton.

His fingers twirl the tie of your obi, and you tense, suddenly incredibly nervous.

“G-Gojo…”

He clicks his tongue. “Satoru.”

“Um…” his other hand begins to slide higher up your thigh. “S-Satoru,” you amend, barely above a whisper.

A dangerous grin. “Good girl.”

Oh. You’re fucked. A shudder rolls through you.

“This place… um…” you try to distract yourself with words. Because what the fuck are you supposed to do when he’s touching you like this?! “Its… not the estate, is it?”

“Nah,” he murmurs lazily. “One of my private villas.I’ve got property all over Japan, sweetheart. Figured I’d take you somewhere more… comfortable.”

Comfortable.

Because sitting in his lap counts as comfortable… right?

And shit. Just what is this heat coiling at the base of your stomach? It’s dizzying. You need to move—need space, need air. But as you shift, attempting to slip from his lap, his grip tightens.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, hands steadying you with effortless strength. “Easy there, sweetheart.”

Your pulse stammers, and for a second, you forget to breathe.

“I—I just need to—”

“Stay put.” His fingers flex against your waist. Firm. Unyielding. “We just teleported. Move too fast, and you’ll tip over.”

As your lips begin to part—a protest forming—a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. Your breath hitches as the edges of your vision blur for a fraction of a second, and you sway, balance slipping.

“Ohp. There it is.”

Satoru moves before you can even react.

One hand slips behind your back, the other finding your hand as he gently lays you back against the futon. The silk of your kimono pools around you as his palm slides back to the curve of your waist.

And suddenly, he’s everywhere.

Leaning over you, elbow propped up—half above, half beside you. A frame too broad, his snowy-white hair falling forward just slightly, strands ghosting against your forehead.

The air shifts.

Those impossibly blue eyes drink you in, framed by thick lashes that soften the sharp cut of his jaw. “Still dizzy?” he murmurs teasingly.

Inhaling shakily, your eyes flutter shut for just a second, searching for something steady, something solid. But there’s only him—his presence, his warmth, the scent of him—clean, crisp, intoxicating.

Yup. You’re fucked.

“…no,” you whisper. But it’s a lie.

Because it’s not the teleporting that’s making your head spin anymore.

Satoru hums, knowing.

“Since we’re to be wed…” his fingers resettle just below your breast, lips curling into a slow, deliberate smirk. “I think you deserve a sample, don’t you?”

Huh?

You should say something. Anything. Your lips part instinctively, but before you can form a thought, before hesitation can settle in—Satoru is leaning in and your brain is short circuiting.

His hand lifts, cupping your cheek as he tilts your chin just so, and with a tenderness, his lips brush against yours in a soft, lingering press.

It’s like a dream. Gojo Satoru—the man you’ve admired, so sweet, so charming, so free—kissing you? Is this real life?

When he pulls back, he studies your expression, a smug grin dragging up his lips.

“What? You want more?” his lips brush against yours, and you barely process it when he mutters, “…wanna ruin you…” kissing you again.

This time, his lips are moving—slow, languid, like he’s introducing himself to you in a way words never could, coaxing you into the unfamiliar rhythm. He doesn’t rush. He guides. Mapping out your hesitation, your breath, the way your body tenses before melting beneath him.

Is your heart going to beat out of your chest? It feels like it. Just as you ease into his movements, his tongue flicks against the seam of your lower lip—soft, teasing.

“C’mon…” he quietly demands, tongue tracing your lips again, “open up f’me…”

And God, you do. Because he feels too good not to.

“Atta girl…” he hums, tongue slipping past your lips with ease. And now, that slow, lazy exploration turns headier, more consuming, more demanding. Groaning quietly, he’s pulling you in, guiding you. Leading. Teaching.

Oh.

That heat in your tummy… it’s spreading down between your legs now. You’re simmering with an inexplainable heat, and you instinctively clutch his robes, whining involuntarily as he kisses you stupid.

He’s grinning smugly against your lips, your sound fueling him as he devours you more. As your lips crash, you feel him shift, his fingers tugging at your kimono—toying with the delicate knot of your obi.

Wait.

You freeze.

Oh god.

Are you about to lose your virginity to the man you are to marry—before your wedding night?

Noticing you tense, Satoru’s smirk gentles and his movements slow. His lips taper, trailing down your jaw with tender pecks.

“Heh… relax, sweetheart…” he purrs against your skin, caressing your body. “In case you’re wondering, ’m not taking that tonight.”

Your breath stutters, heat curling beneath your skin.

Are… you relieved? Fuck… do you want him to fuck you? He’s making your head spin, and with him, tradition feels unnecessary.

 “Oh… I-I just…” you swallow. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

He raises a brow, a slow smirk pulling up his lips. “Yeah? Then I can show you, baby.” His lips graze the curve of your throat, fingers still teasing at your obi. “But I need to hear it from you first.”

You blink up at him, heat pooling between your legs at the look in his eyes—dark, heavy-lidded, consuming.

“What do you want? Gonna let me play with what’s mine?”

Your heart stammers. Fuck, you should hesitate. This is entirely unbefitting of a proper lady. It’s against everything you were raised to be. But the moment his teeth graze your jaw, fuck it, you’re already nodding.

“…yes, please.”

Satoru hums. “Good girl.”

And then, with a deft tug, your kimono slips open as he pulls it apart—the cool air kissing your skin just before he does, lips trailing from your collarbone to the curve of your breast.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “So pretty… look at these tits…” His tongue flicks against your nipple, and you whine, “S-Satoru—ahhh…” shuddering as his mouth wraps around it, swirling his tongue as he sucks the peak.

Smirking, he releases your nipple with a wet pop. “Bet you’re not as prim and proper as you look…” he muses, lips dragging lower, nipping at the sensitive dip of your waist. “Bet there’s a filthy little thing hiding under all this tradition…”

His palms descend, smoothing over your thighs, coaxing them apart with ease, but you tense just a bit.

His gaze lifts, ice-blue and smoldering. “Nervous, sweetheart?” he teases, kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs, thumbs sweeping slow, lazy circles—soothing, patient. But there’s a tension in him, the way his breath deepens, the way his hands flex like he’s holding back.

Your lashes flutter. “I… I just… I dunno how to, I—”

“Shhh,” he coos, smirking, “relax f’me, yeah?”

You give him a little nod as your thighs part further beneath the coaxing of his hands, and fuck, fuck, the sight of you like this—open, pliant, so soft and untouched—has his cock aching.

His breath shudders, fingers dragging up your inner thigh. “Mmm… I can already tell—you’re gonna be a dream wrapped around my cock.” A choked whine escapes you, body shivering, and his smirk deepens. “Ohhh, you like that?” he chuckles, fingers slipping beneath the silk of your kimono, spreading it further open. “Like hearing how bad I wanna fuck you?”

And fuck, does he want to fuck you. The restraint it takes to not flip you over and rut into your cunt is damn near unbearable.

It’s been days since Satoru’s had someone in his bed—days of listening to those stiff-ass elders drone on about duty, responsibility, marriage. Fucking is his stress relief. His role—this position as clanhead, as the strongest. God, he acts like he doesn’t give a shit but it’s exhausting. So, he fucks who he wants, when he wants. And now? Now he’s got you beneath him, trembling and breathless, your kimono slipping from your shoulders like a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be undone.

It’s almost enough to make him say fuck it and take you right now.

Almost.

But he’s not completely selfish—knows you’re untouched, knows he’d probably wreck you if he took you raw the way he wants to. And as much as he loves breaking pretty little things, he’s gotta prepare you. Prepare you for the worst. Because Satoru? He doesn’t make love, he fucks.

“Satoru… I… I’ve never—"

“I gotchu sweetheart,” he drawls, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your cotton panties. “Gonna take my time. Let’s see how filthy my pretty little wife can get f’me, hm?”

You whimper as his middle finger circles the entrance of your slick cunt, teasing, testing, before pressing in an inch, feeling a small taste of your tight heat wrapped around him.

“Mnnh…” your voice wavers as your fingers grip his robes. “S-Satoru.” He groans, dragging his fingers through your slick, spreading it, making sure you feel every stroke. “Shit, baby…” his voice dips, husky, teasing. “Already soaked, hm? Just from me kissing you? Heh… see.” A wicked grin curls against your neck and you’re whining as he parts your folds, circling against your wet heat. “Knew it. You’re a naughty girl. Feels good huh?”

You nod, head tipping back as your cunt drips on the futon, hips shifting toward him.

“I-I… haaa…” you look up at him with pleading eyes as the tip of his finger sinks inside your tiny hole, then retreating just as quickly, playing with you. He groans, “God I’m gonna fucking ruin you… lemme feel how tight this little pussy is f’me…” and then he pushes his finger in fully, sinking knuckle-deep in your entrance.

“Ahhh!” you gasp, body shuddering, face burying into his neck as your cunt clenches him greedily. “Ohhh, shit,” he groans through his teeth because fuck—your tiny pussy’s already swallowing his finger like you don’t wanna let go. Satoru’s cock is twitching painfully in his hakama, leaking, straining against the fabric. He can’t wait to split you open on his thick throbbing dick.

“There ya go, sweetheart,” he coos, lips brushing against your ear. “Nice and easy, baby.” He’s moving now, curling his finger against that tender spot, and you gasp “S-Satoru…” burying further into his neck as you soak his hand, clutching his kimono as you whine, “nngh… s’too much…”

“Aww… s’okay…” he’s pressing wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat, finger slowly fucking into you, “Shit… this is only one finger sweetheart. Poor thing. M’gonna have to stretch you real good, huh?” he pumps through every word. “And you’ll take all of me, wont’cha? Take me like a good girl?”

Your lashes flutter. It’s overwhelming, but god, you love it. Stretching your hot little cunt with his long finger, the way his pretty blue eyes watch you, the way his voice drips into your ears, coaxing you further under. “I-I… nnngh…” your needy pussy’s gushing all over his knuckles, “Satoruuu…” you whimper, squirming slightly, unsure what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Of course he fucking knows.

“Faster?” he croons, nipping at your earlobe, pumping you fast, and fuck, your eyes roll back. The sounds of your sopping slick mix with the hum of cicadas. “That’s it… m’gonna teach you. Show my perfect little slut of a wife how to take cock, how to be a good girl for her husband.”

He curls his finger further, sliding against your tight wet walls. “S-Satoru—ahhh…”

“Shhh, I got you,” he soothes, cock angry in his pants as he pumps you stupid. “Shit, you’re so wet… feel that?” his free hand splays over your stomach, feeling your tiny hole flutter around him. “Ah, fuck… you’re gonna feel so tight around my dick… can’t wait to fuckin’ pound this needy pussy.”

Your breath is stuttering as he’s stretching you faster, making your cunt drool all over him, pretty blue eyes watching you through fluttering white lashes.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby…” he murmurs in your ear, voice deep, velvety. “Hope you’re ready, gonna milk my fuckin’ dick, be my little obedient, sexy toy for me to use whenever I want. Yeah?”

Your body moves on its own and you arch further into him, desperate for more of his ministrations.

“…satoru,” you pant, and his cock leaps in his pants the moment you ask, “m-more… please?”

“Shit…” he groans, slipping another finger into your sopping cunt. “Knew you’re not as innocent as you look. Gonna pump you so fucking full, paint your insides white with my hot, thick cum,” he pants, finger fucking you faster. “This want you wanted needy girl?”

“Mhmm…” you nod, eyes squeezed shut, legs squeezing around him, a whimper spilling for your lips. “Ohh, fuck yes…” he growls, licking into your mouth.

Fuck, Satoru’s cock is throbbing so much is hurts now.

The thought of fucking you raw? Of splitting you open on his cock, ruining that untouched little cunt, making you stretch around him, crying, gasping, begging? Fuck—he could cum in his pants just thinking about it.

Because that is something he doesn’t do with other women. He’s always careful. Always keeps things clean, simple. Never finishes inside—ensuring there’s something between him and whatever meaningless distraction is spread out beneath him. Because at the end of the day, Gojo Satoru has a lot of meaningless distractions, and none of them are worth that kind of indulgence.

But you? Breeding you? Filling your tiny little hole, stuffing you full, making you drip with his cum until you’re leaking, messy, begging for more? Fuck, that’s more than a perk—that’s a goddamn plus.

A plus that, at least in marrying you, he’ll have someone to fuck whenever he wants. Satoru always gets what he wants. And he loves to fuck.

That’s all this is. That’s all you’ll be. A perfect little wife, ready to spread your legs and take him like you were made for it. Why? Because Satoru hates being tied down. But if the elders want an heir?

Fine. He’ll fucking give ‘em that.

“O-Oh… ohmygod…” you’re whimpering now, nails digging into his shoulders as he’s scissoring your dripping pussy, stretching you wider. “Ahhh!” The moment his thumb finds your clit, your body jolts, and he chuckles. “Mmm… there it is…” he’s rubbing slow circles against your swollen bud, pumping your cunt as your whimper and writhe. “That’s what I wanna see… let it take you… let it break you, baby.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you—eyes hooded, lips parted, white hair falling over his gaze. Fuck, he looks ruined just watching you come apart. You’re gasping, chest rising and falling, and he smirks. “S’too much,” you whine, voice trembling, “too much, Satoru… I… ahhh!”

Leaning in, his lips brush against yours. “C’mon sweet thing,” he rasps, “Cum f’me. Lemme see how pretty you look when you fall apart…”

And fuck, you do.

Your pussy clenches, tightening around his fingers as the coil in your stomach snaps, sending pleasure crashing through you.

A choked cry slips from your lips as your body shudders violently, legs squeezing around his wrist, cunt gushing down his knuckles. He groans, feeling every pulse of your release, the hot slick dripping down his hand as he fucks you through the aftershocks.

“Oh, fuck,” he grits out, watching you unravel beneath him. His lips curl, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s it, baby… look at you, makin’ such a mess on my fingers.” His thrusts slow, easing you down from your high, his free hand stroking up your trembling thigh as you’re panting, gripping the sleeve of his kimono as you look up at him with dewy eyes.

“Mmm… such a good girl f’me,” he murmurs.

Your lashes flutter, hazy and weak, as he slowly withdraws his fingers from your spent, fluttering hole. You whimper, body jerking slightly at the sensitivity, and a thin, glistening string of arousal connects his fingers to your soaked entrance before it snaps, slick dripping down your thighs.

Satoru hums. “Well, well…” he’s lifting his hand to the lantern light, watching you glisten on his fingers. “You really did make such a mess, sweetheart…”

Your dazed gaze meets his just as his tongue slips between his fingers, sucking them clean. “Mmm…” he groans, lashes fluttering, eyes rolling back before pulling them out with a wet pop. “Can’t wait to devour your cunt properly… bury my face between those pretty thighs n’ make you cum on my tongue while I feed you my dick…”

You’re fucking speechless, barely processing his filthy words before he’s shifting, his free hand dipping beneath the folds of his hakama. Blinking, dazed, you look down and—

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

He’s pulling himself free, that thick flushed cock springing up—flushed, red, and glistening with precum. It throbs, slapping against his abs, needy and aching. You look at Satoru’s blue eyes and they’re watching you, amusement tugging at his lips.

Gripping the base, he gives it a slow stroke. “Mhn… see what you do to me?” he smears his arousal lazily over the swollen head, exhaling. “Ahhh… look how fuckin’ hard I am just from playing with your pretty cunt…”

Swallowing, your thighs press together, heat blooming in your tummy. Each pump of his cock is hypnotic, deliberate—like he has all the time in the world.

You can’t take your eyes off it.

Fuck

His fingers were already enough to drive you insane, but that? How—how the hell are you supposed to fit that inside your pussy?

Satoru catches the way you bite your lip, the flicker of uncertainty in your gaze.

He smirks, tilting his head. “C’mere,” and he’s reaching for your hand, bringing it toward him. “Wanna play with it?”

Your fingers twitch. “But, Satoru—”

“Shhh,” his thumb brushes soothing circles across your wrist. “Told you, ‘m gonna teach you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm—soft, sweet. “You’re gonna be my wife, baby… that means learning how to handle my cock, too.”

“Oh…” your lashers flutter, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Okay.”

For a fleeting second, the moment feels… almost tender.

But it shatters as he’s spitting directly into your palm—hot, slick, filthy.

“Gotta get it niiiice and wet…” he mutters, guiding your drenched hand to his throbbing dick, smearing the sticky substance around his shaft. “Grip it like this… kay?”

“Okay…” your murmur, thumb brushing against a thick vein. And god, it’s hot—hotter than you expect—twitching in your grip, heavy and pulsing beneath your tiny fingers.

“Mm, good girl,” he exhales, watching you through lidded eyes. “Start slow, yeah? Let me feel you.” He moves your hand beneath his, setting a pace, slow and teasing. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, lashes fluttering as his head tips back. “Fuuuuck… yeah… that’s it, jus’ like that, baby…”

Biting your lip, you look up at his filthy expression. “Like…this?” you experiment, squeezing a little harder, gripping his dick with more purpose. His cock twitches violently and his lips part. “Fuuuuck…” he grunts, grip tightening on your wrist, “y-yeah… that’s it—shit—keep going, just like that.”

God, the way he looks right now has you dizzy—lidded eyes, jaw slack, breath coming short and heavy. He’s falling apart from your touch alone—like there’s a power to it. That realization makes you bolder, your strokes growing more confident.

And fuck, he seems to like that.

“There ya go, sweetheart,” his cock’s jerking in your grip as he pulls back completely, pretty blue eyes flicking form your hand to your face, smirk turning pure filth. “God, look at you… pretty little wife, strokin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Maybe I oughta let you do this every night, huh? Put those soft little hands to good use.”

The slick, obscene sounds of your hand working over his cock fills the space as he leans back, shamelessly reveling in it, hips twitching into your grasp.

“Nnngh… keep strokin’ me just like that…” his lips hover a breath away from yours, panting, desperate. You squeeze a little harder, rolling your wrist, and his brows furrow, a sharp hiss escaping him. “Shit—” his head lolls back, voice wrecked, “fuck, you’re such a quick learner… bet you’d let me fuck that tight little throat next, wouldn’t you?”

You cunt is throbbing at his words, slick pooling in your panties. God, how are you supposed to answer him? He’s filthy. But you love it. Your thighs squeeze together, and Satoru sees the way you shift—his grin stretching, wicked.

“Betcha like strokin’ me.” His voice is rough, thick with need, fingers threading into your hair. “Betcha like feelin’ my cock throb in your hand, huh?”

Biting your lip, you squeeze his dick harder. “Y-Yeah…” your cheeks burn at your own filthy admission, and his smirk is vicious, pure sin. “Knew it. Fuckin’ knew it.” He groans, cock twitching in your palm as his flushed tip drools all over your tiny hands. “Naughty little thing… keep that up, n’ m’gonna cum all over these pretty fingers…”

You swipe your thumb over the tip, rolling the head as you murmur “what if… I want that?” and as the words slip out, Satoru’s eyes snap to yours, blown wide, something feral in those cerulean depths.

“Oh?” His grip in your hair tightens, a sharp, desperate inhale through clenched teeth. “Say that again.”

You breathe slowly, smearing his drooling dick, and Satoru’s cock leaks more, jerking violently the moment you mutter, “I… I wanna see you cum.”

With a primal growl, he snaps—lunging forward, lips crashing against yours, messy, consuming. Breathless, desperate, your strokes turn frenzied as he’s groaning into your mouth, his hand groping your tit, his cock jolting in your palm, pulsing vigorously.

“Fuck,” he pants, forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged, needy. “Faster—m’fuckin’ close—fuck, baby, don’t stop—”

You obey, jerking him quicker, harder, your palm slick and messy with his slick. The lewd, obscene sounds spilling from his lips are shameless, his hips jerking up, chasing the friction.

It’s invigorating, and so—fuck it.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean forward, part your lips—and spit. A long, slick stream dripping down, coating his thick cock, gliding over your fingers as you pump him faster.

Satoru chokes on a breath.

“Shit. Shit. Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, head tipping back, throat bared, veins straining. “Goddamn…” his voice cracks, laughter breaking through. “Look at that. Gonna turn you into the perfect little slut f’me, aren’t I?”

Your hand is a blur now—stroking, twisting, rolling over the ridge of his cock, milking him as he gasps, shuddering, hands roaming over your tits, groping, squeezing.

“G-Gonna cum all over you,” he groans, voice unraveling, grip tightening as his thumb flicks your nipple. “Wanna see it? Fuck—my cum dripping down your hand—” A ragged whine catches in his throat. “Or maybe—m-maybe your tits? Haaa… s-shit… yeah.”

Suddenly, his hand shoves you down, pinning you against the futon as he straddles you, knees pressing against your sides. Your eyes widen as his cock hovers above you, dripping, leaking, his grip tight around the base as he strokes himself furiously.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck!” The wet faps of his fist grow louder, his panting wrecked, desperate. “Gonna fuckin’—haaaa—s-shit, take my cum!”

And then, he’s spurting his thick gooey seed all over you, spilling rope after rope of that sticky white essence, shooting it from the ridge of his pulsing dick as it erupts is messy arcs. It's warm and wet, his body lingering above you, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants as he wrings every last drop.

Groaning, his head lolls, lazily pumping the last few spurts, blue eyes dropping to the mess he’s made of you—cum dripping down your tits, pooling in the dip of your stomach.

“Fuck…” he exhales, thumb grazing your bottom lip before tilting your chin up. “Just look at you. Drenched in me.”

You blink, dazed, body still humming, skin sticky and dewy with sweat and cum. Satoru watches you for a moment, then huffs a lazy chuckle, shifting off you. You barely register the way he reaches for something beside the futon, only catching the warm press of a damp cloth against your skin a second later.

Lying there, breathless, he carelessly wipes his release off you. He’s not gentle, not exactly, but he’s careful—moving with the ease of someone who’s done this plenty of times before. When he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside, stretches his arms over his head, and flops onto his back with a satisfied sigh.

There’s a beat of silence as you both exhale. The weight of what the fuck just happened, settling in your chest. Then, his smirk returns as he tilts his head at you.

“Welp,” he sits up, rolling a shoulder, cracking his neck, as if already moving past the moment. “S’pose we oughta head back, huh?”

Your stomach knots. “Oh… um. B-Back?” Because how the fuck are you supposed to sit in front of the elders, in front of your mother, after this? After he’s just—after this?

Satoru snorts, already adjusting himself, tucking his cock back into his hakama like none of this just happened. “Yeah.” He grins, fixing the folds of his robes. “I got what I wanted. You had your fun, yeah?”

O-Oh? Your breath stutters. You swallow.

He smirks, glancing over at you, a few stray drops of his cum still drying on your skin. “Besides… can’t have ‘em thinking I already knocked you up before the wedding.”

The implication is clear. The possessiveness is clear. But the affection? That’s missing. It’s like… he’s already moved on, like this was nothing more than a way to pass the time.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t love you.

He owns you.

And as he extends his hand to you, waiting for you to take it so he can pull you up, there’s… no warmth in his touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coos, blue eyes gleaming—calm, unreadable, detached. “Time to go home.”

Home.

But, it’s not a home—it’s a throne. And not yours to claim, only yours to be kept in.

a/n. hiiii welcome to the debut of this fic! i had to set a lot up here before we dive into the angst and the smutfest that's to come. ngl, this is a bit out of my comfort zone bc as a demisexual i crave emotional connection with sex. like, i'm really gonna want satoru to hold me after he fucks me stupid 🥲 but ALAS. this fic is not that (at least... not yet. give satoru some time, soon he's gonna be whipped for readers coochie, hehe 🤭) anyways, tysm for reading. would love to hear your thoughts 🫶🏻 like i said, this is going to be multiple parts. no clue how many just yet tho!

taglist pt 1:

@forest-nymph420 @linabugaboo @enhasrii @indiewritesxoxo @yamagucji

@aerareads @devils-blackrose @starpachinko @sadmonke @sylussss7

@slutoru1207 @satoruxsc @sukunasunflower @reihimbo @madamechrissy

@sleepykittyenergy @artist1936 @eggrollforyou @nishloves @serenxtii

@lastsubstance @sarapherna1ia @7thsthings @merrydoe @earliergrave

@106-94 @propan-3-ol @oromanticism @chxllix @nonamebbsblog

@honeybunnnnie @beereadzzz @moonchhu @bunheadusa @atschii

@cherriee-ee @kiyoko182 @itsinherited @fairygardenprincesss @7haze

@hedgefundmeg @adreamingpendulum @etsuniiru @velvetyshu @genshingeeksworld

@waterfallu @haruhatake @schooki @magnificientscarlett @strychnynegirl

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 7 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If he's so bad, then why do you crave him so much? You crave him enough to let him be your first.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, scars, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, oral sex, (rough) sex, penetration, unprotected sex, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You didn't know what real desire feels like, until you felt it.

Until you felt him.

And you wanted him, as much as you hated him.

The moment his lips crashed against yours, it felt like nothing you had ever felt before.

Sure, you had been kissed before. Once.

The loser has to seduce the shy girl.

But that didn't count. Or even if it did, it didn't matter to you. Because nothing that happened before that kiss seemed to matter.

A part of you expected his kiss to be gentle - he had made a promise to you after all - but there was hardly any gentleness in his touch.

The first second after your lips met had been a soft, tentative caress. Gentle and careful, as if to test the waters. You lay stiffly underneath him, unsure what to really do. You almost felt awkward, but that didn't mean you wanted it to stop. Quite the opposite.

The gentleness felt...almost forced on his part. You already knew he wasn't the soft type, but for you, he tried.

Until he didn't. And eventually his mouth took control of yours.

You didn't mind.

His lips moved against yours more urgently, the tip of his tongue caressing your lower lip and trying to part your lips, demanding entry.

When you finally gave in to his silent demand, slowly and carefully, he took full advantage of that and slid his tongue in your mouth, participating in a sinful dance with your own.

You were still stiff, still shy, still...unsure. And he felt it.

He pulled back, just enough to murmur against your lips. "Open your mouth wider for me, princess."

Princess. That was new. At least you weren't Hana anymore. Or at least not in that moment.

You reluctantly obeyed and with a low groan you felt his tongue push deeper against yours, harder, more demanding.

You almost gasped in surprise, but again, you didn't mind.

It felt so...

So...

And you were still stiff. A part of you almost felt like burying yourself under a pile of non-existence for being so complicated.

But again, he didn't seem to get angry or even frustrated. Instead he slowly pulled his hand back and tipped your chin up with his fingertips.

"Stop thinking so much. Just do whatever feels right. I promise you, I'm not going to laugh or hurt you. I promised you something and I meant it." His voice was softer than you had ever heard it before and it made something inside of you break.

You wanted him. You wanted him so terribly and the thought scared you like nothing else.

God, when he was being gentle like this, you wanted him even more. It made you go near insane with desire and heartbreak, because you could never have him. Could never have this version of him.

He was the man who kidnapped you, not your lover.

The man who slapped you, not the man who kissed you.

But, shit, he kissed you. And you wanted nothing more than exactly that. Maybe even for the rest of your life.

You were always a romantic at heart.

Hopeful and yet hopeless.

"Okay." You whispered softly and nervously nibbled on your lower lip. "I...I just..."

"I know." He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your cheek. "But that's what I'm here for. I'll guide you."

The next thing you realized was how he pressed you against his wardrobe. You had no idea how you even made it across the hallway and to his bedroom, but somehow you did.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, leaving you helpless and at his mercy. But you didn't care.

In fact it made you want him all the more.

The sounds he made while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth made the dampness between your legs increase tenfold.

His hands slowly slid down your arms and over your shoulders, until he reached your waist and then he stopped. His touch was so gentle, almost careful, like he was touching a delicate bird and was afraid it might fly away.

"Turn around." He whispered against your lips. You hesitated for a second, but eventually obeyed, with a slowness that almost made him growl in frustration.

His fingers found the zipper of your dress, impatiently tugging at it, when-

He exhaled in even more frustration when he felt your hand reach for his wrist, stopping him in his attempt to skillfully and swiftly undress you.

"What?" He bit out.

You opened your mouth and closed it several times. How would you tell him? Should you? Or should you just show him?

You were almost sure he was going to be so repulsed that he'd go and find himself a second girl in no time.

The thought made something inside of you die.

"Can I just...lie on my back?" You whispered.

He frowned, but he was a clever man and he immediately caught on the fact that something wasn't like it was supposed to be. But since he was something akin a gentleman who'd only beat you, not force your clothes off you or rape you, he had never seen you naked before. And suddenly you felt incredibly insecure.

"What is this about?" He asked in a softer tone. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes." You said quietly. "But that's not the reason."

Instead of answering, he tilted his chin down and his lips met the back of your neck. The shiver that punched through your body and the sound that left your lips were both feral.

"I know." He whispered. "But I'll make you forget about it soon."

"You...You don't understand." You finally gasped out. "It's...You won't want me any longer."

That made him pause and he slowly pulled his head back. His frown got deeper and there was something else in his expression now, something like confusion and a hint of anger.

"What are you talking about?"

You fought with yourself, trying to come up with something to say, something to do, something to explain, but no.

Instead you simply released his wrist.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he began to move again and you felt his fingertips tickle the skin of your back when he moved to pull the zipper down. Another hard shiver ran through your body and you closed your eyes. Your forehead tightly pressed against the wardrobe, you waited. Waited for him to recoil in disgust. To push you away and call out God, it was all for nothing.

But the call never came.

Instead he was silent for a long moment and you felt his gaze burn holes through your body.

"Who did this?"

He sounded calm - no, like he was desperately trying to stay calm, maybe for your sake. You couldn't yet tell if he was repulsed or if maybe he was trying to act like he wasn't.

The faint trace of the scar was subtle, but still evident, even after all these years. A cruel reminder that you would never be free of your past. Of the pain. Sometimes you felt like you were made of pain far more than of flesh and blood.

"My mother." You said very quietly, unable to open your eyes yet.

His fingertips followed the contour of the scar in a touch so soft that you barely even felt it. But you did feel it. It immediately made you shiver and gasp.

That was nothing.

The moment you felt his lips brush over the skin of your back, slowly following the same line, you inhaled sharply. Breathlessly.

There was not enough air to breathe.

Your hands were pressed against the wardrobe tightly and you felt your legs shake.

This was enough to make your mind go hazy and your head dizzy. If this already drove you insane like that, you couldn't tell if you'd even be able to have sex with him. Or if you'd slowly float off into non-existence.

This was better than life.

A soft whimper came over your lips the second his tongue flicked out to taste your skin.

"Oh God." You moaned breathlessly.

Good, you thought with the little mind you had left to think. Good. He isn't repulsed.

"Your mother." He whispered, without ever stopping his ministrations. It made you tense, but you listened in silence. "Your mother. Is she still alive?"

You kept your eyes closed and nodded.

A low hum came over his lips.

"Good."

A slow frown formed on your face, but you didn't dare to speak now. You wouldn't have done anything if it risked to stop him from what he was doing.

"And that man? Your neighbor? Is he still alive?"

You slowly shook your head.

"Too bad." He whispered against your skin. "I would have loved to take care of him.”

That made your head perk up and you looked over your shoulder, looking at him with something that was equally horrified as it was…admiring.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered softly.

He nodded. “What do you think? You’re my girl. I take care of my girl. And no one gets to hurt you. No one besides me.”

His words sent a warm shiver down your spine. You knew it wasn’t exactly healthy or…good. But it felt good. And you couldn’t help but feel that certain warmth in your body increase.

The way he spoke of you, with such possessiveness, it awakened something in you of which you never before knew you had that in you.

“But they hurt me in the past.” You whispered, as though this was a normal conversation.

“Doesn’t matter”, he whispered back, “they still hurt you. And anyone who did, will pay.”

You wanted to respond, wanted to express anything, but you didn’t have the time. He spun you around so swiftly and effortlessly that you immediately forgot what you had even been talking about. You stumbled backwards until your legs hit the bed and then he slowly pushed you back. Gently, like everything he did that night.

Gently.

Your heart skipped several beats as you stared up at him like that. Your hair was messy and your face flushed, your lips still swollen from the greedy, demanding kiss and your dress hung loosely around your shoulders. But your eyes, your eyes, they held a special kind of expression that night.

Hunger.

It was hunger.

A hunger you hadn’t ever felt before. So powerful, it was all-consuming. Your mind was occupied with him, unable to focus on anything else than his delicious smirk. The one you had grown to…

Oh God, don’t even think that.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispered in a husky voice. His hands wandered up to slowly undo his tie. The sight was enough to stir even more desire in you, forcing you to shift on the bed, your impatience growing. Your heart was aching with how handsome he was.

If only you could have him like that every night.

He slowly pulled the tie off and it fell to the ground, before he slowly moved to undo the buttons of his shirt. That was when you realized that you would either sleep with him that night or die.

Because that was how it felt.

Like you would die without him. Crumble and suffocate.

Your eyes followed the movement of his hands as he slowly shrugged his shirt off, revealing his chiseled, marble chest. The sight made your brows furrow and you did something oh-so cheeky. You bit your lip. You had to, otherwise you would have probably moaned.

“What is it, sweet girl?” He purred as he slowly moved onto the bed, hovering right above you. “Do you like what you see?”

You closed your eyes when his hot breath kissed your ear. Then you nodded and bit your lip again.

“Good.” He breathed. “Then show me something I’ll like as well.”

He hooked his fingertips under the material of your dress and attempted to pull it down, when…

He hesitated. For a moment you were almost sure you had done something terribly wrong again and you were about to get punished. You held your breath and expected him to swing his fist at you.

“Can I?”

Your eyes widened almost comically in surprise. Your mouth fell open and you nodded.

The sight of you so surprised and speechless made him laugh.

God, what a beautiful sound.

If only you could hear it every day.

If only, if only, if only.

Your heart ached again. But you quickly pushed these thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. You could mourn your non-existent, fantasy relationship by the time the next morning came.

That moment was for you and him.

And right then, he was there. And he was real.

And he was gentle.

He pulled the dress down torturously slow, his gaze eagerly following every inch of skin that was revealed.

You felt so naked, so exposed, so…so warm under his gaze.

You swallowed thickly and kept your focus on his eyes the whole time. It was like he suddenly was a different person.

A husband type of guy.

You closed your eyes, forcefully trying to suppress these kind of dangerous thoughts. But it was impossible. You were immediately certain.

You were in love with him.

And it didn’t matter how many water bowls he’d make you lick on the floor, how many degrading names he called you and how many marks he gave you.

You were in love with him.

Your eyes shot open and you looked at him with something akin to pain, but your confusion grew when, for probably the first time, he didn’t immediately met your gaze. His gaze was fixed on your body, firm and yet soft, like glue. He didn’t move it away, just kept it roaming up and down your body. It was enough to make you shiver.

“God.” He whispered huskily. “God, you’re perfect.”

He slowly looked up to meet your eyes again and when he did, the tiniest frown grew on his face.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Am I going too fast?”

You just stared at him, unable to say anything. The way his eyes were soft, the way his voice was, the way he seemed so concerned.

And there we go again.

You felt tears well up in your eyes and you tried desperately to swallow the lump in your throat.

His expression immediately darkened, mixed with surprise and something else. He immediately sat up, moving his hips away from yours.

“You’re not ready.” He said stiffly. “You don’t want to. Fuck, I should have known.”

He attempted to get up and, judging by his reaction, probably flee, but he stopped when he felt your hand on his wrist, holding him back.

“No”, you gasped out quickly. “No, don’t leave. Please.”

He stared at you, his expression troubled. “But you…”

“I want it.” You whispered. “I really do.”

He shook his head. “No.” He said firmly. “Listen, I won’t punish you when you say no now. I don’t want it to be like this. The thought of doing this, when you don’t really want me, it…”

“I do!” You propped yourself up onto your elbows and nodded quickly. “I do.” You whispered. “That’s not why I’m crying. I was just…”

You briefly closed your eyes, before you continued.

“I’m just complicated.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced, but the frown on his face signaled that he wouldn’t try to run off again.

“Yes.” You whispered softly. “I was just overwhelmed. But I want it. Please, don’t…Don’t go now.”

His frown deepened, but he slowly leaned back down.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said quietly. “You don’t have to endure this, to please me. Not this.”

You slowly shook your head. You couldn’t tell him the real reason.

That you were grieving the relationship you could have had with him, in another time, another universe. That you felt like you were falling in love with him…or that you already were.

You opened your mouth to come up with another excuse, but when words failed you yet again, you did something else. You tilted your head up and your lips met his. Soft and tentative, careful and gentle, but it was you who kissed him.

Bold girl.

He hesitated for a moment as if to make sure you really meant it.

It truly surprised you how much he seemed to care about your consent. So far, a small part of you had always believed he’d snap once he got impatient enough and he’d just take what he wanted, not caring if you cried or begged or pleaded.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

And still you couldn’t help but ask yourself if this was solely about the promise that he made you. Because somehow, under all his insanity, there was something like an honorable man. A man who kept his promises.

But you tried your hardest to lock these thoughts out.

To lock any thoughts out.

Tonight was about you and him.

The moment you felt his tongue part your lips again, that was exactly what you thought about.

You and him.

Him.

And suddenly the whole world seemed to fade into nothingness, because all that mattered was the way his tongue felt against yours and the sound that left his lips when you wrapped your arms around him. Your hands slowly wandered up the skin of his back, up to his shoulders. You tried to touch every inch of him and memorize it in your mind, just in case you never got to feel him like that again.

You were pretty sure you were doing something wrong, because you had no idea what you were doing, but you tried to listen to his words and just do what felt right.

He finally pulled your dress off of you, leaving you almost bare, in nothing but a pair of panties. The cold air hit your skin and you felt another shiver run down your spine.

And another one when his hand ran up your stomach.

And another, even harder, one when he gently cupped your breast in his hand.

You were a shivering, stuttering mess underneath him and all you could focus on was the way his hands felt against your skin – warm and gentle, soft and yet demanding.

He moaned against your lips as he gently squeezed your breast in his hand, before he slowly moved it further up to your shoulder, then down your arm. And eventually, oh God, eventually he took your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed your hand down against the mattress with a gentleness that equaled a breath of air.

He ground his hips down against yours, a movement that made a flash of electricity shoot through your veins. He was so hard. Hard and ready to ruin you.

And God, you wanted him to.

“Are you nervous?” He breathed without even stopping to kiss you. You tried to pull your head back to speak, but he didn’t let you and that was enough to make you moan as well.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Just relax.” He murmured softly. “Let me take care of you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He slowly withdrew from the kiss, which immediately left you craving more, but you had no time to think about it, because the next moment you felt him press gentle kisses all over your neck. Your head lolled to the side and you exhaled a soft sigh. You didn’t even stop shivering any more.

You wanted to pull him closer, you wanted to beg Please don’t stop, but your lips didn’t obey. Your nervousness was far more powerful than you initially thought.

As if on cue, he pulled his head back, looked down at you and whispered: “If I do something you don’t want, tell me, alright?”

You managed a weak nod, silently begging him to continue.

He put on a cocky smirk and went back to kissing your neck, ever so slowly making his way further down. Just when you thought he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better than that, you felt his lips brush along your bare breast and his tongue darted out and left a slow, lazy path over your hard nipple.

You had no idea you could make such sinful sounds.

“P-please.” You whimpered.

He grinned victoriously. “Please what, sweet girl? Please stop?”

“No!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, sweetness. Just lean back and let me do the rest. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He resumed his actions and you fell back against the pillow, your eyes shut. Only then you realized how tightly you had your arms wrapped around him. One of your hands slowly wandered up and down his back again, while the other one tangled in his soft hair. You let out a soft sigh when he moved over to your other breast, doing the most wicked things with his mouth.

You were so breathless and constantly gasping for air, it left your mouth dry.

And then it got even harder to breathe.

He slowly kissed his path down your stomach, making you shiver and writhe in anticipation and agony.

“Oh God, what are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly. You wanted to call out his godforsaken name, but he didn’t have one. So instead you ran your hand through his hair again.

He hummed against your skin as he teasingly licked a slow path down your stomach.

“You’ll see, princess.” He whispered softly.

By the time he reached the edge of your panties, you were no more than a puddle. A helpless mess, desperate over everything he did.

Over him.

He took the material of your panties between his teeth and slowly tugged them down.

“Oh, God!”

You had a feeling like something inside of you was throbbing.

You had been wet before. Felt that nervous twitch, whenever the bad, wicked thoughts entered your mind.

But nothing ever came close to this.

When he slowly freed you of your underwear, you were sure you were about to faint, until-

Fucking hell.

He used his teeth the entire way and when he finally managed to pull them off, he bit down on them and you were sure you saw his tongue dart out. You lay there like a statue, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed as you witnessed how he tasted the piece of lace that had just covered your soaking wet, most private part.

All you could do was stare, your mouth wide open, as you felt the dampness slowly turn into a pool of arousal.

He slowly pulled them out of his mouth and tossed them aside, his eyes fixed on your own eyes.

He hummed out a soft: “I knew you were delicious.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but all that came out was nothing.

He smirked again, but it wasn’t even close to mocking. It was more something like…

Satisfaction.

“Are you ready for me, princess?”

Another weak nod later, you felt him lean closer. The second his hot breath hit your core, you let out a needy, breathless whimper.

You had no idea what that felt like, but judging from the way simply his breath on you felt…

“Keep looking at me.” He whispered. “I want to see your eyes, when I taste you.”

And then you finally felt it. His mouth enveloped you in a way you had only ever seen in videos and you reaction came the same instant.

You tried to keep your eyes open, but they fell shut as if on cue.

And the moment you felt his tongue against you, you were done for.

He began to slowly move it, circle your clit and gently suck on the sensitive skin.

Any semblance of composure left your body and you moaned. And moaned. And moaned.

“Oh…Oh God.” You breathed out, instinctively tightening your hand in his hair.

He let out a soft moan when you did and the sound made you moan in response. The soft vibrations of his humming against your skin nearly made your eyes roll back. You wanted to look at him. But God, it was hard to even breathe.

You didn’t know how he did it. But he did things to you, things that made you feel a tightness in you, like it was all too much and also not even close to enough.

He kept running his tongue over your wet folds, again and again, going from gentle and slow to hard and quick. But the way he sucked on your skin was what made you tremble and ache from the inside.

You were close, you could tell. And you didn’t even need to imagine the most heinous things for it.

“Oh God, please, please, oh God, please!”

He didn’t make any attempts to tease you or stop. He grasped your thighs tightly and propped your legs over his shoulders, pulling you even closer. He hummed again and moved and moved and moved and-

“Oh God!”

You inhaled sharply, tensing up so painfully hard. And then you became still. The pleasure rolled over you in hot waves, as a warm, white light overshadowed everything else in your mind.

You never before came so hard in your entire life.

When you finally, slowly came back down from your high, you carefully lifted your head from the pillow, only to find him already staring up at you. He ever so slowly pulled his head back and looked up at you in awe.

And you stared down at him in fascination.

The devil took over your body, because you suddenly felt unable to wait any longer. You needed to feel him. You impatiently reached for him and pulled him back up, until you felt him pressed against you again.

His hardness achingly straining against his pants, pressed against your warm wetness.

“That was so…God, that was so…”

His lips curved up into a slow smile, but he seemed just as breathless.

Did he get even harder?

You let out a shuddery breath and crashed your lips against his again. He felt so warm on top of you, so safe, that you momentarily forgot that you were so scared of him at times.

You forgot that he kidnapped you and you forgot that he slowly broke your soul.

He also made you Hotteok and he made you cum, didn’t he?

Effortlessly.

You needed him. And you were going to die if you didn’t feel him soon.

“Are you still sure?” He breathed and leaned down to nip at your earlobe.

You nodded breathlessly and bit back another moan.

“I am.” You whispered softly.

And the next moment, you felt his hand slowly reach down. Heard his belt unbuckle and fall to the ground. The sound made something inside of you ache with even more impatience.

You used the small moment to look up at his face. His hair was a mess and his eyes were focused on your body, while he reached down and slowly pushed his pants down. When he felt you staring at him, he met your gaze and raised his brows.

“What?” He murmured.

You suddenly realized you had never seen him so…vulnerable before.

He was still confident, still in control. But something about the way he looked and spoke had softened to an extreme degree. It was like sex was something important to him.

Maybe he wouldn’t just fuck you once and then instantly get rid of your body.

Maybe he would actually keep you around.

And you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

You stared at him for a long moment, then you shook your head.

“Nothing.” You whispered. “I’m just…”

“Nervous?”

You nodded.

He hummed softly. Before you could look down to catch a glimpse of him in his bare form, he gently tipped up your chin and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“We can still stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Your voice sounded more confident now. More like someone you didn’t know, but slowly grew to like.

He looked at you for a long moment, before he eventually released your chin. You slowly tilted your face down, your gaze following the sharp contour of his hard body.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by your staring. If anything, he seemed curious. Like he hadn’t been admired like that in long.

Your gaze stopped on his hardened length, thick and long enough to ravage you and throbbing. He was obviously more than eager, but he held himself back without flinching. You were almost disbelieving of such calmness.

You licked your lips as your gaze slowly glided back up to meet his eyes. The look in them hadn’t changed. Determined and ready. But still soft.

You knew at some point he would snap back into that other persona, into the cruel and scary man that he so often was.

But all you saw now was this softness.

And that was all you cared about.

It looked like he was about to ask again, to make sure again, but the look in your eyes stopped him.

You were nervous. And trembling. And even a tad bit scared.

But you were no less determined than he was.

He slowly pressed himself closer, slowly rubbing himself against you. A soft whimper came over your lips and he seemed to have to hold himself back from making any sounds.

He reached up his free hand and gently cupped your cheek. And then he slowly pressed forward.

Carefully. Gently. Inch by inch.

His eyes stayed focused on yours the entire time, checking your reaction.

The moment you felt him press against you, press inside you, you exhaled a small breath.

It was…

Painful. Mostly painful.

You bit your lip to suppress the hiss of pain which still found its way past your mouth. He hesitated to move forward, but eventually continued.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He whispered.

It was more of a pressure, feeling as tight as a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Yes.” You whispered. “But I don’t want you to stop.”

He clenched his jaw and slowly pushed forward. It was like he was two people at once. One wanted to be careful and gentle and not hurt you, while the other one seemed all too eager to thrust forward and ravage you like a beast in heat.

But he held himself back.

You were sure it was just for tonight.

But he did it. For you.

And you needed him even more, because of that.

A sharp pain shot through your body and you released a soft sound, a mixture of a moan and a sob. But a few seconds later the pain finally dissolved. And then you felt something else.

“God, you’re so tight.”

He slowly began to move again, going slow and careful at first. You felt more and more of him, until you finally felt all of him.

Your nails dug into the skin of his back and you inhaled sharply when he thrust into you harder than before.

Something was off, you could tell. He clenched his jaw tightly and stared down at you with furrowed brows.

And suddenly it hit you.

He was holding himself back for your sake, you knew that.

But you had no idea how hard it was for him to hold himself back.

He had promised you a sweet, gentle, loving first time and that was what he wanted to give you. But what you saw behind his eyes was something akin to pain. He wanted to go harder. He was desperate to.

He was obviously desperate to do many things.

“You can go harder.” You whispered, almost reassuringly.

He shook his head.

“It’s alright.” You whispered again. “The pain passed.”

“That’s not the problem.” He whispered as he rolled his hips against you deliciously, forcing a moan over your lips.

“Then what is?” You breathed out.

“If I go harder now, then I can’t stop. I won’t.” He whispered and gently cupped your cheek in his hand again.

Almost involuntarily, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, before you met his gaze again. Now you were filled with even more determination.

“Yes, you can.” You whispered, sounding almost firm. “Go harder. Just a little.”

He seemed unsure, but eventually he did. He moved harder against you, more urgently, but not quite rough yet. Still, his eyes fell shut and a moan fell from his lips.

A particular hard thrust as well as his reaction caused you to moan in return and close your eyes as well.

His head fell forward and he buried his face in his your neck. His harsh breaths made you shiver and sigh.

“I made a promise to you. And I’ll keep it.”

That made you gently tangle your hand in his hair again and pull back, just enough to look at him.

There was something in your eyes that made him pause.

“What?” He murmured breathlessly.

You looked up at him with wide eyes and whispered: “I want you to fuck me.”

His brows furrowed. “I am-“

“No.” You breathed out. “I want you to fuck me the way you want.”

He stared down at you for a long moment.

“But I might hurt you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, gently cupping his face in your palms.

“I said, fuck me.”

And immediately something in his expression changed. A part of the lunatic who had murdered a man came back. It was scary, really.

But you weren’t scared.

You were fascinated.

And oh, you were aroused.

He started moving harder against you, thrusting deeper into you and then he released a low growl.

“Are you giving me orders”, he breathed, “or are you begging me?”

You gasped for air when he thrust into you even harder. The ache between your legs got worse, the need deeper. And his pace more and more punishing.

“Begging.” You gasped out. “I’m begging you.”

“Then beg me.” He hissed. As if to emphasize his point, he began to move even faster against you.

“Please.” You moaned out.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” You whispered breathlessly. You felt your face flush so hard, it was almost painful, but for the first time in your life you didn’t care. You said the word, because you wanted to say it. And you let him fuck you, because you damn well wanted to.

And suddenly the spell was broken.

“Fuck. Oh God. Please. Fuck me.”

The harder he moved, the more intense that feeling inside of you became.

You never came before from the feeling inside of you, only ever by stimulating your clit.

This was new, it was intense, it was insane, it was-

“Who are you?” He hissed out in a voice that was near furious.

“Your girl.” You gasped out without hesitation. “I’m your girl.”

“Good girl.” He leaned his head down and gave you a long kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth aggressively while he began to pound even harder into you.

Before you could protest (as if you would have) he pinned your wrists down against the mattress. You were completely at his mercy, you belonged to him and you were in love with him.

You were fucked.

“Who are you?” He bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a pained moan and pressed your hips up against his.

He moaned into your mouth. “Good girl.”

Then he grabbed your thigh and yanked your leg over his waist, pressing himself even deeper into you. His movements were bordering on aggressive and your moans became louder and more and more breathless. Just like his own.

That was what had been missing back when he pressed into you so gently and carefully.

And you realized you never wanted to miss it again.

“Who are you?” He breathed out again.

“Your girl.” You gasped out.

He hummed and leaned down to bite down on your neck, only to soothe the bite with his tongue a moment later. “That’s right. My cumslut. My good girl. My whore. My princess.”

Each and every word that left his lips made you feel more and more wicked, more desperate to feel him deeper and harder, which you did.

He moved against you with a fervor that bordered on painful and you loved every second of it.

It was painful. But you suddenly realized what you never knew before.

There was a good kind of pain. It existed.

“Are you close, princess?” He breathed before he bit down on your earlobe, causing you to release a soft whine.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was moan, after moan, after moan. So you simply nodded.

He growled in response and pressed your wrists down even harder.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, princess.” He hissed. With a few quick, rough thrusts more, you felt your eyes roll back and your back arch off of the bed and against him.

If what you felt earlier had been an orgasm, you needed a new word for this.

The feeling was so hard and intense, it was almost unpleasant by how fucking good it was.

You wanted to cry and scream out his name, but all you could do instead was dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to scratch down to his blood.

He growled again and started moving so furiously that you felt like you were being torn apart, until you finally felt him twitch and throb inside you. The sounds he made were good enough to almost make you cum again and you watched with half-lidded eyes as he rode out his release, giving a few deep thrusts into you and releasing deep inside you.

Your body was still twitching and writhing underneath him. He kept his eyes closed and rested his forehead against yours. When he tried to pull back, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Wait.” You whispered breathlessly. “Not yet. Just…Can we just stay like that? Just for a moment?”

He slowly opened his eyes and met your gaze and to your great surprise…They were still soft. Even more so than before.

“Of course.” He whispered and buried his face in your neck. He slowly lowered himself back down on you, just enough so he wouldn’t crush you.

You were both breathing heavily and your hands were warm and damp with sweat.

“Was that alright for a first time?” He suddenly whispered.

And you did something that you hadn’t done in a while and you had been sure you wouldn’t ever again.

You smiled.

“Yes.” You whispered. “It was perfect.”

He pulled his head back and raised a brow. “Not too rough?”

You shook your head.

He hummed as he observed your smile for a moment.

“I held myself back.” He murmured. “I can’t be gentle next time.”

You looked at him with a soft expression and nodded.

“I know. I remember your words.”

He reached out a hand and gently touched your cheek.

“You should know one thing, darling.” He suddenly whispered.

Your eyes widened and you listened intently. Still, a part of you expected a low, painful blow.

But you couldn’t tell if it ever came.

His words left you torn.

“I’ll never let you go."

___________________________________________

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If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

[dinogoofymutated]

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

    You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

    You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

    Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

    Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

     Maybe not.

    Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

    “Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear? 

    oh.

    Oh. 

    You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

    You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

    First thing you do? Go to the store.

    It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know? 

    So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is. 

    You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you. 

    You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

    It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

    Holy shit. 

    Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

    You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him. 

    You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway,  waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

    “Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

    “Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

    “What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

    “What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

    “Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing. 

    “Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

    “Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

    “It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield. 

    “Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

    “I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed. 

    “Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

    “Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it. 

    “No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

    “Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession. 

    “...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

    “Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

    “You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night. 

    He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

    “...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

    “Fuck”

    You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

    You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

    “Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed. 

    He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

    “Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

    “Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face. 

    “Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

    “Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit. 

    “Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so. 

    “Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it. 

    “Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

    “Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down. 

    You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

    “Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

    “...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

    “Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream. 

    “Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

    “I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

    “Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

    Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right. 

    Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

    “Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you. 

    “Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

    His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again. 

    You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

    Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

    “Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

    You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter. 

    Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

    The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

    “Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

    “Tell you what?”

    “That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

    “Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

    “You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

    “You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

[cixerr]

DAISUKE X READER HEADCANONS 🌺

NSFW - MDNI 🔞

I've been so fixated on Daisuke and have built up some headcanons over time. Thought it'd be nice to share them here hehe

I know these have been said countless times and er. Well it's not my fault that we all think the same! I guess it's just very easy to tell all the shit he'd be into lol. I'll try to go a bit more indepth with them too so enjoy <3

no specified gender for the reader. But they are a tit and pussy haver

Well without further ado, let's get on with it!

🌺 - oral oral ORAL. His favourite form of sex by far. He LOVES eating out your pussy. And he can go on for HOURS. sorry I don't make the rules 🫶 (also sit on his face...he says please....)

🌺 - VERY big on tits and thighs.

Loves to squeeze and shove his face in your breasts. He also enjoys licking/biting/sucking your nipples - bonus points if they're pierced *wink*

CRUSH HIS FACE WITH YOUR THIGHS DAMNIT.

🌺 - he's EXTREMELY loud during sex (or even just makeouts tbh). Whimpering, moaning, groaning you name it he can NOT shut up. He'll try to, especially if you're in a more public setting, but it doesn't take long for him to break.

🌺 - same topic as above, you try to shut him up by pressing your hand to his mouth. This also doesn't work too well as he ends up either biting down on your hand too hard or wanting your fingers in his mouth.

🌺 - massive praise kink... call him a good boy and he's already about to cum.

Praise him throughout the entire session, he needs to hear that he's actually doing a good job to please you.

🌺 - i see him as a dom, but i like to think he's only a sub when it comes to vaginal sex. He's also a big fan of the cowgirl :3 (probably his least favourite cause he preferes giving but don't get me wrong he still really likes it!!)

🌺 - ohhh he is SUCH a begger. (Of course if he knows you're not 100% up to it he won't push you) He can be REALLY needy and desperate to do things with you. He eventually gets his way...it's hard to say no to someone like Daisuke after all...

🌺 - he isn't a one round type of guy. He can go for multiple in just one night (´ 3｀)

🌺 - he's always open and excited to try out new things. Even if they seem very extreme or he has little to no experience. Doesn't hurt to give things a go!

🌺 - aaaand finally he's really quick to get turned on. That's it. Just that. Oh what a freak.

[cwittr]

mine ೃ࿔

pairings. hwang in-ho x fem!reader

warnings. dead dove do not eat(?), mean!inho, harddom!inho, blood kink, impact play, knife play, aprox. 1 slap to the face and pussy, blood consuming (please don’t do this irl)

the front door of your shared home with hwang in-ho slammed shut so hard it shook the front room. in-ho was shaking with anger. his ears were red, his lips curved into a snarl, and his teeth ground together. you twirled your hair anxiously, praying that soon he would break the painful silence between the two of you.

you knew you fucked up big time. if only you weren't so naïve. and if only you hadn't worn that sultry pink dress. you thought it was cute, you had bought it just for him. but rafe hated it. it's not because of the colour or the length, it was a beautiful dress, but it drew so much attention to you. even his college couldn't help but eye you down before his wife slapped his shoulder.

in-ho knew what that man wanted from you the second he started the conversation. he lurked and watched, thinking you would get the hint of what he wanted. but you didn't. you sat on the barstool at the bar, giggling at what he was saying. that was what set him off. the mans eyes were on your chest almost the entire conversation, inching closer to you by the second. in-ho’s hands balled into fists until his knuckles were white.

he stormed over to you, grabbed your wrist and pulled you away. "uh-babe? what are you doing let go !" you squealed while squirming around, trying to escape his tight grasp. "let's go. now." he said through gritted teeth, his grip around your wrist tightening. "but i was just talki-" he yanked you through the club’s front door.

"thanks for having us man, sorry we gotta leave early. i'll see you monday." he called out to his friend before slamming the door behind him, not bothering to wait for a response from him. his grip on your wrist stayed tight as ever, his hand seemingly never going limp or getting tired.

the car ride home was nauseatingly quiet. the unnatural silence made it seem like a four hour drive when in reality it was less than 15 minutes. his large, veiny hands gripped the steering wheel so hard there was an imprint of where they once were. you threw him little glances every couple minutes, desperately trying to get his attention.

the car eventually made a sharp left turn and came to an abrupt stop. he swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt and slammed his car door shut, walking over to open yours. though in-ho was mad at you, downright furious, he was still a gentleman.

he threw his coat on the bench and untied his shoes. "bedroom. no clothes, edge of bed. you have five minutes." he said in a cold monotone voice, facing towards the mirror on the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. "if you even think of pulling some shit you’ll regret being born." he added.

you scrambled upstairs, stripping your clothes off as you ran through the hallway and into the bedroom. while waiting you applied your cherry flavored lipgloss, his favorite, tied your hair into his favorite style, praying that it would take points off your punishment.

after what felt like an eternity, in-ho finally walked in, shutting the door behind him and locking it. he scoffed when he saw your appearance. any other time he would've praised you and told you how sweet you were for getting all dolled up for him. but not this time.

"you've been a bad girl tonight." he murmured as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"i know sir.. but m' really sorry!! i wasn't tryi-" your whining was cut off by a harsh slap across your left cheek.

"did i say you could talk, pet?" he spat. his eyes were darker than ever before, his pupils dilated in a sense of sexual hunger. you shook your head, looking down at your bare thighs. he harshly grabbed your jaw to make you look at him.

"lay down on the bed on your back. i'll be back in a minute." he said with a dark tone. you were scared. but you knew if you resisted him would just make it worse.

"yes sir.." you said in a soft, shaky voice. he walked unlocked the door and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. did i cross the line? you thought to yourself. is he gonna hurt me? what if he goes too far? you laid down on the bed, propping yourself up with your shoulders to see what's going on.

in-ho came back with something black and shiny that you could quite make out. once he got closer you saw what it was; a switchblade. you whimpered and squirmed. a mix of fear and arousal boiled inside of you, terrified of what he could do to you, but eager for it to happen.

he pulled you by your legs to the edge of the bed, forcing them open to reveal your soaked cunt. he chuckled and ran his long middle finger down your slit before slapping your dripping pussy. you squealed and closed your legs. you had been waiting for this all night, but would it be too much?

he forced your legs back opened and slapped your thigh harshly. "keep them open." he growled. you nodded quickly. "..yes sir" you whimpered. he opened the blade and caressed your inner thigh with the sharp tip. "what's your safe word, angel?" he asked softly. you melted, submitting completely. it was like he had a magic spell on you. he was such a sweetheart, even when he was angry with you. "yellow.." you mumbled while biting your fingernails anxiously.

he hummed in satisfaction. he opened your legs wider so he could press the blade up against your inner thigh, making you whimper in fear. "m' gonna mark you as mine, ‘kay? so if any other guy tries to play with my pussy they’ll see my name” he said with a condescending smirk on his face. you nodded slowly.

he pressed the sharp blade against your delicate skin, a small stream of blood gushing down your thigh. you whined again and squirmed, it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would but you were still scared. "stay still, don't want you losing too much blood." you tried your hardest to not squirm or flinch, but it was kind of hard not to when your husband is cutting his name into you.

when he was finally pleased with his handiwork, in-ho licked every last drop of blood off of his blade and stuck it back into his pocket. as you began to scoot back, he grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“you didn’t think we were finished yet, did you doll?”

[nisuna]

Are my reoccurring kinks becoming more and more evident hmmm I wonder

But anyway, let's just say I finally got inspired over the weekend 🤫😉

<3masterlist<3

Strictly 18+ MDNI

TW: stepcest, doggy, bj, camgirl!reader x yuji, different positions; use of good girl, nii-chan, whore once; creampie, consensual filming, sex tape, sex stream, mentions of ass fucking, spanking, yuji's an ass man through and through, he's crazy strong as always<3

You never got along with your parents, but you liked your brother very much, he was always there for you so you missed him a lot when he moved out and just tried to survive day by day, but as soon as you turned 18 you packed your bags and moved in with him.

He was a bit confused when he first saw you at his doorstep but he understood. Things are hard at home. So you've been living together for a few years now and everything was going well. You could even hide your little secret from him this whole time. You always made sure that he wasn't at home before you started your stream. Until you didn't one day. You swore he told you that he'll be gone for the night, probably at some friend's party you didn't really pay attention. You even went down to see him off and told him to have fun.

"You guys wanna see my brother fuck me? Oh god he always fucks me so good I wish you guys could see that!", you sighed and continued "You should see his arms, god I bet he could fuck me while standing. And his fingers are so thick and long he can reach much deeper, better than my tiny ones." you splayed your fingers out while you took a sip of your drink. Immediately a couple donations came in either begging or saying ME NEXT.

You chuckled to yourself, "Alright alright, I'll try to ask him, but he's very camera shy guys I'm sorry.", you pouted at the camera. As you proceeded to chat and pick out some toys for today you unfortunately failed to notice the door opening and your brother lean against the door frame

"You fucking minx", he thought to himself. When he first heard his friends talk about a new hot camgirl they found he didn't pay much attention. But when they eventually got him to look his jaw dropped as he quickly snatched the laptop from his friends.

"Eeyy not fair we saw her first!", they protested, but Yuji was having none of it. That's definitely you and that's defintely your room in HIS house. So that's why you always want him out of the house especially on weekends. Is that the reason you wanted to move in with him so quickly, to slut yourself out? What happened to his sweet little sister, maybe he shouldn't have moved out so soon. He felt guilty for leaving you alone he, felt like wasn't a good enough brother for you to resort to something like that-

"Aww I wish you guys could see my my brother he's soo big it just doesn't feel the same without him", you whined while drilling yourself with a dildo. You have got to be shitting me.

"Yeah she talks about him all the time I wonder what he looks like. Chat always goes crazy whenever she mentions him."

Yuji thanked the heavens that they haven't met you yet. God have you mentioned his name before please no.

"Want me to moan his name? Guuyyss he's shy, but because of all of those donations I'll make an exception this once." you winked and went on with your little show, "Yeah you're so good oh god Yu-", nope not doing that, he thought while he slammed the laptop shut.

"HEY party pooper she was about to say his name and be careful that shit was expensive."

"Yeah sorry."

So that's when he set up his plan to catch you in the act. He pretended to leave like usual, but as soon as he heard you run up the stairs he snuck back in and got ready to pounce.

"Y-yuji what are you doing here", you choked as you tried to cover yourself with whatever was laying around.

"Me? You're asking me what I'm doing in MY house?"

"No.. I mean aren't you supposed to be at that party..", you trailed off.

"You wish huh.", he sighed, walking in and closing the door behind him.

You didn't know what to do with yourself as you felt him get closer to you. As soon as you reached out to turn off the camera he stopped you.

"What are you-"

"Don't play coy now, lets go do what we alway do right?"

You were dumbfounded. Huh.

"Cmon, put that mouth to good use."

So that's how you ended up here with your step-brothers cock down your throat while he was filming your face. He had an iron grop on your hair, almost suffocating you with the way he was moving. He was not only bulky and buff body wise but his cock definitely wasn't lacking.

yn's footstool: how do we even stand a chance if he looks like that and he's your standard?? no womder you always talk about him

yn's cumdump: whoa that's better than when she's sucking the dildo

yn's doormat: cumshot cumshot cumshot cumshot bukake

feetluvr77: whoa i can see it in her throat

"C'mon put on a show they are loving it. This is what you've always wanted to do right?", he pulled you off his dick making you cough and suck in a deep breath. Oh you felt so fucked out already, eye make-up smeared and he hasn't even started yet.

"Cmon lay down, 'm gonna fuck you like you always tell them I do." As soon as you laid down on your back he pulled you close and pushed right in without a warning. Your eyes shot open as you tried to muffle a moan.

"Oh that was a good shot, keep it up."

You were so so embarrassed but all of that faded when he started to move, making your eyes roll back and tongue loll out. You always knew he was big, seeing him without a shirt around the house was nothing new but seeing him right now while he was drilling his cock into you it just hit different.

"Yn?"

"Hmm?", you mewled through teary eyes.

"Play with yourself, don't just lay there this is work afterall right?"

You groaned but still reached over to roll your hardened nipples between your fingers and looking directly into the camera.

"That's it, that's a good girl.", he praised while squeezing your thigh and keeping a steady rhythm. "God I can see myself in your tummy, you're so tiny."

Donations were through the roof right now, flooding your ears with requests and remarks.

"Oh, someone said do a peace sign!"

Definitely not-

"Don't be like that, give the people what they want." and with a particularly hard thrust he had you throwing your head back while reluctantly holding up two of your fingers.

"Now smiiileee for the camera. Good girl~"

Oh this was so embarrassing, but it was starting to get you off so you played along. His rhythm faltered for a bit before pulling out and turning you over to your stomach with one arm. He really was strong you always forgot.

"Now, on all fours gotta give them a view of that perfect ass.", you obeyed, turning around and giving the audience the deepest arch you could manage.

"Oh yeah thats it"

After zooming right in to where you two were connected, he went to town. There was already a white ring frothing at his base. God how has he never noticed your ass before, that thing's huge and in this position your waist to hip ration looked ridiculous. His huge hand just looked perfect when spreading and spanking your cheeks. Careful or he'll cum in a few strokes.

He felt like you were reaching your limit, so he pushed even further.

"Fucking whore wants to get railed by her brother. You should've just told me you wanted me to fuck you. You didn't have to lie to your audience, I would have fucked good everyday if you said so sooner.", between his words he spanked your reddening asscheeks and god you were getting close. What you didn't expect though, was for him to spit on your ass and massage it over your puckering rim.

"Stay tuned for next stream, I'll fuck her ass."

"Nooo~", you whined reaching back  only for him to grab your arm and force it against your back.

"Don't lie to me, we all know you want everything stuffed don't we, guys?"

Yn's cumsock: Hell yeah!

Feetluvr77: "Make her call you nii-chan or some shit"

You tried to muffle your sobs in the pillow below you, but Yuji had other plans. Before you could react he pulled your back flush against his hard chest kissing and licking down the expanse of your neck while flipping the camera and getting a nice view of your smeared fucked out face.

"For old time's sake tell your nii-chan how good he's making you feel, what do you say? If you do you're allowed to cum, alright?"

He felt you hesitate in his hold.

"Hey what's wrong? You were always soo", thrust, "cute when you called me nii-chan when you were little, what happened to you? Gotta get my cute and obedient little sister back.", a particularly hard thrust almost made you topple over, but his strong grip held you up without a problem.

"Ah- no it's embarrassing..", you moaned at his mean thrusts.

"Say it or you won't cum."

He's as annoying as ever, but you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Feels good, yeah so so good nii-chan thank you. Please can I cum I'm such a good little sister right? Letting you use me however you like please~~"

"Yeah? Good job. Now play with your clit and cream on my cock.", he groaned into your ear and you thanked the heavens. Your hand immediately went to play at your sensitive nub. And with his praises and mean thrusts in his strong hold you felt yourself come undone. Luckily he got the money shot of your blown out eyes and gaping mouth right on camera.

"Thaaaat's it good~", he mused fucking you through your high and holding your limp body before stuffing you to the brim and filling you up as well. "You better take it all, 'm gonna make ya nice and plump."

After he sent you down he pointed the camera at your exposed cunt. "Now push some of it out" when he didn't get any reaction from you he gave you a spank and that did the trick as you felt his cum drip out of you and down your leg, "oh yeah that's it look at that guys." You could see how proud he was by his smug grin and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at the camera.

"Any last words?", he questioned while he saw your huffing form as he directed the camera to your face.

Feetluvr77: God I never came this quick and much holy shit best stream so far

A couple comments came as you were saying your goodbyes and with a wave and kiss the camera was turned off. As soon as Yuji laid it back on your desk and was about to comment, a pillow came flying his way, almost knocking him over.

"Ayoo what was that for??"

"Shut up!! Why did you do that?"

"What do you mean? You liked it didn't you?"

You definitely couldn't argue with that, so you just huffed and tried to cover yourself with your blanket. He felt a little panicked at that and went to sit by your side.

"It was okay right? That we did it on camera I mean."

"Yeah it's fine that's what I do. I've always wanted to invite someone over to do it, but I never expected it to be you.." you trailed off not daring to look at him.

"Ohoo, but you always talk about me don't you? Why did you not just ask me?"

"Because it's weird asking my step-brother to have sex with me, it's that cringe step bro porn trope I didn't think you'd be interested in that. And what if someone recognizes you isn't that weird?", you looked at him, cheeks still pink.

"No, we can do it again, I don't mind. Actually I kinda-", he trailed off and you felt a little hopeful only to be let down. "Depending on my cut of course. By the way how much do you even make and will I see some of that for my hard work?"

You groaned and tried to shove him away, but he's built like a wall and didn't even budge.

"I do make quite a lot" when you told him the exact number his eyes shot open.

"That much a month??"

"Per week most of the time."

"What? Then why the hell do you even still live with me?", he was dumbfounded.

"I don't know, it's comfortable and I like being around you I guess.", you said honestly, he was not only easy on the eyes but actually really kind and helpful most of the time.

"Unbelievable, but fine by me" he chuckled shaking his head but came right back, "soooo when do we do it again and what do we do? Also I gotta practice my camera work. I have a lot on my mind, how about-"

Before he could finish you slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a drawn out sigh. Oh boy this will be more work than you anticipated.

-------

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

[deaddovediner]

Dirty Little Secret (!dad Lucius Malfoy x !daughter reader)

warnings/triggers: Incest, Fingering, Sex, Creampie, Choking, Daddy kink, Just overall filth once again.

word count: 2011

anon request-

Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

You were at Hogwarts all day and there wasn't much to do since it was getting near to one of the breaks where you could finally go home. It was a boring day, except at potion brewing class, Snape decided to subtract points from the Slytherins because you and Fred were causing trouble, as always. 

After classes you went to the girls dorm and started packing your stuff, it was only two days left till the break. Draco said he was already done packing and that you should most definetly start packing sooner or later cause dad will hear about it if not. So with a big sigh you grabbed one of your luggages and sorted out what you can already pack in there. Hours passed and everyone in your room filled in, a few girls packing, others chatting, exchanging the newest rumors and giggling. Gladly after some time you were done with most of the packing and only left out what you needed for these two days ahead.

The days flew by and a few blinks later those two days were gone and you were in a wagon with Draco on the train back to home. Draco was a pain in the ass the whole trip, but you grew up to bear him, he's not the brother everyone would like to have, yet he has his own advantages, which means advantages for you, too.

"Can you just shut the fuck up for once? Someone's trying to sleep here, if you haven't noticed." You point to yourself as you lay on one side of the wagon. You make a mental note to never again agree to be in the same wagon as your brother, or you'll eventually kill eachother.

"I will never understand why dad loves you better- but fine, I'll keep my thoughts to myself. You're no fun." He finally turned away and took out a book to read, you closed your eyes and let yourself float to sleep. However that comment Draco made about you and dad made you smirk before you finally gave in to the slumber.

~~^^~~

When you woke the train already arrived and so you grabbed your bag and luggages then went to search for Lucius, your dad. He was standing near the train station, Draco by his side. They looked so alike, the white blond hair you also had and the green eyes, it was impossible to think otherwise. Lucius waved at you and it made you smile; you always loved your dad. He was the best, well, with you.

The two of you had a secret relationship besides all the family drama, sometimes the two of you would meet up in his office to blow off some steam and forget life for an hour or two. It was always consensual but that doesn't mean it wasn't kinky, you still called him dad or even daddy just to remind him of what you two are doing. He would react wild to it and you loved that, even just at the thought, you were getting wet.

"Hi dad! I missed you-" You walked up and greeted him, along with a small peck on the cheek, 'stay innocent- for now.' your thoughts drifting to those good times, you can't wait for them to be reality again, but you'll have to wait, you can't just french him in public, so you kept those naughty thoughts at bay.

Every minute, second that went by seemed like hours. Once you arrived at the malfoy mansion it was like stepping through the gates of heaven, you let out a sigh and inhaled the smell of your childhood, it was beautiful for one second, of course Draco had to come and ruin it.

"What are you doing shit head?! Are you going to stand there all day? If so let me just hang my clothes on you-"

"Draco Malfoy! Leave your sister alone, I'm sure she's tired from the long ride and does not want to hear you running your mouth. Go to your room, pack out, then go ask your mother if there is anything you could help with, she was whining all week that she needs a man around the house when I'm at work. Be useful for once-" Lucius interrupted him and you couldn't help but grin at Draco, it was a satisfactory to not be under his control whatsoever since dad would keep him away from you. You were his little girl, his everything and Draco knew, not about the sex though.

Draco left to do as he was told and you didn't wanted to waste a single other second, so you practically threw yourself at Lucius. Your hands all over him while kissing, there was hunger in that kiss, he wanted this just as much as you did. It was beautiful, to be so vulnerable and open to him, at last he pulled away from the passionate kiss.

"Darling~ We don't want anyone to see us... Go wait for me in my office, dad will come in a few minutes- be ready for me, sweetheart." A little pout made him smile but you didn't whine and did as you were told.

His office was just as it always was, messy yet sorted through. Your panties were already soaked, needy for daddy's dick. Impatience took over you so you sat in his chair and undressed into lingerie, a few fingers massaging the wet fabric of your panties. You didn't notice when Lucius came into the room, but while you were touching yourself you felt him kiss your neck from behind the chair. A small shiver went down your spine at the thought of him watching you masturbating in his chair.

"Keep going sweetie- I love seeing you like this, so needy, so beautiful for dad..." He whispered into your ear and went back to devouring your neck, placing soft and fierce kisses everywhere. A small moan left your mouth without noticing, the only thing you noticed was that his hand was now helping yours to find the pleasure you were aching for.

His hand slipped into your panty and you made a guttural moan, your body jerking towards his hand by reflex. His other hand coming up to cover over your mouth, muffled moans against his calloused hand were the only sound besides the sloppy sounds of him fingering you. You could feel his breath against you ear as he stood behind the chair.

"Come for me, I know you're almost there, I can feel the way you cling to my fingers-" You didn't need more, but just to make sure you will come, he curled his fingers just right. A single tear slid down your face at the pure pleasure and he licked it off of your face. You rode out the rest of the orgasm, aftershocks hitting you here and there.

"Good girl- now, I need you to give me your safe word, the usual." He praised in that sweet tone.

"Morsmordre. Don't worry dad, I'm sure we'll not have to use it- I've been thinking about this for the last week. No one fucks as good as you do, daddy."  Your voice is breathy, still affected from the orgasm, but he nodded and smirked at you.

"Lay on the table, your back should be to me, let me see that ass." Without further ado you obeyed him, you lay there on his office table, stomach against it and legs apart. "You're so beautiful, my little girl."

He didn't warn you before intruding your pussy, a yelp of both pain and pleasure came out of you but you held your place. He grabbed your hands and put them behind your back, clutching them together with one hand of his as he started to move in you. So you were plastered against the desk, his cock moving in and out of you slowly at first but each thrust became harder and faster. 

"Ah- fuck me dad! Ahm-" Words were hard to form when it felt so good to be under him this way. He didn't needed to be told twice though, and kept up with his pace, his hand sometimes spanking your ass, the sting compensating with the amount of pleasure he's making you feel. The way his hard cock draws out from deep inside you only to be thrusted back again, and again. It's like heaven and hell at the same time, his rough touch besides the fullfiling feeling of getting fucked, like the angels and devils made this sensation too good to be true.

"I heard you are a trouble maker at school. I should punish you for that-" He let go of your clasped hands and pulled out of you before you could reach your orgasm. You whined and stood from the table turning around.

"Snape hates me- I swear I wasn't doing that much trouble."

"That much? So you were causing some trouble, you're a naughty daughter. Dad must punish you now." And with that he picked you up into his arms, your legs went around his torso and you could feel his hard dick between the two of you.

"You will not get to come until you promise me to be a good girl in school!" He positioned himself to your wet opening and thrusted back in, a yelp of pleasure left you but it got cut off cause he wrapped a hand around your throat to keep you silenced. "For now, you'll have some time to think about it..." His other hand was cupping your ass to keep you on him. Your hand ran through his soft and long white-blond hair, he kept thrusting in and out of you, each time hitting that sweet and soft spot that made you shudder; but he never made enough friction to make you cum, just like he said.

He completely cut off your circulation and only let you gasp in precious air so much. It was all too much yet not enough at the same time. A few sloppy minutes passed like that after you nodded viciously, too needy to think about anything else then to finally cum again. He let go of your throat and waited for your answer.

"I-" Thrust. "Promise," Thrust. "to be" Thrust. "a good girl." That was all he needed to hear and he kissed you harsh. The hand that was on your throat before making a descend to circle against your clit, he knew how you liked it, soft and slowly a complete opposite as to how he's fucking you.

Your body needed nothing more to succumb to the pleasure he was denying you of before. Not long after you turned to nothing less but liquid he filled you up with his own fluids. The two of you staying in that position for some seconds, calming down from the pure ecstasy. 

He pulled out of you and not even a second after his semen started dripping out of you, making you smile. With a soft kiss on your forehead he let go of you and opened his drawer, the one that was for the two of you, it always had a few towels and toys, it's like a little secret drawer, full of fun things. 

Lucius went into the adjoined bathroom and came back with a now wet towel, it was cute that each time you two had sex, he cleaned you up and made sure that you're okay. Now was no different either, the wet towel made a soft contact with your skin and it made you tremble just a bit, the sensation so much different from the earlier minutes. With a long relaxed sigh you let him take care of you.

"I love you dad. Thank you." Once he was done cleaning both himself and you, you hugged him. No one knows how good of a dad he is but you, and that made you both sad and happy. Sad because no one will give him credit for being so good to you, and happy because he was all yours, and this was your small little dirty secret. He hugged you back and kissed the top of your head.

"I love you too, sweetie."

[cuntyhunty22]

Good men die too, oh I'd rather be with you.

Paring: joel x reader

Description: Joel is a regular at your bar, you rely on him for comfort and advice, feelings are there but the line was never crossed (until one night) he saves you from you toxic abusive boyfriend

Outbreak isn't a thing.

Tags: smut. Dirty talk. Daddy kink. Daddy issues. Sexual tension. Domestic violence. Mature language. Cream pie. Gun mentioned.

This is my first story in a long time. It's gonna be broken up into parts because it's longer than I anticipated. Bare with me 🫶🏼

It was a hot Monday afternoon at Bucks Bar and Grill. It's just a little hole-in-the-wall bar in this small southern town. Everyone who comes here knows each other. You have worked here since you were 18; you are 29 now, so it's kinda like family. They all have watched you grow up, been there for you through all your trials and tribulations... your issues with your absent father, your alcoholic mother, and now your very toxic narcissist of a boyfriend.

It's about 4:30 when people start coming in as the day whines down, mainly people who've been up at it all day come in around this time..and you look around in hopes one of your favorites shows up… Joel Miller.

He's a great guy and someone you have always looked for advice from. I guess he was the closest to a father figure in your life. From just coming to talk to at the bar or inviting you to cookouts at Tommy and Maria's. Which you have always been too chicken to show up to because your boyfriend would go fuckin mental if you did. And just like clockwork, he walks through the door. Tight teeshirt, worn-in blue jeans, and some work boots. His salt-and-pepper hair more curly than usual. You aren't gonna dismiss the fact that he's a very handsome man; you've always thought that. But I suppose it's been something you've never really thought in your brain, with him being over 20 years older than you and the fact you’re still in this shitty relationship you can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try, how many times he's cheated, how many times he's put his hands on you. You stay. It's probably the abandonment issues, to be honest.

Hey, darlin’, how are you doing today? Joel says to you as he sits in his usual corner spot on the bar. You just look at him, and it's like he can read your face. "I'm okay, just getting through the day." You crack a smile trying to defuse the conversation. You knew that would eventually start because today you didn't wanna think about your issues. You just wanted to work, make money, and talk to your customers.

"Want your typical order?" Yeah darlin you already knew. You laugh "well Mr miller I seem to know what you like" you seen him smirk and his eyes get dark. Shit you thought.. did I just flirt with him. (Yes you did.) you set his whiskey down, along with a beer. As you do that he notices a light bruise on your cheek bone you attempted to cover with makeup. Darlin.. I don't mean to be rude but what the fuck is on your face.. he reaches up to gently brush your face ..did he- you cut him off. "It's nothing I'm just clumsy and I smacked my face off the sink getting out of the shower." Joel scoffs because he knew it was a lie clear as day. I've told you, you need to leave. You need to take care of yourself because if something happens to you.. he trails off his sentence like he just let more off than he's just a regular at your bar. " Joel I'm fine" you replied. "I have to go out to the shed and change a keg.. I'll be back if you need me."

You go back behind the bar to grab a new beer keg because one blew just before the rush came in and you finally have a moment to fix it. As you're walking outside you feel someone follow you.. here it is your shitty boyfriend paid you a visit. Hey I need $50 he says. " I gave you $100 this morning.. I don't have-" bitch I know you fucking do he yells.. you can tell he's been drinking more than he should have. As he raises his voice at you Joel appears just a few feet down eyeing the situation.

"I said I don't have it.. not until tomorrow.. why do you think I'm working open to close today." I don't know! Boyfriend screams. Probably because you get off on the attention these old men give you because you'd rather be here than be at home with me.. YOUR BOYFRIEND. "Well someone has to pay the bills instead of blowing money on drugs alcohol and who knows what the hell else." DONT YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING WHORE. You are nothing. You work in a bar. In these tiny ass shorts taking money from people that only wanna fuck you.. your gonna be nothing just like your parents.. he grabs your arm hard already leaving hand prints.. you notice Joel has moved just a bit closer with a lit cigarette in hand.

" here take my card there is some money on it, just leave me the fuck alone and don't come back here tonight." You are fighting back tears because this just answered what Joel was asking not even 20 minutes ago. Your boyfriend take the card lets you go and starts walking away. Joel still watching, as boyfriend passes by him. Whores I tell ya, boyfriend tries to joke with Joel.. and Joel looks at him with an expression you've never seen on him.. you've heard he has a dark side but you've never witnessed it until now.. if looks could kill your boyfriend would be dead on the gravel.

You felt so embarrassed.. you knew people knew the situation but you've done pretty good at no one witnessing the shit you deal with. As soon as your boyfriend was out of eyesight you felt this heavy embrace around you as you stand there sobbing. Hey hey hey darlin it's fine.. I'm here we are gonna fix this.. your head is buried into his chest. His warm body on yours, the smell of cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes has taken over your mind.. all these emotions flooding you.. your shitty boyfriend.. how much you hate him.. and oddly enough arousal from being touched gently by a man.. which hasn't happened in god knows how long..

his hands linger on your shoulder as you look up at Joel he's already staring at you. "I need to go back inside..." no he responds take a minute.. you pull away from him and all of a sudden you feel even more empty then you did before.. you came to the realization that you are touch starved and that just ignited a fire in you.

"I have to Joel.. I have to make money because he's going to spend it all, I know he is" you start to tremble again and Joel grabs your face, listen to me... as of right now nothing like this is ever going to happen to you ever again ya hear me...im going to take care of you... "WHY JOEL" you scream at him. "Why because I'm so fucking damaged , because you see a girl with issues and you automatically wanna save- Joel cuts you off by his lips crashing into yours, at first your hesitant and you try to fight it but you couldn't deny that this just what you needed, you needed to feel something besides hate and dread.

You give into the kiss and it gets deeper hungrier, his hands still holding both sides of your face just pulling him closer and close as the kiss gets more passionate you let out a soft moan and that made Joel go crazy. He picks you you up, your lips never leaving one another as you wrap your legs around him and he backs you up against the building, the kisses still building as if that's even possible, Joel's lips eventually leave yours to trace kisses down your neck gently biting, making that soft moan not so soft. Shhh darlin, does this feel good.? "Yes.. uh fuck. Joel put me down." He looks at you confused.

I'm sorry I shouldn't have- "no you should have..

I just hate that it took this situation for it to.. that I'm just not in the best situation right now for this to happen.. that people will have opinions on the age difference "

Then leave him. And fuck em

•

You go back in to finish your shift.. and Joel doesn't leave.. he watched you all night but this time instead of glances of making sure you were okay.. it was glances of pure lust.. pure want.

It's about 2 am now, your kicking everyone out And closing things down. And it hits you that you now have to go home... and you're really unsure if you should.. the bar finally cleared out.. except your kitchen closer.. and one man.. Joel was still here.

"I should get going." You're going home.? He asks concern all over his face. "Joel I have too.. if I don't it's gonna be worse if I do..." don't.. darlin please don't.. we will deal with him.. "Joel there is no we.. sure we shared a moment.. but I'm in a relationship.. and this.. this shouldn't happen I'm the same age as your daughter practically, you know how that will look on me.. on you.. what he will do.."

it kills you saying this because honestly it's the last thing you want to do is hurt a man who has been nothing but kind and caring.. and hell maybe there is something there.. that's the thing you know there is and that scares the hell out of you.

"So yes I am going home." At least let me drive you he says.. "I can't.." give me your phone he demands.. "what why." My number, my address it's there, and take this.. he hands you a wad of money.. you don't even want to know how much is there.. "absolutely fucking not.. Joel.. I can't take your money." You can and you will..he replies.. text me when you get home and I swear if anything goes down if he so much even tries to touch you. You call me. I'm being serious now I ain't playin I mean it you call. "Okay."

Promise me darlin... "I promise."

•

When you make it home it's about 3:15 am.. and your boyfriend isn't home... or so you thought.

"Hey I'm home.. you here.?" You still have your bookbag on.. and you hid the money Joel gave you. "Hello.?" You call out again..

*thud* *thud * followed by moaning..

you scof "you've got to be fucking jokin." You walk upstairs to find your boyfriend fucking another girl. "HEY WHAT THE FUCK" the girl screams. "In our bed!!??? I mean I knew your were shitty but this shitty.!?" He tosses the girl out of the bed and charges toward you.. you fuckin bitch , do you know you ruin my life.. that I have to cheat on you to even get laid.. when's the last time you let me touch you huh.?

He's screaming right in your face backing you up against the railing of the stairs. You shove him.. which you knew was a bad idea because that shove was followed by a punch to the face and a shove that sent you falling down the stairs.. good fuck you you cunt I hope you get brain damage.. oh by the way she sucks better dick than you.. and skinner.

You lay there for a second.. thankfully the fall wasn't as bad as it could have been. You took a quick second to regain your head because you knew he'd be coming down those stairs.. and as soon as you got to your feet here he came..

I need that money.. he screamed.. what did you make tonight being that little whore you are.. huh..? He's standing in front of you now.. give me your book bag. He demands. "No." If you don't give it to me now you bitch I swear to god.. "you swear what huh..?? That you'll hit me.. that you will rape me.. again..?? What else could you do.?"

I'll fucking kill you. He smirks. At the moment you reach for the pocket knife you put in your boot. He chuckled... oh am I supposed to be scared..?? "Don't fucking touch me.. I'm done here okay.. done.. I'm leaving." Fine go.. but give me the money you said you would.. "I gave you $150 in cash.. and there was at least $400 on my card.. what more do you need.!? I'm not giving you anything else ever again..!"

At this moment he's backing you up against the wall his hands heading toward your throat.. and before he could reach them you slice his arm.. YOU CUNT..!! And you took off running to your car.

•

•

You put your car and drive and sped out.. blacked out from trauma and adrenaline not knowing exactly where you were going until you arrived..

The house is what you would think for a well established contractor. Gorgeous but still very homey nothing over the top. You know it's so late and he's probably fast asleep. You're still spiraling as you bang on the door as hard as you can.. because you were unsure if he decided to follow you or if there was a tracker on your car..

"JOEL.! JOEL.! Please answer.. fuckk" and the door swings open and pulls you inside like lightning. Once you're in, he's holding you as you sob. Sob harder than you probably ever have in your whole life.. baby.. hey.. breathe for me okay.. he looks at you.. you need to breathe. " he- you choke- unable to catch your breath about to have a full blown anxiety attack. The knife still in your pocket but it's now stained your shorts with blood..

Joel looks down and then looks back up at you.. is that your blood..? His jaw clenches and his eyes black as the night. " his blood" you managed to say.. he relaxes a bit.. did he follow you..? "I don't think so.. I don't know.. there might be a tracker on my car but I'm unsure.." okay.. I'll go look. Give you a minute to calm down. Let me grab you something to change into... do you want a beer.? "Okay.. and yes.. but Joel..?" Yes darlin.? "Please don't leave me alone for long. I won't.. and thank you for keeping your promise. That made you crack a slight smile. He brings you out a big flannel to put on and a pair of sweats..

you changed collecting yourself in the bathroom. You ended up just wearing the flannel and underwear because it was over sized on you. You walk out into the living room Joel sitting on the couch two beers waiting. "I know you gave me pants but I hate pants and I just want to be comfortable so if it's inappropriate I'll put them on." He chuckles. Babygirl you are worried about not wearing pants.. of all things... you laugh "yeah that's kinda stupid to be the thing I'm worried about isn't it." Are we calmed down..comfortable.. anything else I can get you.? " I'm alright."

Okay.. walk me through what happened.. you explained everything to him.. tonight.. the past 2 years.. all of it. You can stay in the guest room until you figure things out.. I'm not letting anyone hurt you ever again okay... you are safe. "But what about your daughter.. will she be okay with me here, I don't wanna overstep..I'll drive to my parents.. it's better there than being with him."

No.

You are staying here. "Joel I just left someplace that dictated what I did please don't tell me what the hell I should do and where I should stay." He looked hurt. I didn't mean it that way darlin I'm sorry. I just know if you are here you are safe. Sarah will be fine. She comes and goes because she's at college. Not only that maybe you could be friends. You laugh. "Yeah okay be friends with the man's daughter who saved me.. and oh I had a hot make out session with him in the same night that I sliced my boyfriends arm - ex Boyfriend Joel pipes in.. "sounds like a great plan" Joel chuckels. Okay I didn't say it was perfect or ideal or hell not odd but you would be safe and frankly that's all I give a damn about.

•

It's about dawn now and you haven't slept at all.. darlin do you wanna try to sleep Joel asks. "Honestly I don't think I can.." come here.. Joel stretches out on the couch patting up to his chest.. you crawl up to him laying your head right down as he wraps his arms around you. Covering you with the safest you've felt. Do you think you could sleep now.? "No.. but I like this.." you let out a deep breath finally fully relaxing besides the butterflies you feel from being this close to Joel. As you exhale warm lips touch your forehead in a sweet kiss. Hmm..I'm sorry- Joel huffs..

" don't be.. " you lift up pushing your lips onto his and hunger hits.. the kiss was so eager so passionate. Your tongues caress one another begging for more pulling the kiss deeper and deeper as he bites your bottom lip.. you feel heat between your thighs building. " Joel fuck..-mhmm.." his lips leave yours finding your neck.. he goes straight to the spot that made you moan earlier.. as he does this your hands in his hair which is something you fantasized about. You did a slight tug and he himself let out a moan. God baby is this okay..he strares at you as his hands trace down under the flannel to your ass. Grabbing it.. literally worshiping it.. you moan again... I think that's my answer he chuckled.

He continues kissing that sweet spot on your neck and you just feel yourself flooding. Your hands roam around his body as you feel the bulge in his pants.. you carefully squeeze and Joel lets out this animal like moan. He grabs your hands being careful not to be too rough with everything you've been through.. baby don't worry about me let me take care of you..

he shifts you around legs on the floor and he gets between them. Kissing up your legs on your tattoos.. ya know.. I have always found these so sexy.. kissing continues upward. "Mhmmm is that -ahh fuck mhmm.." your sentence is interrupted the touch of his fingers grazing your heat through your panties.. can I take these off..?? He asks. And as much as this is heated he is so gentle with you.. which in this moment is what you needed. " yes" you whimper. He slides your panties off the sides your leg open wide for him to dive his tongue right into your wetness.

Mhmm- your- so- he manages to say between licks- so wet- so soft. You arch back pulling him more into you, grinding yourself on his tongue as he licks and sucks. " ahh I'm ahh fuck I'm-" he then slides 3 fingers in he doesn't even bother building it up because he knew you needed it. Fingers curling right where you need them, in and out of you at just the right pace. You couldn't hold it in anymore you've tried to contain it. The room is filled with your moans of ecstasy.. it all building up.. Joel still working on you, fingers in and it as he sucks gently on your bud.. you reach down and pull his face to you, your wetness on his beard but you didn't care, lips crashing together full of need as Joel still working woks his fingers on you..

"Joel - I " I know baby.. mhmm go'head I got you. Cum for me. Let go. And you did you let go. "Fuck oh my god.. Joel's lips back on yours as you catch your breath and the ecstasy of your orgasam washes away. Feel good? He asks.. "considering there is a puddle on the ground what do you think." Mhmm made a mess for me huh baby.. you blush as that hasn't happened in years. " yes." Let's wash up and try to sleep huh. Joel says. "Okay" you follow him to the bathroom then to his bedroom to sleep.

•

You wake the few hours in Joel's bed. Staring at the ceiling you're not sure how to feel. From pretty much stabbing your ex.. to having Joel give you the best oral you've ever experienced to now laying here naked in his bed. You roll over to find his spot Empty but a note was left.

*darlin I'm sorry to have you wake up alone, had to go check on a project, please text me when you wake.. I'll be day dreaming about drowning in that sweet wetness.*

-Joel

You can't help but to smile.. you check your phone to see you have 59 calls from an unknown number and texts.. which you assume are your ex.. you block and delete all of them.. knowing your going to have to change your phone number.. now you text Joel..

* as lovely as it was to ride your face and fingers I think there is some thing else I want to ride today.. (attached image ) you naked in his bed.

-incoming FaceTime : Joel miller

"Hi"

Hi darlin

"Old man I'm surprised you knew how to FaceTime"

Old.. he chuckles.. this old man knows how to do lots of things..

"I'm well aware"

You work today correct..? I'll be there when I'm finished.. this next part might freak you out but just listen to me.. there is a gun in the nightstand.. I want you to take it with you okay. No arguing just do it.

"Okay.. Joel... I woke up to a bunch of calls and messages im scared."

I know baby take the gun okay.. just precaution.. I'll see you later.. and we can talk about what else you're riding.. oh btw Tommy said hi.

"Jesus Christ Joel you told Tommy.!? Fine whatever hi Tommy. Okay see you later.

*facetime ends

•

You get dressed in clothes you had in your car.. little black skirt.. tank top and Joel's flannel. You pull your hair up into a clip.. doing your makeup the best you can to hide the new bruises.. grab the gun and head out the door.

It's about 4 when you get to work.. and if the timing is right Joel will be here in 45 mins.. when you get there the older lady who you work with pulls you into the kitchen. Sweetie pie you alright..? Your old man was in here looking for ya.. real distressed...said something about you owe him money.. you give in and you tell her everything.. what happened where you've been ..

she's the closest to a mother and if you want to be safe you need the truth out there.

Oh honey I'm so sorry she says.. "it's okay.. it's just time to move on and end this." Sooo Joel miller huh.. she chuckles I mean I can't blame ya he's a gorgeous man and an even better human.. he's been through it too ya know.. she looks at you. " I can tell but I don't ask.. I'm just thankful he exists.. but I'm worried people will judge.." do you think he could make you happy? She asks..

"honestly right now there is not many things I'm sure of.. but he is the one thing I am."

•

Joel walks in.. beautiful as ever. You don't know if it's the left over feelings from making a mess In his living room or if he has always been this attractive.. he hasn't even touched you and you feel a heat between your legs.. but today it's ruthless.. it wild.. it's wanting him in every way possible.

He smiles when he notices that green flannel tied around your waist. You grab his order not even having to ask him and take it over to him.. " Mr miller.. whiskey neat and a beer." You always give me what I want huh darlin. "Is there anything thing else you want Mr miller.." you lean across getting close to him faces inches apart. Actually there is.. but I'm not sure it's appropriate to bend you over in a full bar.. don't want them to hear those sweet little moans..your mouth drops. "

"Is that something you've thought about before..??" If we are being honest here, I've been enchanted by you since you started working here. Your tan skin, your green eyes.. those lips. Your face is now a million shades of red. " I need to work I'll be back..." you take off the flannel revealing the cheeky little skirt you have on that hugs all your curves.. you glance back and Joel looks like he just had to adjust himself.

•

Finally 2 am rolls around.. the bar clears out and it's time to get ready to head home... well Joel's home. Kitchen lady left so now it's just Joel and you left in this bar..

" so Mr miller.. bar is empty.." he cocks his head looking at you.. he sweeps you off your feel planting you on the bar.. mhmm I've thought about you All day he whispers in your ear as he kisses across your jaw working his way down to your neck right to that spot. "Hmmmm yeah what about..." you guide his hands between your thighs to you lacy panties you have on. He doesn't even bother teasing he just reaches right in making your body arch. " daddy please" you smirk because you knew that would unlock something. Circling your bud with the right amount of pressure to get you right where he wants you.. Slid a finger in just because.. and what do you want from daddy.. still sliding that one finger in and out just to keep you on edge..

"I want... ahhh mhmm fuck.. " focus look at me, he cups your face eyes locked in. What do you want.. tell me.. " as much as I want to ride you.. I want you to fuck me.. " how he ask.. still teasing toying with you. " on this bar Joel.. fuck me on this bar.. so when you come in here the only thing you think of is me screaming your name as I cum all over your big cock." He's taken back a but he just looks at you and smiles.

He slides your panties off and pushes your skirt up.. you undo his belt unzipping his tight jeans where you can fully see how hard you have him. You reach in and pull it out, and god is he big, long and girthy you just knew he was going to fill you up. He takes his cock and rubs it against your entrance pre cum on the tip mixing with your wetness. Look at me.. you look up and he pushes his cock into you.. " fuckin Christ.. you fill me up so good.." Joel's thrust starts easy and gentle just getting used to each other building it up. And after each thrust it intensifies as he puts your legs on his shoulders thrusting Even deeper into you.. you gonna cum for daddy he says thurts getting harder and faster like he just can't get enough of you he just needs more and more and more. " yes" you whimper "but only if you cum in me.. I wanna feel you explode inside of me.." that's all it took to send Joel over the limit. Hard thrusts as he reaches up to rub your clit.. "my god- I - I " yes darlin come on I'm right with you.. "ahhh fuckkkkk" you feel it come over you as he fills you up. And you cum together. Joel lays there for a second trying to comprehend that just really happened.. "did we just fucking cum at the same time..?" He chuckles yes we did. He's still inside you. AS he pulls out you feel the hot seed drip out of you. Hell of a day to wear a skirt-

Crash

Window bust.

Grab the gun.

•

You fucking whore.!!! You hear your ex scream. He's standing outside the big window looking in. Joel zips his pants as he plops you off the bar. Gun.. you have the gun..? He looks over to see it already pointed in your exs direction. "Go home.! I told you I'm done leave me alone.!"

No bitch.. come outside and I'll finish what i started yesterday.. you and your geezer, cant believe you'd fuck someone old enough to be your father.. but that makes sense right.. because you never had a daddy.. so you have to fuck the first one who even gives you the closure you need huh.. can he even fuck you.? Actually I just did Joel replied smugly.

"Joel call the cops" you hand him your phone.. not taking your eyes off your ex gun still pointed at him.. oh so you couldn't finish it with your knife.. so sugar daddy gave you a gun..?? your ex chuckles all cocky. He's the one that gives you money.? Huh.? The one that brings you food.? You remain silent ready to pull the trigger.. darlin we have to go outside.. the alarms are going off and the police are here.. "we can go outside through the back.. he will probably meet us there but maybe by then the cops will be here.." Joel leads the way holding your hand that doesn't have the gun in.. if I open this door and he's here I'm beating the hell out of him you hear me.. I don't want that to scare you.. or make you look at me differently.. because once I start I don't think I can stop. he stares at you worried. "Do what you have too." He opens the door and you ex lunges at you. Knocking you to the ground.. gun flying.. he punches you blood everywhere.. But Joel towers over him and pulls him off of you .. Joel lands a few good punches and he doesn't stop.. he keeps hitting him over and over and over.. a truck pulls up.. followed by cop cars.. lady who lives next door comes running over. Oh honey.!!! She says.. pulling you away as Joel is still punching your ex.. Tommy comes running pulling Joel off.. cops swarm around us.. pulling you and Joel separate ways.. "JOEL" you scream. "JOEL." "I need Joel don't fucking touch me.. "

you hyperventilate and pass out.

Part 2 coming soon.

Music gives me most of my ideas or I listen to something and it amplifies it

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING FULFILLED !!! MARK W. X FEM!READER X FERNANDO A. (18+)

summary: after struggling to figure out what to get, mark and fernando decided that they should just simply fulfill their daughter's wish with the help of their wife, y/n.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), holiday special, dilf!fernando and dilf!mark (and milf!reader), threesome (mfm), unprotected sex, fingering, breeding/impregnation kink, mentions of pregnancy, double penetration (i'll let you use ur imaginations), established poly relationship, i did not edit this.

note: what if i fell into a writer's block but god said "you've written a jenson and seb threeway smut but not webbonso smut yet?" (on my grid sluts shit) enjoy and happy holidays xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

mark and fernando would go through the lengths of fulfilling their kid’s christmas wishes. they would always do anything for their little girl.

it was cute, really but oftentimes, even y/n found that they had spoiled her a little too much. 

the parents had been wondering what to get their little daughter, ava alonso-webber, as she continued to grow as her independent self. her mother had decided that she was big enough to decide what she would like for holidays.

meanwhile, the fathers had decided that ava was not old enough to not be spoiled. after all, mark and fernando only had one child with their wife and little ava was only six. 

y/n merely hissed at them when they gave ava a go ahead on her request and said, “don’t go overboard with her gift this year. no puppies anymore.” 

both mark and fernando shrugged before ava exclaimed, “i want a baby sibling, papì and daddy!” 

now, their wife wasn’t a miracle worker— but to try and change ava’s mind about her gift for christmas was something she shouldn’t have done. 

mark and fernando were quick to frown at this before their wife continued to avoid that conversation for the next month all while attempting to convince ava into getting something more… manageable. 

ava had eventually decided that dolls and more karting time with her dads were enough. ava’s mother was more than relieved that the little girl had relented and moved on.

the dads, the brooding fathers, were a different story. in fact, when y/n arrived from work a week before christmas, she was surprised to find the house quiet. the only thing she could hear was soft music playing in the background. she was really worried she had to sneak the toys into the bedroom without ava noticing.

but the little girl wasn’t there. instead, both mark and fernando were sitting in the living room with the recorded premier league game on.

y/n’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her husbands and asked, “uh, did we just magically lose a child before we’ve spent hours and money on her gifts or…?”

mark and fernando looked at her. then the australian spoke, “oh, hey babe. ava’s staying overnight with her cousins.” 

“and we agreed on this when…?” she raised a brow in return, walking over the two nonetheless to press kisses on their lips. fernando pulled her into his lap as mark moved closer. 

“now,” fernando murmured, his lips opting to attack her neck as she let out a soft sigh. 

mark tipped her head towards his direction before kissing her, his tongue allowing itself to tangle with hers as he hummed in satisfaction. he nearly smirked at the feeling of her breath running out as she moaned.

“we’ve been trying to get you to talk to us about something,” fernando started, his breath fanning her ear as goosebumps broke out her skin in both nervousness and excitement. 

“about…” she murmured, eventually pouting when mark tugged her hair back as she got eager to make out with him. mark gave her a stern look. 

fernando then nipped at her ear as she let out a gasp before he answered with, “what our little princess wanted.” 

it was as if the floodgates were opened, her arousal making her squirm in their hold as mark crooned, “you were so adamant about not giving her what she really wanted, baby. why’s that?” 

“i- i,” she gulped. she really wasn’t able to answer especially now that she was being tossed back and forth between the two.

she could feel their hands roaming and touching her, gasping at the feeling of fernando’s fingers as they slowly snaked their way down into her lace panties. fernando then cooed mockingly, “you’re so fucking wet, cariño. you know what we think?” 

“h- ngh,” she whimpered, unable to utter any more words as her husbands chuckled darkly. 

“we think,” fernando’s tongue glided down her throat and sucked her skin, leaving a mark on her neck as he continued, “that you want to give us a baby too. a baby sibling for our little girl.” 

“and you don’t want to tell us,” mark added, smirking at the sight of their wife writhing. y/n was already long gone, feeling extremely aroused just by having her husbands work her up like this.

y/n gasped aloud, hearing her cunt making squelching noises as fernando slid his fingers in and curled up against her sensitive spot. 

“how about we give you more babies to grow, hm?” mark murmured, kissing her hard as he slid her shirt off and tossed it someplace else. “we’re gonna fuck more babies into you until you’re full of them.” 

she nodded eagerly, writhing against the two of them as she begged wordlessly.

fernando and mark smirked and looked at each other, as if they had every intention to fulfill their goal with the help of their perfect pretty wife. 

their cocks had been doing their back and forths in her cunt, her walls stretched out due to its familiarity with their lengths as she whined loudly, sinking repeatedly as she kept her hands resting on fernando’s chest. 

the two men groaned aloud, mark grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging it lightly as his hips snapped behind her. “oh fuck,” he uttered, fucking his cock into her as she babbled incoherently.

“te ves tan bonita como siempre, cariño,” you look so pretty as always, darling. fernando cursed out as he thrusted his hips up. he muttered, “tan guapa, tan jodida así.” so pretty looking so fucked out like this. 

“mm— fuck, please,” y/n flinched at the feeling of mark’s fingers pinching on her nipple and fernando’s thumb rubbing her clit simultaneously. she yelped in pleasure, her eyes tearing up as she wailed, “want you two to cum in me— fuck, nando- mark!” 

“want us to cum inside you, yeah?” mark spoke breathlessly, the two men increasing their pace and intensity as she nodded against his chest. “can’t wait to see you full of me and fernando again, sweetheart.” 

“and these tits, fuck, hermosa,” fernando groaned, “can’t wait to see it full of milk again. you’re gonna look so fucking hot when you’re pregnant.” 

“like she did before when she had our little girl,” mark added with a chuckle, eventually groaning as he said, “you’re gonna make us so happy- you’re gonna make our little girl happy, baby.” 

“m- i want your cum, please,” she pleaded, her walls clenching as the men both groaned in pleasure. “fuck me harder! shit~ fill me up-“

“you want us to fuck you full, hm?” fernando moaned, now fucking her harder from the bottom as he continued, “fuck- i’m cumming, hermosa. hah~ fuck!” 

“oh~ hah,” mark groaned in her ear as he shot his load inside her. fernando did too, slowly thrusting and coating her cunt white like mark did. 

y/n whimpered, her body limping against fernando as the three of them eased off their orgasms. her body shook violently between the two of them before she took a deep breath and wiped her sweat off her forehead. 

she then looked at fernando and chuckled, pressing a kiss on his lips once more before moving to his side. mark had returned from the bathroom to clean her off.

she pursed her lips as she said, “would it be too late if i say that we didn’t need fuck like rabbits to get pregnant?” 

mark nearly dropped the damp towel and looked at fernando with widened eyes. fernando returned the surprised look as y/n laughed quietly.

“oh you are horny, baby,” mark laughed with her, pressing a kiss on her lips, his hands hovering on her stomach before he pressed a kiss on it.

fernando shared a kiss with her too before asking, “are you really?” 

“i am,” she grinned. “i was going to show you two when i got home but you got excited. i couldn’t tell you two i was pregnant because you two were all over me.” 

“oh fuck! finally,” mark exclaimed, grinning at fernando and their wife.

“that’s one christmas gift ticked off the list for ava,” fernando laughed. “someone’s gonna be happy that her christmas is fulfilled.”

oh, the lengths that they’d go through just to spoil their kid. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[mylittlesecrethaven]

Twst Kinks And Shit They Like To Do During Sex: Heartslabyul

Let's fucking go I've been wanting to do this for a while now. (Tws ahead of time in case I get some crazy kink going on one of the characters because.... yeah.... there might be some strange kinks in here that aren't common.... so.... idk) (I was gonna do sex positions, but then I realized I don't know any.....)

Riddle:

*sigh* As much as I hate to say it, he'd definitely have a mommy kink. Even if you're a dude or gn, he'd want to call you mommy so fucking bad.

He absolutely has to be on top during sex. He doesn't have to be dom, but he just has to be able to look down on you. He hates being on the bottom.

Trey:

Because I can't get it out of my head, but Trey has an oral kink. Like, anything oral, he's into. And after sex, he loves to help you brush your teeth. (Cause I can't get the stupid yandere thought out of my head of him brushing your teeth for you.)

Also, probably likes to keep snacks by the bed for after sex so that y'all have something nummie to munch on afterwards. He'd make them himself, and you'd always know which days he's gonna ask for sex based on what he bakes.

Cater:

I feel like he'd have a praise kink. Giving and receiving. I've just got this vibe I get from Cater that he's depressed and needs love, so I feel like he'd need praise during sex. (Not that he wouldn't be into degradation, just he'd only like giving for that)

Sex videos sex videos sex videos. All on his phone. He'll show them off to you when y'all are alone. You never even notice when he's recording, yet he gets the cleanest videos you've ever seen.

Ace:

Bro def has a degradation kink. Receiving or giving. He loves teasing and being teased, and I feel like he'd get such a hard on from being insulted by his lover. (idk if teasing falls into degredation, but imma say it does)

Also, I feel like he'd love hair pulling. If you pull his hair during sex, he will probably cum in the next few minutes, even if you don't even touch him. He just loves it when you pull his hair.

Deuce:

Hmmm.... He probably wouldn't admit it, but I feel like he's got a pet play kink. I know that seems far-fetched, but it's just a feeling. And I feel like he'd like to be the one being the pet. He'd get all the dog outfit shit he needed and sit like a good little boy for you.

Pfft- sorry. I just thought of something for this. Since Deuce is an athlete, I feel like he'd have a semi-size kink, but for muscles, y'know? But not really a kink, he just likes to show off his muscles during sex cause he thinks it's cool. I don't know if that makes sense, but I think it's a funny thought.

So yeah. I'll get the others out eventually. This one's really fun for me. No fucked up kinks yet. (though I really hate mommy and daddy kinks so.... Riddle's makes me uncomfy....)

[finniestoncrane]

Howdy Sheriff Finnie! 🤠

First off, CONGRATULATIONS ON 3K🎉🥳 very much deserved!

Secondly, rumor has it ‘round these parts Captain Boomerang(ssktjl🙏🏻) has been know for bribery and back alley dealings. His wanted status? Dead or alive.

Here’s to hopin’ we catch this sonnuvabitch!

(Seriously hoping this hasn’t been claimed yet🤭😖😩)

Captain Boomerang x GN!Reader, ficlet a/n: thank you friend!! i'm so excited to indulge in our shared insanity over george lmao and to be honest, what would an interaction with him be without some praise?? main event post • event masterlist • tag: finnie3k • main masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: praise kink, lil bit of body worshipping, mutual praise this is a love fest all around, and of course his cock is inside you the whole time so... nsfw

"Wait... Wait... wait wait wait wait wait... Say that again."

George's fingers were buried deep in the flesh of your thighs as he tried to get you to stop moving. Your body was slow to respond at first, still wrapped up in the fog of fucked him, of riding his cock, straddling his waist with your palms against his chest for support. But eventually you came to a stop when you noticed his counter-movements of frantic pumping interspersed with groping your body, had come to a halt of their own.

"What? Say what again?"

"The- The thing! What you just said! I moved my hips a little like you asked so you could feel me a bit deeper, and then you said..."

You racked your brain, playing over the past few moments, although everything admittedly was a bit of a blur since George had pushed himself up to the hilt inside of you, long and thick enough that you imagined he do some serious damage with just a little bit of effort on his part. Your vision had blackened around the edges, muscles tightening and stretching, blood rushing loudly in your ears as he filled you.

"Oh! Ooooh."

With a soft smile, you leaned over him, placing your hands on either side of his face, feeling his facial hair against your palms as you held him tight.

"Good boy?"

His eyes closed and he leaned his head back slightly, exposing his neck, slender and tattooed, tendons tensing as he strained in pleasure.

"You are a good boy, Digs. You're my good boy."

"F-fuck."

Still completely still, not wanting to disturb this moment he seemed to need so badly, you continued.

"You're amazing, George. Hot, strong, funny, and super smart."

His cock twitched against your walls with each word, a surge of pleasure coursing through you each time it moved.

"I'm so lucky that I get to have your attention, and so lucky to have your big, thick, impressive cock buried all the way-"

"Oh-oh shit!"

No friction needed, it seemed, your words had been enough to send him ove the edge, the warmth of his seed spilling into you and trickling out as he shifted slightly in response to his surprise orgasm.

"Sorry, love, I just-"

With a smile, you eased towards him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, clammy from the exertion and the reddening blush that covered most of his freckled face.

"Don't be. I think you needed that. I'll keep it in mind. You deserve all the praise I can give you."

With no regard for the mess you both had made, you slid off of him with a soft moan, laying down beside him with your arms around his torso. His own arms were wrapping around you too, pulling you into a tight side hug as he sighed contentedly.

"Well, aren't you just the best fucking thing since fairy bread, eh?"

In response to your laughter, he pinched your side playfully, smiling at the giggle you let out.

"I'm serious. I'm good, we've established that. But you? You're perfect."

[buuberry00]

HOLY SHIT PART 2 TO THE BUNNY HEAT ONE

(also can I say I admire how hardworking you are to give all these fics 😭 Istg you and *that* one user are making sure the Luka nation is all fed. Thank you so much for working this hard to give us all of these delicious writing, you are so kind!!)

thank you !!! im SO sorry for the late reply !!! c.w: submissive/switch-luka, grinding/humping, begging, belly bulge, luka in heat, breeding kink, sweet aftercare !! freaky freakiness (full on sexy sex)😶

-

** note!! reader will be female or addressed with she/her pronouns + fem! anatomy ^^

minors DO NOT INTERACTTTTTTT

-

As Luka's tip meets the warmth of your cunt, a weak whine leaves him. His purple-fingers eagerly roll and pinch along your clit, drinking in all of your expressions and every sound you make. "So pretty," Luka coos, his ears flat against his head. "Look at your cunt, y/n. Your clit's throbbing. You're close already?" Every sensation - his cock, his fingers, his words - overwhelms you and disables your ability to speak. You try, but all that leaves your lips is a weak, breathy moan. Luka eagerly drinks you in.

He lifts his fingers and - with his gaze locked on yours - sucks his fingers clean. "So yummy," he coos. "Can I fuck you now?" Luka positions your legs - one draped over his shoulder and your other around his waist, carefully shuffling closer and pushes his cock deeper in, inch by delicious inch. You groan, eyes closed and head down as you take deep breaths to soothe the ache; you and him have fucked thousands of times before, and yet, the pain of him sliding in is still present.

Luka rubs your back and helps you get comfy beneath him, dipping his head to kiss your forehead twice. "I'm here, baby," he whispers. "I know I'm.." he giggles, "Eager to cum 'n all, but.. I still care about you and your safety. If it hurts and you need me t' stop, lemme know." You nod, arms hooking around his torso and holding on. Luka pushes in until you meet - pelvis to pelvis - then shudders. "Already gonna cum," he whispers into your ear, kissing your shoulder before hiding his face in your shoulder. He exhales shakily.

"your pussy is so tight, love," he whispers. "Squeezes me so good."

He wriggles closer, bucking his hips to hump into you. He whines and grunts, babbling incoherently.

"Feels good?" He pants into your ear, to which you wordlessly nod in reply. "Good. Gonna cum soon. Put my kids in your womb and keep you safe forever." The wet slapping of skin against skin, moans and pleading for release (mostly Luka) fill the room. Luka looks like he's over the moon; face flushed and eyes half lidded with need, his lower lip quivering with need. Drool rolls down his lower lip, dribbling down his chin.

Luka shudders, hips stuttering occasionally as he chases his release and your own.

"Luka," you gasp for air, "I'm gonna cum." "Cum," he encourages, thumb rolling firm circles onto your clit. His other hand pushes down onto your lower belly, feeling his own cock bulge through your tummy. "it's okay, love. I've got you." As soon as you both cum, he scoops you close and kisses your shoulders. His chest is snug against your back, cock warmly snug in your cunt, still.

He pulls a spare blanket over you both, kissing your nape.

"did so well 'f me." "so warm.. smell so nice.."

"my pretty baby.. my sweet girl."

-

-venus

(I'll complete the rest tmrw !!! I've been really busy, waking up at 5am and going to bed at midnight, hauling heavy ass boxes back and forth. tmrw I'll keep posting!!) (side note: my posting schedule will go back to posting daily eventually!!!! love u guys <3)

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Tolerate It, So Don't Blame Me

Loki Laufeyson x Fem Ex!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Hickeys, Marking Kink (R Receiving), Oral Sex (R Receiving), P in V Sex, Exhibitionism, Rough Sex, Body Worship (R Receiving), No Protection (This is fictional, you are not, WRAP IT UP) Mentions of Break Ups, Turbulent Relationship, Confrontations, Insecurities

PREFACE: You were not only the God of Mischief's ex and the mother of his child, you were also the love of his life. So, it should've come as no surprise to you when his new girlfriend showed up to your apartment building, angry after finding out he was still in love with you

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Loki was recruited into the Avengers and Sylvie is his new girlfriend in this A/U!

Sylvie deserves better :,(

And yes, this is combining 2 Taylor Swift songs cause it goes so well…all too well

I had just put my son to bed, when his tired little voice asks me something.

"Mama, is daddy coming this weekend?"

I look up from tucking him in with surprise.

"Um, I'm not sure"

I was...or I thought I was. Loki and I were together for over a decade and had our son four years ago.

Our relationship wasn't perfect, but we made it work. In spite of the long nights that consisted of screaming matches and the other going to bed angry, we would eventually talk it out and get right back to normal. Was it easy? No, but we knew that we made each other better people. Nothing in life that's worth keeping was gonna be easy.

Our main issue was him not making enough time for me and our child. I understood splitting his time between working with the Avengers and going back and forth from Asgard would take up a lot of his days, but we always got through the rough patches together.

You miss a couple dinners and forget some errands, sure, I could forgive that...but the final straw was when he'd forgotten our son's birthday.

Long after the party was over and everyone had gone home, I still sat in the living room in tears, after having had to put my own crying child to bed.

"He forgot. He really forgot", I thought to myself.

Just then, I hear the front door open and in walks Loki, making his way towards me on the couch.

"Hi, darling", he kisses my cheek.

That's when he noticed the popped balloons and confetti scattered all across the floor.

"What did I miss?"

"What did you miss?", I repeated,

Standing up.

"Loki, do you know what day it is today?"

"Friday"

I close my eyes, sighing before wiping my eyes.

"October twenty-third"

He takes a moment to think, when the realization hits him.

"Shit", he whispers to himself,

"Yeah...shit"

"(Y/N)-"

"He was so excited to blow out the candles with his dad", my voice shakes.

"I know-"

"Do you?"

Not having anything else to say for himself, he simply muttered.

"I'm sorry"

"It's not me you should be apologizing to", I say,

About to walk off, when he takes my arm.

"I'll make it up to him-"

"You always say that, but you never stick to your word. Look, I'm tired of being second place to your job, we both are. Do you even remember the last time we had dinner together? Or even tucking him in for bed?"

I could see the tears beginning to pool in his eyes. I shake my head, before pulling my arm away from him.

"Time got away from me, the team-"

"I don't care about the team! I care about us! Our family!", I yell,

Catching him off guard.

"I've stood behind you on everything and this was the one thing that I needed you to show up for. I've put up with your shit for too fucking long and I can't do it anymore. All we do nowadays is fight and I can't tolerate being taken for granted over and over again. I won't"

"What are you saying?", he whispered,

"I'm saying I'm done", I shrugged.

His gaze softened and his shoulders dropped.

"(Y/N)-"

"You need to go", I sob,

"Please, don't do this. We can talk about it, we can work things out, I promise, I will do better-", he tries pulling me into an embrace,

Only to be pushed away.

"We tried and nothing's worked, even if we go to bed now, I'll still feel the same way in the morning-"

"I don't want to leave-", he says,

Wrapping his arms around me, as I kept trying to push him off.

"Loki, go"

"I can't"

"Please, go, I can't do this again"

"I can't!", he cried,

"GO-"

"I CAN'T!", he shouts,

Slowly falling to his knees, as he held onto my legs and hid his face in my stomach.

"I can't", he wept.

My hand goes over my mouth to muffle the sounds of my sobs. I eventually pull away from him and walked back towards our once shared bedroom. It was the hardest walk of my life. Knowing I was walking away from him.

"When I wake up", I say over my shoulder,

"Don't be here"

It's been almost a year since then and it still hurts to think about. It didn't help that our anniversary was coming up either.

I often fall back into wondering if I'd done the right thing. Did I? Would I ever know?

"But, I promise I'll ask"

"Does daddy not love me anymore?"

It shattered my heart to hear him say that.

"No! Baby", I say,

Softly cupping his cheek.

"Your father loves you so so much. It's just his job that keeps him busy"

He sticks his pinky out, making me chuckle. I intertwine mine around his, after wiping away a stray tear.

"Never think for one second that we don't love you"

Just as I placed a kiss atop my son's head, I hear someone yelling outside my apartment building.

"(Y/N)!"

I recognized that voice. It was Sylvie. What was she doing here in the middle of the night?

"Mama?"

"Shhh, go to bed, baby, I'll be right back", I shushed,

Leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me. The elevator takes me all the way down to the lobby and I made my way outside.

"Sylvie-"

"What did you tell him?!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid with me, what did you tell Loki?"

"Nothing! I haven't spoken to him for weeks!"

"Horse shit"

"I haven't!"

She sighs, holding her forehead.

"Why? What happened?"

She sniffles and using her sleeve to wipe away her tears.

"Sylvie, I know we aren't friends, but you can tell me"

She scoffs, looking back at me.

"You can", I reassured.

She shakes her head, taking a seat on the curb. I let out a deep exhale, before joining her.

It was tense. I could tell she was holding something back and it only added to the anxiety that was making my stomach turn. After a few deep breaths, she finally breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"He said your name in his sleep"

I'd never felt my heart drop so fast. My eyes widen, as I turn back to her.

"What?"

"Last night. I heard him", she nodded,

"Sylvie", I exhaled,

Shutting my eyes, whilst shaking my head.

"So either that means he's been sneaking behind my back with you or-"

"He hasn't, I swear"

"...Then what I'd been suspecting is true", she muttered her breath.

My eyebrows meet in confusion, wondering what she meant by that. She finally turns to meet my gaze and in the street lamp's glow, I could make out her defeated tired eyes looking back at me.

I knew that look. I had that look not too long ago, which meant what she had to say was nothing short of painful.

"He still loves you", she wept,

Causing me to shake my head.

"No-"

"Then why?", she shrugs.

How was I possibly meant to respond to that?

"You know...whenever he tells me that he loves me, I would be so overjoyed...but for some reason, in the back of mind, I never truly believed him", she confessed,

"And then I thought to myself 'Well, why would I? She was his first love and the mother of his child. How could I ever compete with that? She's beautiful and smart and strong'. Deep down, I always knew that what we had wasn't real, as I am still fighting the ghost of you that will forever live in his memories"

I was speechless. To hear her say all of this was gut-wrenching. She didn't deserve this and I knew that.

"I am so sorry"

"You have nothing to apologize for", she says,

Getting back on her feet, as I did the same.

"Sylvie, I assure you that whatever we had was over the moment we broke up"

"Maybe...but not for him", she smiled sadly,

Giving me a tight embrace, before walking away.

I couldn't just go to bed after that. I had to talk to Loki myself. Whatever he did to us was one thing, but Sylvie didn't deserve this. I went back up stairs to get my son, not bothering to get dressed and dropped him off at my parent's house on the way to the Avengers Tower.

I submitted my personalized key pass, which allowed me inside and took the elevator all the way up to Loki's quarters. I pushed past the double doors and find him standing at the floor to ceiling windows.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?", I spit,

Walking up to him.

"I'm assuming you heard", he says,

Without looking away from the city.

"Sylvie didn't deserve that. She loved you!"

I was met with nothing but silence. All I could do was sigh in frustration.

"Why?! Why did you have to ruin another good thing for yourself?! She was perfect-"

"But she wasn't you!", he snapped,

Turning to face me.

"You of all people should know that no matter what happens, I would always choose you"

I could feel the tears gather in my eyes.

"I tried to let go, but I couldn't", his voice goes quiet,

"Despite my best efforts and even while being with someone else, all I found myself doing was wishing it was you"

I shake my head, as a lone tear made its why down my cheek.

"You should've thought about that before you took me for granted"

He cups my face, resting his forehead against mine.

"That was my greatest mistake...and I will never forgive myself for it"

"Loki-"

I couldn't stop myself from growing weak at his touch.

"I love you. This has always been true"

"I never knew what I had until I'd lost it", he added,

"You hurt me...and you hurt our son", I wept,

"And for that, I am so sorry. I will never stop regretting the things I'd done to you both and if given the chance, I'd change before it was too late, but I am begging you now. I will never forsake your hearts again, please", he pleaded.

There were so many emotions coming at me from all directions. Anger, sadness, confusion...but also a sense of solace. Solace in knowing that he had finally recognized his mistakes.

"If you'll have me...I will never hurt you or our son ever again"

"How can I be sure you mean it this time?", I questioned.

In that moment, the God of Mischief pulled away and kneeled before me, placing a hand on his heart. I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of Deja Vu.

"I meant every word", he reassured,

Taking my hand into his.

"I've lost you once. I will not make that same mistake again"

I searched deeply into his eyes and all I could find was sincerity. For the first time in a long time, I was finally sure.

"Loki"

I pulled him back onto his feet and cupped his cold face.

"I love you too...I don't think I ever stopped"

He chuckles slightly in relief.

"That's all I've ever wanted to hear", he says,

Before pulling me in by the waist and pressing his lips against mine. The kiss started off mellow and soft, but it quickly grew heated. He picks me up by my thighs and effortlessly wrapped them around his waist. He ended up

My fingers sneak into his black locks, grasping at the roots and causing a delicious groan to escape him.

Using his godly strength, he lifts me up higher into the air, now throwing my legs over his shoulders. With a flash of his magic, I was now completely naked up against the glass.

"People will see", I say out breath,

"Let them", he grinned,

"Let them envy the way I ravish your beautiful body, knowing they will never get the chance"

I could feel myself grow wetter at his comment.

"By the looks of it, you don't seem to mind either", he teases,

Before kissing the inside of my thighs, slowly making his way towards where I needed him most. He wrapped his soft lips around my bundle of nerves, making me gasp at the sensation. I was being tasted like I'd be the last thing he'd ever have. A man on death row, savoring his final meal.

"It has been to long", he mumbled against me.

"It has", I whined,

As his skilled tongue drew circles over my clit again and again, till the knot in my stomach began to tense. I missed how easily he made me melt.

My fingers snuck into his hair once more, holding on for dear life. His own rubbing up and down my slit, before slipping themselves inside and pressing against my sweet spot. I could feel him grin at the wanton cries and moans that spilled out of me.

It was more the obvious that I was already about hit my peak.

"Close already?", he teased,

Continuing his ministrations.

"I must taste your release at once. Come for me, sweet girl", he demanded.

That was all I needed to hear.

I came with a moan so loud, I was thanking my lucky stars the walls were sound-proof.

Still, coming down from the euphoric high, he lets me down gently. Firmly holding my weak frame to steady me. Once he realized it was going to take a while for my legs to calm from there incessant shaking, he picked me up and laid me down on the sofa.

"Tonight, I will make up for lost time", he mumbled against my lips.

"I will show you just how deep my everlasting devotion for you lies"

With the help of his magic once again, he causes his trousers to disappear, along with his boxers.

His hard cock aching for attention.

"Do you see what you do to me? How desperate and needy I am for you?", he growls in my ear,

Causing my skin to raise in goosebumps. He takes the tip and rubs it up my already throbbing entrance.

"I've missed this so much", he confesses,

Before thrusting into me and ripping a cry from the depth of my chest. Without giving a moment to adjust, he began pounding into me at a merciless pace.

By this time, the sun had already began to peak from the horizon and the room smelt of sex and sweat. It was now his turn to yank at the roots of my hair, exposing my bare neck for his hungry teeth.

"I will mark you and claim you as mine once more", he mumbled against my warm skin,

As he repeatedly slammed into my g-spot. It didn't take long for my next orgasm to build, as my legs were already threatening to snap close and all I could do was scream out his name again and again like a fallen prayer.

I could tell by the rhythm of his hips faltering that he wasn't far behind either.

"Meet me there, darling. Come for me", he groaned,

As we both were thrusted over the edge. He spills himself inside my clenching walls, letting his head fall back at the overwhelming pleasure. Out of breath and well-spent, he collapses on top of me and wraps his arms around my waist.

We lay in the comforting silence for a moment, till he found the strength to pull out of me and lay me atop his chest.

"Yours"

I look up at him, as he brushed away a hair stuck to my forehead.

"Always"

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

Next Chapter

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[wulvercazz]

How do you think Grimmjow acts when he's pregnant, in whatever of the AUs he could, like ABO or others? Is Ichigo an overprotective partner when Grimmjow is round?

Generally, yes, I think Ichigo would definitely be a bit overprotective :>ccc tbh I think he'd be a bit of a helicopter in a way his father never was bc of how much trouble he got into as a kid. He has experience taking care of his sisters, so his oWN kid?? yeah,, he's doing everything he can to make sure they're ok-

Which brings me to your first, and main question, Grimmjow- is more instinct driven, and a lot less worried during his pregnancy. He definitely acts like nothing is going on, specially in the earlier months. He goes about his business like usual, fighting and getting into trouble- which definitely freaks Ichigo out a LOT.

I can see him going back to hunting hollows much more, like he used to before the hogyoku. He is `eating for two´, in the end, and it only adds to Ichigo's anxiety... and I can see that bothering Grimmjow a lot. He hates to be coddled, as much as Ichigo would love to 'make his life easier', Grimmjow just won't take it. If he's eating he's killing his own meal himself. Ichigo can sometimes coax him into relaxing a bit, like he did when he wanted to share human fun with him when they started dating, but if he starts fussing too much Grimm gets a little pissy.

In later months though, when he's much bigger and less agile I can see it taking a 180 degree turn. He slows down a lot, stays put (mostly) and sleeps a lot. It's Ichigo's dream come true tbh (after being reassured like a 100x over that it is normal and Grimm's ok), he can finally care more actively for Grimmjow in ways he wouldn't allow otherwise. One of which being, Grimm starts feeding off him now that he can't hunt, and (biting kink aside) Ichigo is more than willing to have Grimm take in some of his excessive reiatsu so he can be comfortable. But also it has Grimmjow craving touch just a bit more. Maybe it's the excess energy of not being able to more around as much, or the hormones, or simply the need to feel as though his mate is there and ready for when he pops... but Ichigo doesn't question it a lot and just gives as much as Grimm will allow him to give.

And it's really nice to feel needed, Ichigo can often feel like Grimmjow might just flee at any moment, with their child, because of how independent and self reliable he is; I can def see that being a huge insecurity and maybe even a problem in their relationship at some point, because he's so used to being needed (to extreme extents too).

But they do balance out eventually<3

I'll use some specifics of my Family AU for this but; I think their first is def their hardest pregnancy because of all I mentioned above. They're a new couple and still not quite settled on what their life will be as a joint pair, so there's differences to resolve. Life plan stuff.

And it follows into raising their first too... But after both finally get their heads out their asses and talk openly, for once, they are able to meet in the middle and their next few go by much much easier; and thus enjoy the pregnancies a lot more<3 Ichigo relaxes a lot more, learns to really trust Grimmjow to look out for their kids in his own way, and Grimm learns to rely on Ichigo more, despite what he can do himself.

Parenting wise... Grimm's all about being a teacher and a protector,, while Ichigo obviously has a more human approach to what it's like to be a Dad. While Ichigo just wants his kids to be safe and have human experiences,,, Grimmjow mistrusts everything human, he wants their kids to know how to defend themselves and hunt and be strong.

They clash a loT at first,, until they get to that happy middle :>c In the end they're both very protective but with very different approaches to parenthood<33 While pregnant, tho? Grimm doesn't give two shits 😂 He knows his body is strong, he's saving all that energy to worry about his kids once they're actually out of him.

sighhh.. I could go on forever on little things that happen to them tbh I loveee this AU<333 but it'd be a verY long post agsgdgfg ((so feel free to ask more about it uwu))