#if you’re alive I can wait

[dandyleyen]

ZELINK NATION WAKE UP

We are BACK with another song from my zelink playlist. This one is:

“The Ruse & The Caper” by Coyote Theory

—

—

“If you’re a soul I’m your mate

If you’re the past I am fate

If you’ve got time I could stay

If you’re alive I can wait”

[stunie]

EHHHH ???? WAIT WHAT IS THIS ?

GIFT??? I HAVE ANOTHER LIL MOON!! it’s so cute!!!? jackie omg wait did you get this?? for me ??? i’m so ????

[keitaiirenwa]

YOURE ALIVE?

YEAH i just had boards. stressful time. tomorrow’s my last one after that i’m free so i’ll be active here..

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ ────────

you’re 5 minutes into your first round and to be quite honest, you’ve never been more sure that fushiguro toji and his god given ability to dirty talk is something you’ll take to your grave.

you’d been with other guys before, ones with a nasty habit of running their mouths during sex. ones that’d grab you by the neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how good you felt, how tight you were, how they couldn’t wait to fuck you again.

toji is entirely different. nothing, and i truly mean nothing, compares to that old man when it comes to mouthing off in the bedroom. he’s formulating sentences you never thought possible, spewing stuff that would have you clutching your pearls and running for the hills any other given day.

you’re holding onto your composure by your teeth hearing him say the things he does, thighs and arms burning as you rock back and forth on his dick.

“take what you need pretty. uh huh, keep fucking me,” he chuckles, winding a fist into your hair to pull you back onto his cock when he notices you trying to crawl away.

you honestly don’t think you can take it anymore. if the way your guts were currently being pummeled into oblivion wasn’t enough, the way he’s talking to you right now has you in crisis.

it’s all too good, suspiciously good, and embarrassingly enough, you think you might be nearing your edge only 7 minutes after making it to his bed. your arms fail you as you try to crawl up the bed and away from the too-good feeling currently frying every wire in your brain.

“awww, you runnin’ from me?,” he laughs, letting your hair go to cage you in from behind, two solid arms settling on either side of your head.

your words escape you each time you muster up a response, eyes rolling back and he takes over again, shoving you face down and absolutely destroying that special spot tucked away inside of you. toji’s like a furnace, cooking you alive with the heat the radiates add his abs and chest.

“told ya you couldn’t handle it,” he teases, watching you writhe under him. “not with this dick.”

you feel something wet—a tongue you realize— traveling up the base of your spine and tapering off at your neck before solid teeth clamp down on the skin there.

okay, wow. fuck. you realize he’d lapped up the moisture settling in the dip of your back, licking the sweat from your skin like an animal.

“gonna let me taste every part of you? hmm?” he says in that too sweet voice you only hear when he’s teasing. he lets go of your neck with a pop to admire the bruise his bite leaves in its wake, sucking another one right under it for good measure.

you fall over the edge with no warning, so overwhelmed with pleasure that your mind and body continue to work separately.

the sound toji makes is beautiful. low, long, and guttural. radiating from the deepest part of his chest like a fan, and for a minute, you think he might be feeling the same overwhelming pleasure you are.

“ughh-hah don’t move, don’t move,” he whispers over and over, massaging the fat of your ass while your body flutters around him. you feel something viscous leak out of you, dripping down the seam of your heat and onto the sheets.

“when the fuck did you have time to cum?,” you finally muster. you don’t think you’d be able to move if your life depended on it, limbs sinking into the mattress like tubes of jelly. you really can’t move once you feel 200 pounds of laughing muscle settle on top of you, keeping you grounded like a paperweight on a measly little envelope.

“what, y’ quitting on all of this?” he laughs, gesturing up and down himself so you know just how irresistible he thinks he is. the worst part is that he’s right, just based off of how hard he’d rocked your world in the last 10 or so minutes.

you feel invigorated by some stroke of a miracle, pressing back on his still-leaking dick as a silent invitation.

“what, more? y’need more of me you little minx?” he laughs, grrriiiinding his tip right up against that fleeting spot you would have never been able to get to on your own.

and just like that he’s back to fucking you, pulling you into him like a toy at that same perfect pace.

“bite me hard if y’ want me to stop, you hear me?” he commands, shoving your face back into the pillows once he sees you nod.

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing���you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

[fluoneia]

sypnosis. continuation of pitfighter!vi. vi’s drink at the rink is spiked with something she’d never experienced before. she goes back to the brothel in the hopes of finding you. part 3

warnings. smut (17+), aphrodisiacs, switch (mostly sub)!vi, kind of period sex? idk. no major part of it, lowkey angsty at the end

a/n. oh my gahhh guys u don’t understand how happy i am to get requests you guys r so sweet please leave more !! and GUYSSS i LIVE for sub!vi i’m so happy for this request

arcane masterlist ✯

vi never thought she’d get herself so deep into this. into you. she went to babette’s in the first place for a quick release, yet, she found herself enveloped in you. obsessed with you. every thought was about you, about how you made her feel.

but tonight, she had the overwhelming urge to see you. to devour you..

or maybe, for you to devour her?

vi didn’t care. so long as she could return to the feeling you gave her a week ago.

“babette.” vi would husk as she falls into the brothel, catching herself on the desk. “where is she?”

“who, darling?” babette’s eyebrows furrow.

“her. dammit.” vi pushed off the desk, stalking down the hallway. she ripped each and every curtain open, looking for your face, for you. she didn’t care seeing the other girls breasts, she didn’t care seeing the cocks and the horrified faces as she glanced in every room looking for you.

she didn’t understand why. she’d never felt this much desire for a person, but yet, here she was. she wanted you, wanted that feeling she had.

her mind fogs as it fills with images from the week before. she remembered your sweet whispers, the feeling of your hands on her body, violating her, pleasuring her in a way she had never been pleasured before.

vi would never consider herself a bottom. but right now, she didn’t care for titles. she just wanted you.

but, when she doesn’t find you in any of the rooms, her heart yearns. she storms back to the front-desk.

“where the fuck is she?!” vi nearly damn whines. she didn’t understand why she was so desperate.

“violet. who are you talking about?”

“the girl! last week, i was here, and there was a new girl here. where is she?”

“oh, you mean.. y/n?” babette chuckles. “oh, you’re not the first one back for seconds, honey. it seems she made an impression on you.”

vi feels a rush of anger. she knew this is what you did for work, yet, she couldn’t help the raw anger in her heart as she thought of someone else with you, taking those sweet gasps, your moans and words that haunted her thoughts.

vi wanted to be the only one doing that to you. making you writhe, cry. she wanted you to be the only one that did that to her.

“she went home. you can always come back next week.”

“next week?” vi’s breath hitches in her throat.

“she took the week off. you know how this job is, it can be draining.”

and it feels like vi’s breath can’t keep up with herself. she glanced back down the hallway, before snapping her head back to babette.

“where does she live?”

“i’m afraid i can’t give you that information.”

“dammit, babette!” vi slams her fist against the desk. why was she trying so hard? why was she so desperate?

she stills as she hears footsteps behind her. delicate, soft.

“it’s you.” you whisper behind her, and oh, your sweet, sweet voice nearly makes her legs give out.

it’s like everything clicks back together in her head. every nerve comes alive, sending cold shivers down her body, when she hears your voice.

“y/n, honey, what are you doing back?” babette asks you.

“oh, i just came to drop a few things off.” you shrug. your heart beats faster as you feel vi’s eyes on you. you were used to clients coming back, but she was different. she wasn’t like the other clients, vi was.. something else.

you spare a glance at her, and you gasp at her dishevelled state. vi suddenly remembered she never even asked for your name. now, she knew it.

“so, i’d.. id better get going.” you clear your throat, turning on your heel.

“wait—“ vi grabs your wrist, but you pull away. she walked behind you. “wait, wait, just—“

“i’m afraid i can’t be of service to you.” you shake your head, finally stopping. “one of the other girls can take you.”

“i don’t want the other girls.” vi exasperates, “shit— i want you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

truth is, you couldn’t be of service to her. you were on your period, which is why you were given the week off.

you turn to look at her. she’s heaving, moving closer to you. you see her lips are chapped from the air, and this time her face was clean from the face paint she had on last time.

“violet, i..”

as soon as you said her name, it’s like anything vi had left of any sort of will is gone. she grabs onto you, pressing you back, your back hitting the wall with a thud.

she’s panting. her hot breath hits your lips.

“you need to help me.” vi whispers as she cranes her neck, pressing her face against your neck, breathing in your scent like it was all the oxygen she needed.

“what’s up with you?” your brows furrowed, hands releasing to grab her face and pull her back. now closer, you can see her pupils are blown out.

and suddenly, you remembered rumours of a new drug going out, mostly for couples. because it was an aphrodisiac, and a strong one at that.

“you.. you take drugs?” you narrow your eyes, avoiding her gaze. you never pegged her as the type, but remembering she was a pitfighter, it wasn’t exactly frowned upon in that business.

“what?” vi’s eyes flicker. “no, fuck no, i don’t. i just drink.”

then, you think for a second. you gasp when you realize.

“you got laced.” you peer back up at her. “there’s a new drug— blossom. it’s an aphrodisiac, vi. but.. it’s not specific to make you want certain people, just.. sex. you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“i don’t care for other people.” she huffs. “fuck, i— i just want you.”

you frown. “that’s just the drugs talking.”

“it’s not the drug.” you feel her nose press again your neck, her breath, her scent. and your mind is brought back to one week ago, when you had the night of your fucking life. you’ve never had better sex.

you suddenly remember her pretty little moans, her body, rough and scarred, but still so beautiful. you never expected for her to be submissive, but that night proved everything you thought to be wrong.

and it turned you on even more that you could have the best of both worlds with vi.

you could have a dominant, rough, teasing girl to give you pleasure. but, she could also submit to you on the snap of your finger, especially now.

all your needs are met with vi. so, why do you want to push her away so badly? fear? fear that this could just as easily turn into something more, and jeopardize your job?

fuck it. what’s one night?

“wha— what is that?” vi says so sweetly, so innocently. you brought her back to your house, and now, she was under your will just as easily as you could get a glass of water.

you eyes scan over her body. bloody, bruised, scarred. her budding breasts, the trail of hair just above where you’ve been purposefully avoiding.

you hum as you run your fingers over the marks on her neck, her breasts. her hands have been glued to you all night, trying to pry every last bit of clothing on your body, to consume you whole, to have nothing but your skin against hers, like how it should be. how it should always be.

“what, you’ve never seen one before?” you glance toward her as you raise the silicone cock toward her.

“i— i’ve.. heard of them.” vi swallows as her eyes follow it.

“think you can handle it?” you jest, leaning back so you could loom over her. you hold the straps over you torso, tightening it around your hips.

her eyes are trained on the harness. it stirs a weird feeling inside of her— she’d never been attracted to men, nor wanted anything to do with their dumb cocks. yet, when she sees you, with that pink dildo that reminds her of her old hair, she wants nothing but for it to be inside of her, deflowering her, taking every last bit of dignity she thought she had.

with you, it all goes away. she didn’t care anymore. she just wanted you.

vi’s hands find your bare back, pulling you against her, lips only inches away from yours. her hands roam your soft skin, clutching onto your stomach, wanting to fuse her body with yours.

“i don’t care if i can handle it.” she muttered, pupils nearly taking over her whole eyes. “give it to me. give it all to me.”

you hum as you press your lips against the corner of her mouth. she gasps, before letting a loud whine from her throat.

“kiss me.” she grasps your face, “dammit, kiss me.”

“isn’t that too.. intimate?”

vi groans in annoyance as she tightens her grip on your face, lips crashing against yours in a fiery, passionate movement.

and you realize, vi didn’t want just regular old sex. she didn’t want to be treated like a whore, like a client. she wanted passion; she wanted you to make love to her.

and you shake the thoughts way with the thought— it’s just the aphrodisiac.

slowly, you let yourself melt against her, melt against her lips. her tongue grazes your lip, just barely, and you take that as permission to let your tongue slip against hers, dancing in a passionate movement for dominance. vi’s hands tighten on your body, grasp at the plush of your thighs, so soft, so delicate.

and she thinks, just maybe, she’s slowly starting to get a grasp on herself again. she remembered— she should be the one in control.

but, then.. the thoughts fade away as soon as they come.

she gasped as you take hold of the silicone dildo, moving to press it against her slick, coating the tip of it in the warmth.

you hum as her will instantly diminishes, vi’s chest heaving at the reminder that right now, she was under your will. under your control.

you pull away from her lips to mutter, “sure you can handle this?”

“i’m fucking sure.” vi grunts, hands gripping your cheeks harder, pulling your lips against hers again. and she thinks, your lips were so soft. scarily soft. dangerously soft in a way that she was scared she’d never be able to leave you— the feeling of your lips, your hands, ever again.

and when your hands press against her stomach, softly grazing against the bruise beneath her rib, she grimaces in pain. but.. she found it even more dangerous that she didn’t want to shy away from the pain, from your hands. instead, she relished in it, and it only aroused her more.

vi’s mind goes into an instant fog as you slowly press the silicone inside her, entering her with a soft pop!

and she cries out in both pain and immeasurable pleasure. her hands roam into your hair, tightening against it as she tries to alleviate the raw pain of the stretch.

you frown as you realize you probably should have chosen a smaller one, considering it was her first time.

but, you grin again as you see vi’s spine arching up, toward you, pushing the dildo in more.

and vi swore she saw white.

“shh, shh..” you whisper, breath trickling down her neck. “you can take it.”

“oh, fuck!” vi’s eyes close as her face tightens fully.

“relax.” you hum against the shell of her ear, hand grazing over her stomach, up, and up and up, rubbing against her breasts. “can’t do anything when you’re so damn tight, vi.” you giggle into her ear. “eyes on me. come on.”

you tap just underneath her eye, against the tattoo on her cheek you could now see without the face paint. it was of her name. a little egotistical, much?

she opens her eyes with a damn whimper, and you swore it was the most sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“that’s it.” you glance at her. the way you were looking at her, so primal, so full of lust, vi swore she could melt into a puddle in her spot. she was so far gone now, she knew that there was no going back.

her eyes train on you, not daring to look away. she finds herself lost in your eyes, and you in hers, so blue, so soft. she was submitting to you with her very own eyes, and you knew that, even without looking at her body yearning for you.

you take the chance at her body relaxing to push your hips forward, relaxing yourself into her until your hips touched hers, your bodies fusing together.

her mouth gapes, her eyes rolling back. oh, she was so far into this hole now.

your hands grab her calves, pressing her back, nearly pushing her down so far her knees could touch her ears with one movement.

and oh, the stretch, so painful, filling her, pressing so deep inside of her unlike anything she’s ever felt.

vi’s hands race to cover her face, a whine escaping her throat as she panted, feeling so, so full.

“what’s wrong, hm? feel too good?” you jest as you lean closer.

vi says nothing. you test the waters by using the new position to press deeper, angling your hips to hit the spot you knew always worked.

in both men and women, there’s always a soft spot that will make them bleed in submission, that will let you fully take control of their head. that’s what you did best.

vi cried out. she knew that damn spot, of course she did, but she never imagined it would be used against her, that someone would hit that spot, and hit it so fucking good.

“thi—! this position..” she mewled, “ts’ too embarrassing.”

and you fucking laugh. “you’ll learn soon that nothing is embarrassing when you’re with me.

“you’ll learn to forget yourself in these moments.” you tease your tongue against her jaw, hands moving to her thighs, pushing her down deeper. “embarrassment doesn’t exist with me. you’ll see.”

as if to solidify your words, you gently pull your hips back, till the dildo was about halfway out, then you slam your hips back against hers. vi cried out, voice cracking at the sudden movement.

“this okay?” you’d whisper against her skin.

vi’s heart nearly melts. even in this moment, so crude to put her in such a lude position, you’re still so damn sweet to her, just like last week.

but, vi can’t respond. she can’t form words. she didn’t remember how, or when she forgot how to speak until the words catch into her throat.

slowly, her eyes open and she nods her head. it was more then okay, it was the best damn thing she’d felt in her entire life.

“i need words, vi.”

“y.. ye—s! it’s okay.” vi sputters, face rushing full of blood, blushing so cutely. you chuckle.

“good.” you smile against her pulse, pressing a soft kiss there. then, you rock your hips back, just barely, before thrusting your hips back in.

you continue at the slow, teasing, torturing and mean pace. you feel vi’s legs shiver against you, her head pushing back into the pillow.

you feel a sound in her throat, against your lips, and she pushes her body closer to yours.

her entire body shakes with each thrust, each push back inside of her, so deep, pressing just barely over that spot each time.

and she realized, she wanted you to be rougher. she wanted you to act like how she treats other girls she sleeps with, how she treated you that one night. maybe that was all she wanted all along— projecting the way she treated the girls because she wanted someone to do that to her.

she didn’t know that until you, you, you, came into her life.

every thought was you. every, single, thought. mind a total haze, she forgets herself. she doesn’t care to be quiet anymore, she doesn’t care to try and stay reserved. she wanted you to do whatever you wanted to her.

and she’d probably let you.. if you weren’t treating her like a damned delicate doll.

“g..” she starts, a wonton moan escaping her lips. “faster.”

“oh?” you grin. “you ready now, huh? all stretched out?”

“ye— ugh! yes, i’m—‘i’m ready.” she grasps onto the sheet beneath her.

“hm, you sure?”

“yes, i’m fucking sure!”

“you’d better watch your mouth, vi. or this is just gonna go slower.” you move to meet her gaze, nose pressing against hers. “got that?”

vi looks like a puppy who’s being teased a treat, being made to do tricks. soft little gasps, soft sounds leave her as she clutched the sheet harder. she swallows, before slowly nodding.

“good.” you say as you nip at her nose, before adjusting your hold on her thighs, propping yourself up.

you tilt back to spit on her already sopping folds, and she bites her lip at the lude gesture.

you slowly, oh so slowly, pull your hips back till just the tip is left inside of her.

then, you ram your hips back against her, so roughly it makes the bed shake.

a loud noise leaves vi. she grips so hard on the sheets she pulled the fitted sheet off the bed, but not paying it no mind. all she cared about right now was getting more of this feeling, more of you.

“fuck!” vi cried out.

you chuckle. then, you begin at a steady, harder, faster pace. your hand lets go of her thigh, letting it drop down on the side of the bed, hand moving to graze over her face.

your hands push her hair back out of her face, clutching it so tightly. vi heaved at the feeling, mouth agape as you press your hips faster, harder, so harsh against that spot she felt like she was going insane.

then, you let go of her hair. and you brush your fingers over her lips, prying them open, pressing your fingers against her tongue.

“wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, would you?” you had no neighbours. but, vi didn’t know that. “wouldn’t want them to know i’m fucking you so good like this, hm?”

vi doesn’t respond. her eyes are fully gone, concentrated on you, and you feel a soft gag against your finger.

she doesn’t think as she lets her teeth clamp against your fingers, biting so hard because she can’t handle the pleasure, so hard it drew blood.

and the taste of your blood enough was to send her over the edge.

you feel the vibration of her voice against your fingers, her entire body erupting into a shaking mess.

“oh!” your eyes gleam as you glance down, slowing your thrusts, relishing in the glance of the pink dildo slowly staining white.

and your heart leaps as you see her hips pulling away. oh, how hilarious.

“you had me in the same position before.” you husk, “and you didn’t give me mercy. so greedy, aren’t you, vi?”

you let your fingers slip out of her mouth so she can speak.

“god, oh my god!” she gasped, entire body collapsing against your bed. “i-i fuck, god..” her hips drag away from you, stomach jolting from your touch against her stomach.

“so.. wouldn’t it only be fair to give you the same treatment? punish you?”

vi shakes her head violently.

“no, no!”

you still as you see the tear on her cheek.

“no more. no more.” she pants, eyes slowly opening to glance up to you.

you let your eyes close with a sigh.

“oh well. another night.” you snort as you slowly pull the dildo out of her, letting it hang, and resting it on her thigh. “let me clean you up. that sound good, hm?”

vi stares at the ceiling with no response. you snort, before pulling yourself away, hucking the strap off to some random place. vi suddenly looks to you, before roughly grabbing your wrist.

“don’t go. please.” she whispers.

you stiffen at her words. slowly, you relax. and you obey her wishes.

“alright. i won’t.”

vi’s hands travel down your body, hooking around your waist and pulling you against her chest.

even after what you thought was probably the orgasm of vi’s life, she was still a fighter after all, and she was strong.

you let yourself melt against her. her hands graze over your back, body still shaking as she reminisced in the feeling of her high.

“that.. that was a one time thing.” vi suddenly says. she swallowed. “it was just an aphrodisiac. i am not a bottom.”

you pick your head up off her chest, narrowing your eyes at her. she quickly adverts her gaze, biting her tongue, a harsh blushing finding her cheeks. you snort.

“keep telling yourself that, vi. that’s what every stubborn top says after they’ve seen me.”

she makes a tch sound. “whatever. bunch of wimps.”

you giggle.

it was probably around two hours later, and you hadn’t moved from where you two both were. your hands played with her hair.

and you realize, this was the first time you ever stayed with a client after their appointment. and it continued to dawn on you that this probably wasn’t what a client and a businesswoman’s relationship should be like.

“hey, y/n?” vi rasps, her voice laced with tiredness and sleep. “i.. i have to talk to you about something.”

you still. was she.. going to say something bad? good? proclaim love? you’d been in that rodeo before— let’s say, it was the main reason you had left your old brothel in piltover.

you glance toward her.

“yeah?”

“i won’t be coming back.” she stares at the wall as she says this.

you snort. “that’s what they all say—“

“no, i mean.. i mean, there’s someone.” she sighs. you still your hands.

she props herself up. you pull away from her chest to sit up straight.

“someone as in.. someone you love?”

vi glances toward you.

“no. i.. i don’t know.” she shakes her head, avoiding her gaze. “not exactly.”

you say nothing.

“do you want to know the reason i got into pit fighting?” vi stares down at her hands, “well.. a lot of shit has happened in my life. it feels like.. like i’ve never got a chance to take a breath of air before another thing was thrown at me.”

she inhaled. “i.. i was in stillwater prison for four years. got thrown in when i was probably.. sixteen?” she shakes her head.

“so.. you escaped? or something?”

“no. no, uh..” she grimaces, like it pains her to talk about it. “the girl. the.. someone, i guess. she got me released to help her with this stupid investigation. an enforcer.” she chuckled. “stupid girl.”

“we.. she was my first kiss. my first, i guess.. crush, if that isn’t too kiddish. i thought everything would go great after that. then.. shit happened. and, she left.”

your brows furrow. she left? just like that, and she deserves to hold vi’s heart?

“but.. i guess i came to the realization that i couldn’t stay away from her.”

vi’s face tightened as she thought. caitlyn should have been the one she was thinking of while under the effects of that blossom drug. but, she wasn’t. it was you. and that weirded her out. confused her.

“can’t just let all that go to waste, you know?” vi ignored her thoughts. “so, i’m gonna find her. even if.. even if she’s gotten over me. there’s always friends, right?”

you purse your lips. then, you stand. you grab a robe from a hanger and tie it around your body.

“you shouldn’t let your first love plague yourself forever, vi.” you say tightly. “you may never be able to let it go. trying to fix something that’s already broken won’t go as you expect.”

vi says nothing.

“take it from me. i thought i’d loved someone before. but.. it was bad for me. it tried to salvage any relationship i got into because i didn’t want to accept change, that people i thought i’d loved wouldn’t change, would remain in the same spot forever. but, that’s life. people change, for the worst, for the better.. it’s human nature.”

then, i chuckle. “i’m not about to give you a lecture. i’m not your mother. but, just.. think about that before you drop everything for a girl who may have already moved on from you.”

“don’t revolve your life depending on other people’s love. especially if they abandoned you after taking your first kiss.”

“no, caitlyn, she’s.. she’s different. she was grieving. it was my fault—“

“no need to start placing blame on yourself. you can’t control a feeling like love.”

you step toward her.

“cherish that. cherish the way you love. i may not know you, but.. i can tell you have a good heart. if this caitlyn girl is truly who you love, then let it happen.”

“your mind is still young. emotions is all you have.”

you tap her forehead.

“so go.”

vi’s forehead creases as she thinks.

“but.. vi?” you slant your head. you lean back toward her, pressing yourself closer so your noses touched. you brush a hand over her face.

“i know you won’t be able to resist me for long. you’ll be back.”

vi’s eyes are trained on you. her breath picks up, before she suddenly stands, scrambling away from you.

“uh! i, um, i have to go now.” vi swallows, rapidly picking up her clothes and putting them on.

you giggle as you let yourself fall into your pillows.

“see you, then, violet. i hope our time was good for you.”

she spares you one last look, and you swore you’d never forget the gleam in her eyes, the red on her neck and on her cheeks. so adorable.

she stalks toward the door, moving for the handle. then, she stills. she takes a deep breath.

“y/n?” she says softly. “if i.. if i ever do come back. just know, it’s my turn to use that thing on you.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat at that damn smirk.

without another word, she opens the door and slams it closed behind her.

you blink.

“damn, that girl gives me whiplash.”

a/n. said i wasn’t going to continue it, but here we are. um, expect a part three. probably. maybe. 🤗 idk still deciding

for @nobodyknowsimalesbian777 , hope my sub version of vi was to ur liking 😭 sorry it went a little off track of the request i got lost in it

find more about my taglist here.

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[tonycries]

Hot To Go!

Synopsis. Getting hit by a séx technique? No problem! Of course, you’re there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, séx cursed technique (he’s affected), mating press, they’re REALLY needy, fúck or díe, oraI (fem receiving), jealousy (Nanami’s), bréeding, marathon séx, teary Gojo, creampíe, spítting, cúmplay, thígh ríding, fíngering, VERY pússydrunk boys, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k (woah)

A/N. I needed this outta my mind so bad y’all omg. Have a lovely day babygirls <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Just sit on it, woman!

“Please…” Toji drawls, slow and syrupy around your puffy clit. “Who do you think you are, doll? Just sit.”

Now, the problem wasn’t that strange, low-level curse from Toji’s latest job. No, don’t make him laugh - he barely felt whatever that weak cursed technique was. The problem was the way he’d trudged back home, not even thinking of reaching for that door handle before it hits him. 

Suddenly too-sensitive nose getting a whiff of your shampoo - all the way from inside the bedroom. 

All the way to that dangerous, ugly little part of himself that says that if he doesn’t get a taste of you right now then neither of you are making out of this alive. 

And it’s all you can do to gasp, “T-Toji what happened?”

“You. You happened. N’ I don’t care if I hafta oh-” he cuts himself off, hot lips surging forwards - addicted - to place another slow, wet peck on the sweet sweet juices beading at your cunt. “-if I hafta fuckin’ suffocate, m’gonna die if you don’t just sit, goddammit.”

“Fuck!” you keen when two, calloused hands of Toji’s loop around your shaky thighs. Pulling, dragging you down to press your entire weight down onto his slutty mouth. “You’re being so…”

He barely even hears you - too caught up on the way your pretty cunt was drooling down his waiting tongue. 

Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his face up, up, up to let your heady juices slide down his throat. “What? Filthy? Needy? Like a bitch in heat?”

Each hissed out little word has you jolting on top of him - and Toji only tightening his bruising grip with a pained grunt to stop you from disconnecting with his ruthless lips.

“Ohhh fuck stay still, woman. S’the stuff of heaven. You’re so lucky you weren’t anywhere near me after that fight.” he spits at the feeling of you clenching around him, mouth moving a mile a minute even when he slips it past your swollen folds, dragging the muscles along all your hidden sweet spots. “So lucky. So sweet- so perfect thought I was gonna die without a lil’ taste-” 

A shiver runs down your spine - all the way down to where Toji was messily making out with your ravaged pussy. Stretching you out, milking himself on your sloppy entrance. Animalistically, even.

You squeal, “Think I’m gonna die.”

“Shit- and you think I care? Just want- ngh-” And that sinful little scar rubs up against your sensitive folds when Toji grins knowingly, so deep now that his nose was pressing against your pelvis, jaw grinding against you. Big arms orchestrating each mean, long drag of your sloppy pussy up and down his pretty face. Up and down up and down up and- “What did I say? This is all because of y-you, y’know?”

And Toji’s tone is so low, strangled - that the answer almost comes out as a whine. It makes you snap your glassy eyes down to look - to gape at how utterly wrecked he already was. 

Dark hair curtaining those pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes, your slick glossing prettily over his plump lips - all the way down to his cheeks, his sharp jawline. And only getting sloppier with each movement,

“Me?” you blink tearily - fuck, when did it get so good you started crying? And why was Toji much the same? Dark eyes wet and miles away. 

“Mhm.”

“S’your fault for being so- so-” As if the words were failing him, Toji’s only moves to suck harsher on your throbbing clit. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid ah! ah! ah! “-like this.”

Even through the haze of it all, you manage out a huff of laughter, “Like this?”

For this, you get a sharp smack! on the fat of your ass. Thick fingers soothing over the sting almost immediately so that you’re not bowing your body away from Toji’s persistent mouth, “S’it so bad if I wanna taste my sweet girl?.” He moans, sounding so genuinely pained, “But I need you- need to taste this fuuuck pretty cunt so bad. Gonna die if I don’t- if I-” 

“Hngh- yes- fuck fuck fuck, Toji-” your fingers threat their way into his soft hair. Tugging and pulling with each harsh lap at your cunt. Your body arching like a slut as if on command when he speeds up, “-feels too good. M’so close fuck-”

“Be messy, be loud- I don’t fucking care.” he hisses, brows furrowing in concentration. And whatever’s left of that practical little part of your hazy mind wonders whether it doesn’t hurt - whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up, mouth aching. “Jus- jus wan’ you to cum on m’tongue. You’ll let me taste you, right, doll? Want it want it want it so fuckin’ bad-”

You didn’t know who wanted you to cum more - you, or your dear boyfriend.

But when you do - you have you answer. 

“F-fuck, Toji.” your gummy walls clench around where he was bullying his tongue inside. “M’cumming- M’cumming m’cumming m’- ah!” 

“Give it t’me. Give it allll to me that’s it.” Because Toji’s lapping at each and every syrupy drop of your juices, moaning into your cunt as you ride him through your high. Addicted. The vibrations having your hips stuttering and unstable on top of him. 

He lets his thumb draw lazy, tight circles on your sensitive clit. Unstopping - even when you’re blinking back your spotty vision, tears crinkling at the corner of your eyes at the overstimulation. 

Even when you try to pull away from his ruthless mouth - little, messy strings of spit and slick snapping in the nonexistent distance. 

Even when he still darts his tongue out hastily to taste you sloppily, “One more - didn’t get enough of m’fill.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Can’t- won’t wait!

Everyone knows that your husband Nanami was protective - rightfully so. Everyone knows that just a toe out of line could have the stoic man snapping - showing off exactly why he was the one that put that pretty lil’ ring on your finger. 

But never like this. 

Never so…crazed.

And it’d only taken one too many flirty comments from some new intern in the time it’d taken Nanami to rush over there from his latest jujutsu mission. Just for your husband to drag you away from the party, barely paying attention to anything else.

Though, when you caught a glimpse of his eyes you didn’t think he could - gaze strangely hazy, breath a bit shorter, skin flushed a delicate pink. 

“Can’t believe it.” he groans, pressing you up against the wall of the nearest empty room he could find. Fat cock just nudging past that feeble ring of resistance of yours. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it. Fuck-”

You’re jumping slightly with each little profanity spat into your open mouth, bleary eyes blinking up at your Nanami. Managing out, “Is everything hah- alright, Ken?”

“Can’t fucking believe it.”

There it was again. 

That low, accusing little mantra - this time panted out into the side of your racing pulse. Breaking ever-so-slightly at the end when Nanami’s bullying his swollen cock deeper past your plushy walls, the curve of his girth having you arch like such a slut against the wall. 

Nanami growls, “Can’t fucking believe-” he slides two hands under your weakening thighs easily, picking you up like some little ragdoll to be split apart on his cock. Murmuring against your mouth, “Can’t believe you won’t let me jus’ fuck you right then and there, my love.”

You don’t know what shocks you more - Nanami’s words or the way he’s immediately letting gravity do all the work, sliding your dripping cunt so easily down his cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

All up until your pelvis was flush against those neat tufts of blond at his base. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Nanami so impatient. 

“Thought I was gonna die without your sweet cunt.” He was barely even breathing. Eyes glassy - crazed. Voice so deep and ragged when he whispers into your ear. “Should’ve jus’ let me fuck you out there, right in the middle of the ball. Made a scene n’ showed them all please- we could go back-”

And it takes you a few seconds to realize that this is Nanami. Your Nanami.

Seriously, what the fuck happened on that mission?

“But- what?” you squeal, gummy walls swallowing him up so readily despite your confusion. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

And this little comment makes Nanami physically stop, dark eyes glinting with something so dark - dangerous. Brows furrowing as he utters, “Nothing. Did you forget that I’m your husband, darling?” Having you scrambling to hang onto his broad shoulders as he walks over to splay you out so prettily on a nearby desk. “Or do I jus’ hafta remind you?”

It’s all it takes for Nanami to thrust up into your heavenly cunt. One hand holding you still on the cool desk, while the other just ravages your throbbing clit in time with his needy cock. 

“F-fuck, Ken— oh- yes yes yes-”

Fat tip pressing up against your g-spot like he had a point to prove, spearing you at each harsh, bullying thrust that has you pushed further and further up the desk. Over and over. 

The desk shifts ever-so-slightly with every smack of Nanami’s heavy balls against your ass. Creaking - but not loud enough over your obscene moans. 

“Stop-” he chokes out at the feeling of your pussy being inched away from him. You weren’t running from him that easily. Which is exactly the thought ringing through his mind when Nanami circles his large hands underneath your thighs, dragging you right across to meet his sculpted front. “Stop fuckin’ running away.” Nevermind the fact that you weren’t - voluntarily at least. “Please- need it so badly, s’like m’burning without ya. You’re gonna take my cock like a hah- g-good lil’ wife, okay?”

And Nanami knows maybe he should slow down - maybe ease you into it, first. But either it was that stupid fucking cursed technique talking or maybe the sight of some loser being all starry-eyed at you, he’s fucking you into the desk so mean. 

“Should’ve- would’ve.” he’s grunting, and you already know what he’s talking about. “Saw you in this pretty lil’ dress and fuck darling you don’t know how h-hard it was to ngh keep m’self in check.” Teeth nipping and leaving little bite marks down your neck, and shit if you were in any better state of mind you’d have had the rationality to be worried about them - about how people would talk if they saw those. “N’ I would’ve loved to. Don’ know how much I fuck- w-worship this pussy, my love. How much I was dreaming about it all day long.”

The creaking grows louder.

Your head is spinning right now, “All day long?”

“Mhm…” Nanami slurs, a loose little smile playing on his lips. “Always do. But today- fuck, today. Needed to feel you or I thought I was gonna ngh- die. Or worse.” 

“Or worse.”

Bang! 

In a split-second, you’re back bunched up in Nanami’s arms - his cock still buried deep within you. Moving. Merciless. Even though his eyes flicker downwards at the pile of wood that used to be a desk. “Lose you that promotion.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Use?

“Use me.” 

“What?”

“Use me, goddammit.”

Geto sounded almost hysterical now - words ragged, a pitch higher than normal. Staring at you with that drunk, wide-eyed gaze while you perched right on his muscular thigh. Looking as bewildered as you felt at that moment when he lets out a humorless little laugh, “That curse- fuck I should’ve known before ingesting- shit.” 

Fingers frantic - almost tearing through the fabric of his boxers as he removes them feverishly. 

And his cock didn’t just look rock-hard no- it looked so so angry. So painful. Flushed a pretty red at his weepy tip, leaking down, down, down straight to where you’d unconsciously wrapped your hand around him.

“O-oh.” he gasps in relief when you’re dragging your fist up his cock. Head throwing back to show off that long, beautiful neck - dusted with a blush going all the way down. “Could cum from just this fuuuck.”

And this was nothing like the Geto Suguru you were used to - the sweet talker who’d have you falling apart with just a few words. The one that treated sex like a game - where you were always his pretty lil’ loser.

“Care to elaborate, Sugu?” you flash him a smug smirk - one that makes his swollen cock twitch traitorously in your hand. “Shit, you’re so needy right now you could cum untouched.”

“You little bitch.” he spits out, greedy gaze stuck on the way you were beginning to drag your sloppy cunt up and down his toned thigh. In a way that makes it impossible for Geto to tear his eyes away from the way you were intentionally catching your throbbing clit on each and every dip of muscle, spreading your puffy folds. “You know what I mean.”

You’re batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, grinding your hips down harder. “I don’t.”

As if to prove your point, you squeeze around his aching dick even harder, pumping your fist all the way from his soaked base up to his sensitive slit. 

Immediately, he bucks his hips up wildly, precum smearing a glossy sheen all over your wrist. “F-fuck you.” he spits. “You little-” And oh you should’ve known that Geto was Geto despite whatever he’d been cursed with. That it’d only take him a split second to reach a hand over to smear the mess of sweet sweet juices you were trailing over his thigh. Bullying his dripping wet fingers between your lips, “You talk too fuckin’ much, gorgeous.”

Oh.

Oh, you were fucked.

“You really think I’d let you g-get away with hah that much?” Geto drawls against your ear, fingers dancing down to control your movements riding his thigh. “N’ after ngh- I was so nice.” He was pulling - dragging you at a mean little pace now. “Should’ve just shut up n’ taken it. Should’ve just used me when I asked.”

It’s like he’d forgotten all about his lust-drunk little state. 

You’re mewling, muffled around his thick fingers. Something that only makes his lips curl up into a syrupy, smug grin, “Who’s cumming untouched now? Got somethin’ to fuck- say?”

You do - and you’re thumbing teasingly under Geto’s neat slit, reveling in the way that makes his harsh little rant die in his throat. Moving your hand up and down to first his cock needily in hasty, long movements like you were trying to fuck something delicious out. 

“You little minx hah-” he’s pressing his fingers right at the back of your tongue, hot mouth kissing away the salty tears welling up behind your eyes. “S-so dirty.”

And it was dirty - your hands coated in Geto’s sheen of precum, his thigh glossy with your slick. But neither of you could bring yourselves to be disgusted - not one bit. 

Not when Geto was forcing down your hips harder, bouncing his knee to match your slutty little tempo. Faster. More desperate. Letting you concentrate on driving him fucking insane with your soft hands - palming and running only on the need to making him cum. To have him spill so hotly all over your hands. 

“Yeah, oh God that’s right- Use me use me use me-” Geto’s mouth slacks open, eyes heady and cracked only to eye the way you’re clenching and quivering around nothing. Your hips only stuttering - getting sloppier and sloppier with each weighty, hard slide down his thigh. He groans, “Fuck fuck fuck m’close-”

“M-me too-” you whine, voice breaking so pathetically at the end. “So much for coming untouched.”

Close - too close.

Close enough that you’re barely even noticing the way Geto’s stiffening up underneath you. Breath hitching in his throat before-

Slam!

“Wha-” Your back hits the plush mattress - so fast that you almost have half the mind to wonder whether this was some figment of your imagination. But, no, Geto’s hot tip nudging at your puffy folds was real. Dangerous. Waiting for just the right moment to rip you apart. His bated breath against your ear was real - very, very real. 

“You didn’t really think I’d let you off that easy, did you, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “S-sex?”

Oh, Choso sounded so fucked out just from uttering that.

And you feel the way your cunt clenches at that broken, almost-whiny little plea coming from your best friend’s mouth. Big, dark eyes blinking up at you dazedly in a way that makes you tighten your legs around his waist, pinned to the floor of- fuck, which curse site was this again?

“Mhm, Cho.” you hum, drinking in the shallow pants he lets out into your mouth when you slide his leaky, angry tip between your swollen folds. Barely teasing him between your slit, “S’the only way to get rid of this technique, right?”

Clothes are torn off, breaths coming out in pants. You don’t know if Choso registers your words - shit, you don’t know if he even hears you right now. 

Barely even breathing as he slides two shaky hands of his to rest up at your hips. Giving you a reassuring squeeze once. Twice. Before pulling you down in a split second. 

“Yes!” the word bursts out from his lips. Choso drags your body up, up, up his throbbing length like some ragdoll - until his pretty pink tip was just circling around your sloppy hole - only to bring you all the way back down again. Barely even halfway in yet, but the stretch - fuck, the stretch had you arching for more. “Yes yes yes yes yes fuck yes if you feel just like- like heaven-”

You never thought your sweet Choso would be so needy. Would buck his hips so ferally into your syrupy sweet cunt until you were second-guessing why it ever took so long to do something like this.

Until today’s fateful little mishap with another curse, that is - and oh, you’ve never been more grateful for that stray cursed technique. 

“Hngh-” you screw your eyes shut when the curve of his dick brushed against your sweet spots - unforgivingly. Spreading the fat of your ass in two big hands, trying to squeeze himself inside deeper. Again. And again and again and- “S-slow down, Cho–”

‘Slow down?” Choso breathes from below you - sounding so genuinely bewildered. Still thrusting up in stubborn, long grinds. “Y-you want me to slow down? After- after this?” He’s giving a mean thrust into your gummy pussy, eyes widening down at the heavenly view of your puffy lips sucking him up. Spread needily, bulging around his girth in a way he’d have felt sorry for if he was in any better state of mind. “Slow down- Yeah, gotta- gotta slow down.”

But he only fucks up into you harder. Stronger. Like it killed him to do anything but take you right now and right there on the floor. Messy - no rhythm or rhyme of his hips, just running on pure need and the feeling of you milking his poor cock.

And the idea of that - of your best friend being drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around his aching cock - has you a little more breathless than you’d like. Plushy walls clamping down tight. 

Almost immediately, Choso’s throwing his head back, gasping out a stuttering, “O-oh so ngh- that’s what it feels like. Always- always imagined if…” You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because two long fingers of his are latching on shyly to your sensitive clit, rolling softly. 

And if he were any less of a man, Choso would be cumming on the spot - fuck, he’d be passing out. 

“Fuuuuck tighter than I’d dreamt of.” he whimpers, cock twitching wildly inside your dripping cunt. Deft fingers find a lewd little rhythm to toy with your ravaged clit. “Have to slow down- have to- can’t.”

He was out of control now. Sloppy. Teary praises leaving those pretty pink lips with each bullying piston of his hips. 

“Ch-Choso!” you whine, dragging your hips down to meet his sloppy cadence.

Choso’s eyes flutter to the back of his head, grunting “Yes, yes that’s it, my baby. Say my name.” Using his inhuman strength to put pressure on your hips. “Take it- take it please. Wan’ see you full of m’cock.” All the way until the heady bedroom echoes with a loud smack! his fat head kissing your cervix, heavy balls imprinting against your ass. 

And then it’s like something snapped. 

Choso’s sanity - his restraint. Possibly you by the end of this. 

Because in all of two seconds, he’s flipping the two of you over. Your back pressed against the cool floor, legs thrown over his shoulders until your knees were folded all the way up into your tits, Choso groans into your ear at the all new angle. 

Not wasting a second longer before fucking you in this mean little mating press, abs rippling with each heavy, calculated movement. 

“Baby…” Choso drags his lips up your neck, sharp canines biting down on your earlobe. Gentle - the complete opposite of his rock-hard cock. “Think if I cum inside s’gonna solve the curse?”

Oh.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - True kinda love

You thought you’d seen everything there is about the king of curses. Anything from those smug kisses he’d give you after taking care of “scum curses” for fun to the times he’d begrudgingly watch sappy movies with you - only to fuck away your tears at the end. 

You thought.

But oh you’d never seen him like this - yukata torn apart, no longer fitting how much bigger was, how much stronger his form was. His true form. 

Muscles just bulging on all four arms, eyes half-lidded, dark nails leaving neat little indents where he held your squirming hips sat prettily on two matching, painfully hard cocks. 

Well, “sat prettily” was an understatement - right now you felt so full you could’ve just died.

“Heh, better not die on me just yet because I feel like m’gonna kill fucking everyone..” Sukuna’s large pecs rumble with laughter- shit, had you said that out loud? “Everything.” Long tongue coming up to lick a hot trail up the big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Whispering raggedly, “God- fuck! How’d you want it? Like I’m me or like hah- this?”

It’s all you can do to crane your head up deliriously, batting your teary lashes in a way that makes Sukuna twitch so wildly. 

His veins thump! thump! thumping into your gummy walls, fat heads nudging right at your bruised cervix - your lungs it felt like. Hips grinding up into yours when he’s shoving himself impossibly deeper, “Answer me.”

“Fuck!” you’re gasping, stupidly. Glassy gaze flitting down to the two angry cocks bullied inside your poor pussy. And still going. “N-no, your true ngh- form- fuck-” 

“Oh yeah?”

Your words are coming out a garbled mess, making such a sly, dangerous leer spread across Sukuna’s lips. Fucking up faster. Sloppier. 

Oh, the feeling had him lightheaded. Had him thankful he lost control of his powers to maintain that pathetic human image of his. Had him ramming past those rings of muscle again. And again. And again and again- oh he was fucked.

“Fuuuck, feel like m’burning. M’so lucky.” Sukuna slurs out, a free hand of his busying itself toying with your throbbing clit. Pulling, rolling in a way he knows will have you whining so prettily. “Sooo fuckin’ lucky I didn’t kill that fuckin’ trash curse.” Glossing his wrists with your sweet sweet juices, lips kissing at your heated ears. “Because now I get to see how much of a slut my girl is f’me, hm?”

The only answer he’s getting is a wet string of profanities that even Ryomen Sukuna himself is proud of. 

Because suddenly Sukuna’s crashing his achy tips against your g-spot, throwing his head back at how fucking sinful it felt to be rubbing up against himself. 

“Shit- yer only getting tighter.” he spits, strained. Sculpted thighs rippling underneath you where he was fucking up into you in jagged, methodical half-thrusts to mold your sweet cunt to him. “Ngh- fuuuck gonna be the death of me, pretty girl.”

“Please-” you’re clawing at the sheets, the headboard, Sukuna’s shoulders - anything and everything to keep your sanity. Begging for- what? Mercy? More? “Please please- m’so close. Kuna ngh-”

He cranes his head down to kiss at your slack lips, breaths feverish. “Damn. Open that m-mouth now, brat. Jus’ a bit- jus’ a bit more.” 

Your mouth is sagging open, tongue lolling out before you know it - positioned perfectly for the bigger man to purse his lips and spit. Once. Twice. 

And Sukuna knew he had perfect aim, he knew he could’ve made this easy for you - but, no, the steady stream of saliva is splattering against the side of your mouth. A large thumb of his coming up to swipe the mess across your wobbly lower lips. 

“My girl deserves to be treated like the slut she is, right?”

His true form has those inhumanly large fingers moving so unfairly fast on your clit, rolling and pinching in an obscene little blur. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you sob, ass stinging where his heavy balls were smacking you - sure to leave a few embarrassing marks. And fuck he’s not even all the way in yet. “Y-you’re so deep- so much. Close Hngh-”

Sukuna’s grinning, two hands helping just drag you down his sloppy length, until your sopping folds were kissing at his toned pelvis. Another dancing up to knead and grope your sloppy hole open wider, “Say it. Say who you’re acting like such a slut for.”

“It’s- fuck!”

“Say it properly, my cockdrunk girl. Say it if you wanna cum.”

“You!” your words fail you pathetically, and the only think you’re moaning next is Sukuna’s name - like a prayer. “S’you Kuna oh-”

And then you’re cumming - white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, and Sukuna’s name in your mouth. Arching into his body. His tongue slipping past your puffy lips to muffle his own moans because God this was the hardest he’d cum in his life and he wasn’t about to drown out any of your pretty moans with it. 

“Oh-” Sukuna shudders, fucking you over and over through your high. Two hands carrying your weight and- shit, when did he stand up? “Yeahh, milk me like that, just it mm knew you were so good f’me-”

You’re realizing with a jolt that he’d gotten up, using gravity to his advantage and sliding you up and down his swollen cocks like some glorified sextoy. So easily. So sinfully while he filled your poor overfilled over and over. 

Thick, hot globs of cum that drool down your messy cunt, so fucking much from both his throbbing cocks. Like he couldn’t - wouldn’t stop. 

Enough to form a pool at Sukuna’s feet. One he doesn’t even give a second glance before muttering, “Ya better hope you’re on the pill because the curse and I are far from over, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - STRONGEST

You thought it would bate by his second orgasm. 

And when it didn’t, well, surely the third time was the charm…

Or, well on the slight chance that that didn’t work - the fourth would be the last, right? Right?

“Sweetheart…” Gojo mutters, teary, red-rimmed eyes peering so unfairly into your hazy ones. Folding your trembling, limp legs back into such a tight mating press. “Jus’ one more time. Please? I promise this fifth time’s gonna be the last.” 

Wrong. And here you were, folded up in half underneath the great Gojo Satoru - the strongest, the same sorcerer that can take down a special grade and let himself be hit by its cursed technique (“out of curiosity!”) in the same breath. 

“A-another?” you mutter, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended. Thighs tightening involuntarily where they were thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. “Toru, are you sure-”

Your dear boyfriend’s only giving you a slow, lazy nod. A dopey smile spreading over his face when he spots the trail of gooey white dribbling down your poor, overfilled pussy, gushing out of you with each languid thrust. Oh- shit, when had he started moving again? You bet even he didn’t know that answer.

And before you can react, Gojo’s taking the time to pool the sinful mess on two of his fingers - promptly bullying them back into your already stuffed cunt.

Fuck, you’re not making it out of this alive.

“Shit, taking me so e-easily, huh?” Gojo’s raw, pink lips fall open when your sloppy hole stretches just enough to accommodate his long fingers. “Y-yeah tha’s it. Take it like m’good girl.” Tears of sensitivity pricking behind his eyes when you clench around him so fucking tight, your plushy walls just milking his ravaged cock. “F-fuck s’too sensitive. Too much!”

And despite his own little whines at the back of his throat, Gojo makes no move to stop. 

Did he say he’d stop? Ah, his fried brain couldn’t remember anymore.

None at all, instead, he’s raising his glossy finger pads right up to his mouth. Blue eyes falling shut when he presses them inside momentarily, sucking, savoring the taste of you and him and you-

“You’re t-too much, Toru.” you squeal in embarrassment. 

And that’s all it takes the strongest to let out a barely-lucid hum of agreement - pulling out his fingers with a lewd pop! 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” he leans down to hum, breath hot against your face. “But what can I- ngh- do-” Each word was punctuated by a harsh, sloppy smack of his hips against your own. Not even bothering pulling all the way out - Gojo doesn’t have to, because he’s nudging all your sweet spots so expertly anyway. Grunting out over those absolutely lewd squelches, “I just want- need you so bad. S’like m’burning from the inside hah- o-out if I don’t ngh fuck this pretty pussy.” He’s babbling deliriously, bent so far down now that your forehead is pressed up against his, thighs burning at the stretch. “-need it so bad. Need it - my one weakness, sweetheart. S’gonna kill me- gonna be the death of me oh-”

“Please!” you think you could almost feel Gojo’s cum sloshing around your walls right now. Fucking you into the mattress so hard - so deep - that you wonder by what miracle the neither of you haven’t broken anything yet. 

It wasn’t a miracle - it was his reverse cursed technique, which the both of you discover only much, much later. 

But for now you’re only clinging desperately to Gojo’s muscled shoulders, bones popping in protest. Fucked-out whimpers spiling from his pretty mouth each time he was slamming his poor, overused cock inside you. Teary eyes screwing shut because shit it hurt so good. Too good. 

“F-Fuck!” you’re gasping when he dances his fingers straight down to draw hasty, feverish little circles on your poor clit. Fingers clawing at his persistent wrist, “Oh my god-”

Gojo hums into your mouth, “J-just ‘Toru’ is fine.”

You let his cocky little comment slide - if only because your boyfriend was smashing into your g-spot repeatedly now. Over and over.

Voice about an octave higher when he’s groaning, “Y-yeah, that good? Ngh- ah!” His hips were stuttering forwards - messy, so so needy like he was drunk on those cute lil’ whines tearing from you with each drag of his cock. “Yeah fuck fuck f-fuck yer killin’ me - pussy too good, feels like m’gonna die.”

God, he really did feel like he could die. Fuck. 

“M-me too ngh, Toru.” you wrench your eyes open when something so wet splashes onto your cheeks. Boring into Gojo’s glassy, pussydrunk eyes. Crying now. “M’so close-”

“O-oh yeah?”

And then he’s speeding up - if that was even possible. Flushed skin smacking against yours harder. Just a bit more calculated. Like he couldn’t stop. Uncontrollable. 

Enough for Gojo to blink away the slight haze in his eyes and actually look at you. Look at the way your lips wobble with each glide of his fat tip against your sensitive spots, the way you milk him harder when he’s smearing his mess of cum all over your clit. At those delirious little heart-eyes you give him when he only lets his jaw sag open, such fucking embarrassing whimpers of your name being drawn all the way from his overworked cock. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.” he manages to grit out. “Cum f’me cum f’me, please. Please.”

And how could you not when the strongest asks you so prettily?

You don’t know who cums first - just that your own orgasm is a wave of tingles that shoot all the way from your toes right into your stupidly fucked-out brain. Again and again and Gojo-

Oh, Gojo can’t do anything but bury his head into the crook of your neck. Sharp teeth biting down hard at the point of your pulse as he cums over and over and over. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed right into your silky cunt. A sinful little white that drools out of your sloppy slit - too much. 

“Sweetheart…” Oh, you knew that tone - too well. “Y’know how I h-have the ah- six eyes n’ this was only our fifth round and six is really a nice num-”

“M’gonna kill you, Toru.”

“S’that dirty talk for our sixth round?”

A/N. TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO TEARY GOJO

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x fem reader)

You had always been their sweetheart.

Soft, tender, and gentle- the heart of their home. The warmth in the spaces between them, the one they curled around after long days of violence, soothed by your touch and your voice, the way you cared for them without hesitation. No matter how much blood stained their hands, no matter what nightmares haunted their sleep, you were there. Unshaken. Unyielding in your love, hands gentle and soft as you cradled them close and warm.

So they had never needed to know about the things you kept buried.

The past you refused to unearth. The things you could do, the person you had been before them- before you had a home to call your own, before you had people who held you just as carefully as you held them.

They didn’t need to know, and you didn’t need to think about it.

Until they went missing.

You first learned something was wrong when John’s daily check-in didn’t come.

It had always been a habit of his, something he did without fail, no matter how far away he was. Just to let you know I’m breathing, love. That was what he had said, years ago, the first time he had explained it to you. You had teased him for it- What, you don’t trust me to not burn the house down?- but he had only smiled, voice steady and sure when he told you, I like knowing you’re safe.

It had never failed. Not once. Even when he himself could not text you, Lasswell herself assured you they were fine and merely had to be careful.

But now came the silence.

No messages. No calls. No updates.

You tried not to panic. They were on a mission, after all. Maybe something had gone wrong with their comms, or maybe they had been forced to go dark, and Lasswell was busy. It had happened before, and they had always come back to you, whole and alive, pressing their faces into your neck, murmuring apologies and reassurances.

But then a full week passed.

Then two.

And no one would tell you a thing and Lasswell wasn’t picking up, either.

You had tried- had called, had knocked on doors, had pushed until you were met with polite deflections and stone-cold refusals.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that information is classified.”

“There’s nothing we can share at this time.”

“We appreciate your patience.”

Patience.

As if you would sit here, helpless, and just wait. Hopeless, and helpless, and unable to do a single thing to help then.

No. No, you had done that before. You had waited before. And it had cost you everything.

You weren’t that girl anymore. You weren’t a victim of circumstance, hoping for scraps of kindness, praying for someone to do right by you.

If no one would help, you would do it yourself; because they were yours, and they were the best thing that have ever happened to you, and you weren’t going to lose them.

Tracking them down was easier than you expected.

You had spent years curating the image of someone soft and harmless, someone not worth keeping secrets from. And people loved to talk. Especially when they thought you were just a grieving, desperate woman trying to find a lost fiancé and his friends.

All it had taken was a few well-placed words, a few tearful looks, and doors had opened.

It had taken only days to pinpoint their last known location, then. After you’d hunted down Laswell, and had her help you. Though you were glad to see that she was working to find out where they were, as well, and merely lacked the manpower because of some general named Shepherd.

You filed the name away for later thoughts.

A warlord with connections to arms smuggling in Eastern Europe. An old base, abandoned by one regime and taken over by another. And your men had been sent in to dismantle it.

But they hadn’t come back. MIA, the reports said.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care for those three letters. You moved.

You gathered supplies, mapped out your route, planned your approach with the precision of someone who had done it before. You emptied old caches, dusted off weapons you hadn’t touched in years, and set off.

The infiltration was clean; a single shadow among many, slipping between patrols, cutting down obstacles with silent, brutal efficiency. Years it may have been, you hadn’t gotten as rusty as you’d feared you’d be.

You had never been squeamish. You had learned long ago that softness had no place in survival- but it could thrive and bloom in the aftermath, a stubborn weed that eventually makes way for a full bouquet.

But this was different.

This was fury burning in your blood as you carved a path forward, every movement precise- you couldn’t afford any less.

You didn’t stop, no matter what.

Not until you found them at last, and your heart ached something fierce abd sharp in your chest.

Caged. Beaten. Bound but not broken- and drugged.

I should have been more rough, you mourn for a split second. An easy death was more mercy than what was deserved.

John’s head lifted first, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Love-?”

Then Simon, bloodied but breathing, his body sluggish with whatever chemicals they had pumped into him. Every part of him was covered in blood and cuts.

Johnny’s voice, then, hoarse and raw, full of disbelief and worry. “No. No, you’re not- this insnae real-“

And Kyle, whose breath hitched as you knelt beside him, gentle fingers brushing against his bruised face.

They thought they were dreaming; they thought you weren’t real.

And maybe that was a… mercy.

Because if they had been clear-headed, if they had seen what you had done to get here, if they had watched the way you had cut down anyone in your path with merciless efficiency-

They would have looked at you differently.

And you couldn’t bear that. To have their illusion of your gentleness shattered like that…

So you played along.

Whispered reassurances, pressed kisses to sweat-damp foreheads, untied their bindings with careful hands. You coaxed them to move, guided them through the corridors you’d emptied, wiped away the blood that dripped from their skinz

And when they sagged against you, too dazed to fight, too lost in the haze of their drugged delirium, you held them-

Kept them safe, and brought them home.

Later, they woke in a hospital, clean and stitched and safe.

You were already there, fussing over them, your voice soft and sweet, your fingers gentle as you pressed cool cloths to fever-warm skin, brushed stray curls from foreheads, adjusted pillows and blankets with quiet determination. Dressed in something white and pink, the colors of innocence, nails cleaned of blood even if your hands will never be truly clean.

You looked the same as ever.

Pretty and delicate, their lovely girl, their tender-hearted sweetheart.

And for all that had happened, all that they had suffered, all that you had done-

They never suspected a single thing, and you didn’t tell them; didn’t tell them that there had been no extraction team. That there had been no grand military rescue- not even from the the same military that had abandoned them.

(His name was General Shepherd. You will not forget it- you’d need to carve his name on the bullet you’ll save just for him, after all.)

That it had been you.

Only you.

Only Laswell knew the truth, and she would keep your secret because she understood what it meant to protect the people you loved.

And if you had to carry this weight alone to keep them from ever looking at you like you were something other-

So be it.

You sat beside John, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers curled weakly around yours.

You smiled at Simon when his hand brushed against your knee, seeking reassurance, seeking you, his eyes tired.

You let Johnny hold you, his arms tight around your waist as he mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder, still half-lost in the remnants of the drugs.

And when Kyle murmured: “At leas’ you’re safe, pretty.” His voice thick with sleep-

You just smiled and ran your fingers carefully through his hair, and held them the way you always had.

And pretended that everything was exactly the same.

(Part Two)

[4dbeingguide]

11 tips from a master manifestor.

y’all have been loving my first post and it’s really encouraged me to come back. this time i have 11 tips for you! i would’ve really appreciated a post like this when i was a beginner so i’ve decided to make it for those who may also be starting with their journey. actually it doesn’t matter where you are on this road, this is supposed to help everybody, including master manifestors (yes, sometimes doubts cross our minds, we just know how to deal with them)!

there is a lot of repetition as there are some concepts i want to emphasize on. excuse any grammar errors. let’s get straight to it!

stop giving a fuck about the 3D. that is absolute (as in, don’t check it, don’t wait for anything from it, don’t let it get to you). just stop. i have a post over here that will really help you in doing so (and no, it isn’t me cursing at you while ordering you to stop. it’s me having a discussion with you and listening to your doubts while refuting them and i also back it up with scientific sources).

acknowledge that you already are a master manifestor. you’re already where you need to be. don’t let the illusion that is the 3D tell you otherwise!

if you see a piece of manifestation advice that rubs you the wrong way then simply act as if it’s false and doesn’t apply to your reality. you make the rules.

speaking of rules, make yourself some manifesting rules that dictate that manifesting is effortless and instant for you. don’t settle for less.

keep a success story list (and yes, you can put stuff that you’ve assumed that hasn’t appeared in the 3D since the 4D is the only reality) so that you can use it to reaffirm your belief in the law if you ever doubt it.

never seek approval from the 3D for ANYTHING. it is an ILLUSION. your 4D/mind/assumptions are the OBJECTIVE reality. this also applies to the state of waiting and wanting. why do you want to wait for the approval of an illusion? and what are you wanting when it’s already here?

the 3D is not your enemy and it is impossible for the 3D to reject your manifestation. the bitch is inanimate lmao. have you ever walked in front of a mirror and had it tell you “i’m not gonna reflect right now”? i’m sure the answer is no. the 3D works the same way. it EXISTS to reflect our assumptions. that’s its entire purpose. it is nothing but an illusory perception of our 4D. it actually obeys you down to a T. i was gonna say it’s your pet but pets are actually alive and autonomous, the 3D isn’t. the 3D just an inanimate illusion. your business is in the 4D. that’s where you live.

you don’t need a technique. to manifest, all you have to do is assume you have it or enter the state of having it. techniques simply exist to help you do so (that’s why we affirm/visualize/etc. that we have it) but you can do it directly. that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them. do what feels most natural to you. do what is the most efficient when it comes to making you fulfilled (not what gives it to you fastest in the 3D. remember, it’s an illusion).

you shouldn’t care if the 3D will give it to you or not. the 3D is an illusion, remember? a simple way to get yourself to put your eyes on the 4D is saying something to the effect of “this 3D/physical world isn’t real/is an illusion, the 4D/mind is the only true reality, i live in the 4D and thus all my affairs are there and not in the 3D and this is what the 4D is saying: (insert manifestation)”. seriously, all your affairs are in the 4D. you’re 4 dimensional.

when doubts persist, reading rants and banging pots and pans might help sometimes but sometimes you just have to sit down with yourself and have an internal dialogue. you’re human (probably 🤔 just in case you’re manifesting otherwise as you read this, and yes it IS possible). hear what your doubts have to say in full (don’t buy it though) and debunk them calmly and civilly.

limits don’t exist. imagination is the only reality. if you can imagine it then it can happen unless you say it can’t.

if you liked this post, make sure to check out my post here!!! in it i elaborate on how to deal with doubts. have an amazing day 🫶

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

Just random random headcannons about my wife <3

She makes lots of noises; grunts, sighs, groans. It’s basically a language that only you can understand at this point.

“Hmph,” she grunted with her usual grumpy expression. “You want cuddles?” She nods her head in response.

Snores but denies it. It’s like when you’re sharing a hotel room with your family and your dad’s snoring keeps you awake; staring at the ceiling. You’ve told her multiple times but she just doesn’t believe it.

“You kept me awake all night,” you said in disbelief as your utterly exhausted eyes met hers. “Uh-huh, how? Do NOT say because I was snoring.””You were snoring.”

But in all seriousness, she started sleeping on her side—the snoring was due to her sleeping on her back.

Doesn’t care for public affection, not that she won’t slip her arm around your waist or have her hand on your thigh once in a while—but it isn’t often.

(Saw someone else say this)—absolutely loves dad jokes. She won’t laugh at anything else but dad jokes.

“Hey babe,” you slid next to her on the couch. “Hm?””What days are the strongest?“ you asked. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Saturday and Sunday,” you started to smile. “Why?” She was slightly curious. “‘Cause the rest are weekdays,” she couldn’t even hold it before she burst out laughing.

Takes her mechanical arm off before she goes to bed because she doesn’t wanna hurt you.

Tough with everyone else but you, Jinx and Isha (they’re alive and well).

Isha made a cheerful noise as she raised her tea cup. Sevika sat across from her, hunched over the small table, teacup in hand. She pretended to drink from it, “Mm, nice.”

Perfers actions over words—for example, her version of an apology is by doing more of what she should’ve done in the past. If she wasn’t spending much time with you before, she’d immediately take it upon herself to fix her schedule.

VERY protective, especially when you’re at The Last Drop, nothing escapes her vision.

Once, this guy attempted to flirt with you but before he could get a word out, he was immediately met with a deadly glare from her. She pulled you closer towards her with a raised eyebrow, “You got something to say?” That sent him babbling in fear, “Uh-no, no, of course not!—“”Get out of my sight.”

Claims she’s not an animal person but will come home with a kitten she found on the street.

“It wouldn’t stop following me,” she said while avoiding eye contact with you. You knew she was lying.

Sometimes when she comes back from work she’ll just collapse on the couch. She’s a busy woman, alright?

Jinx cut her hair then made fun of her afterwards.

Jinx cackled after she looked at the final product, “Sweetcheeks ain’t gonna love you now, are they?” The older woman simply grumbled under breath, “You’re the one who cut it.””Yeah and I made it ugly on purpose.”

You ended up loving her hair anyway.

Secretly likes when you lay on top of her; loves seeing how comfortable you are

She’s always warm; your personal heater

Somehow gives the best hugs—bear hugs, but is so awkward with it

Takes the longest showers known to mankind; once she gets in, be prepared to wait about an hour. Meanwhile, half the time it’s just her staring at the wall.

Will let Isha climb her on rare occasions; sometimes the girl gets insanely hyper and is moving all over the place.

Says she’s “not fond of kids” but has a soft spot for them.

A little boy with blue-dyed hair walked up to her while she was outside one day. “H-hi, can you please sign this?” He asked in a soft-spoken manner, showing a drawing, offered with a crayon. She didn’t respond but took the paper and signed her name on the back. Internally, she was in disbelief that this boy looked up to her in some way. “Thank you!” He gave a big smile before running back to his group of friends, happily showing them the signature. A twitch edged at the end of her mouth.

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.

“Batman. What can I do for you?”

“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”

“Pardon?”

Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.

“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”

“No…? Why?”

“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.

“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.

“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”

The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.

“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”

“Hn.”

“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”

Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”

“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”

“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”

“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.

“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”

“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”

“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.

“Totally. Yup.”

“…Fine.”

“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”

“Yes.”

——

“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.

“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”

Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.

Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…

Ah!

“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.

“Anyways, fork over my payment.”

Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.

“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”

“I don’t litter.”

“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”

“An alive friend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.

——

“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”

“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”

[salemlunaa]

✮GET EXCITED, YOUR SUCCESS IS INEVITABLE✮

No matter how much shit you’re going through, trust me you’re going to make it out….

You’re going to get out of here, you and I both know that. don’t stress, no matter what you’re going through, it isn’t permanent and that’s because you decide everything, because you are everything.

You’re going to make it out, you’re going to get out of here, you’re going to succeed, you’re gonna make it. it’s all gonna be okay because you have everything in the palm of your hand. Whatever the 3d is showing you isn’t real, because it doesn’t have to be.

You’re going to get your dream, no matter what. breathe and understand that manifestation and inducing the void is one of the easiest things you can do, like breathing. You can have everything at the snap of a finger, so guess what, you’re going to be okay. You might feel paralysed watching those who came after you succeed first, you may feel paralysed, procrastinating the inducing process, waiting it off until the last moment, but remind yourself why you’re doing all this, remind yourself about the shitty life you’re experiencing in the 3d.

Get excited for everything you’re going to experience when you get out of this shithole. You deserve the best after the shit you’ve been through, stop pushing back. Once you stop holding it off and really see how easy it is, you’re going to get out of here. Keep telling yourself that in the face of doubt, procrastination and fear. I promise that you will make it out of here.

There are people who go to sleep in apartments and wake up in mansions, people who go to sleep hating their face and body and wake up with new ones. There are people who went to sleep not satisfied with their wallet, their family and friends and woke up with all of that changed. How? They realised that the constant fear and laziness was keeping them from everything that was right infront of them and decided to utilise the knowledge they’ve gained. They decided to apply that knowledge and actually try. They decided that as a god, as an operant power they can do everything.

There is no trial and error for a god, you just do, you just be. You’re scared that you will fail, so you put the void off, you put manifesting off. But, let me tell you, there is no such thing as failure for you and you will make it out of here and you will do so effortlessly. So effortlessly that you will be kicking yourself asking why you didn’t lock in sooner.

I don’t don’t care how you’re feeling in this very moment, just know that it will pass and that you’re going to make it out, alive, happy, beautiful and with everything you have ever dreamed of.

I love the saying “what you don’t change you choose” don’t choose this shithole of a life, go get up and do something!! Your success is inevitable so why make yourself wait with procrastination?

YOU’RE MAKING IT OUT OF THE TRENCHES, DONT WORRY DARLING 💋🫂

[jiarkives]

can you watch my boyfriend for me?

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you do the trend where you ask your followers to watch your boyfriend.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — pretend they’re still in the tower,,, no endgame au; they’re all happy and alive 🤭 this piece is shorter i just wanted to write

~

Whenever you scroll on TikTok, you would come across videos where the user would ask their followers and viewers to watch their boyfriend for them. You find every video adorable and wholesome, so you decided to try it on your 107-year-old boyfriend, who is currently eating his breakfast alone. Perfect.

You approach your unsuspecting boyfriend with the video already rolling, then you place the phone in front of him. “Can you watch my boyfriend for me while I do my business? Thanks, you guys.” Then you’re gone before he could even get a word in.

He looks back to where you walked off before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks over to the camera with his awkward but lovable smile.

“Guess you’re all stuck with me... whoever you are.” His brows then furrow. “Wait, are you even there? I don’t know. I’ve been getting the hang of these newer technology, but... they’re tricky, you know?”

He shrugs, eating a spoonful of cereal, his eyes lighting up slightly as he turns his bowl towards the camera. “Oreos as cereals.” He snorts.

“I wonder what’s taking her so long,” he mumbles with a worried frown. “What if it’s the time of her month? She’ll tell me, right?”

But you don’t come and somewhere during the video, Steve appears with Sam as they come back from their run. The video becomes more chaotic and noisier with Steve and Sam, but they quickly leave after a few minutes and he’s alone again. And you still hasn’t come back.

As the video hit its ten minute mark, you come back with a grin, taking your phone and speaking, “Thanks, guys!”

Once the video is turned off, Bucky turns to you with his brows drawn together in concern. “Is it your time of the month?”

Bonus — comments:

User 1: he was nice didn’t try to bite 10/10 i will watch again

User 2: he brought friends over when you left is that okay???

User 3: dude!!! i babysat the avengers!!! wait til my friends hear about this