#just peering into your bones

[faggotfungus]

[imminent-danger-came]

*saying this increasingly frantic* If I get the parallel to 3x11 where LBD calls herself a child and Wukong goes "We both know that's not what you are!" And then later LBD asks him if he would really kill an innocent child to kill her and Wukong says "You're giving me no choice! All that time spent locked away and you haven't changed a bit! I'm going to finish this, like I should have done a long time ago!". I am WAITING for this to be applied to MK. I'm waiting. For the love of god please. Look, look, LBD and MK have their "What I am" parallels, and if MK was sealed in the stone (al la EAMK) but he actually came out a child, and he gave Wukong a choice. Do you get me. Do you understand. MK was actually a child. He was a simple creature, with "no past, no family, and no name". And then he became MK, and made it so Wukong could mentor him rather than destroy him. Yet at the same time, destiny always finds you. You can't run from it (ilu 2x09) or rather you can't run from yourself (destiny and identity are intertwined) (MK literally fails to run from himself in 4x07). SO HERE'S HOW WE GET OUR MK VS THE WORLD CHOICE—

[savage-rhi]

Fuschia/Magenta?

[legionofpotatoes]

nimona thoughts! still my top movie of the year so far!!

been thinking about how to frame my thoughts on this gem, and I ultimately arrived at a bit of a pretentious jumping-off point. but honestly, my favorite stories are always the ones that end up demoting the whats, the hows, and sometimes even the whos in service of the whys. it's the hardest question and context to tackle in any story, and it's worth interrogating the most in order to find any true meaning, any connection at all to what's told.

nimona shows exactly why walling yourself away from the "others" isn't good enough. it shows why you have to do the work and see them.

not just that it is dogmatically "the right thing to do". not just depicting what certain systemic injustices are, how they are deployed, and who they are targeted at. but the why. that simplest, purest shape of questioning an injustice dating back to your gentlest time as a child, when you were vulnerable, naive, and truly curious in the best possible faith. the question you would always ask was why.

you are picking up a sword to threaten the unknown. you've been told the whos and whats. you parse it thus. but you don't know the why. you are watching this happen on TV, contextualized, simplified, dramatized. you are connecting the dots. understanding the why.

nimona painstakingly drills down on that why. arduously, achingly digging past the institutions of fear fed by cycles of indoctrination and right down to the core of it. packaged in a simple-to-parse fantasy world built with deft, elegant metaphors and archetypes that immediately fall into place and make sense to a person of any age.

it is animation as a medium and fantasy as a genre both working in concert. a fun and colorful romp that ends on a gentle embrace of reassurance that tells children - both literal and the ones buried deep inside adults - that their first question to the world was always the correct one. because it was the kindest.

[erlandious]

Listen. Yeah, I wrote this with the intention of giving these little sillies gay undertones, but this is getting to the point where the only possible reasonings for their emotions is that they’re either (a) really best bros forever with some questionable thoughts or (b) so fucking gay for each other that they’re going to explode

[sitronsangbody]

Please, please be considerate of your fat friends' needs and limitations. Fat bodies are heavy to carry around. I move about the world slower than my thin peers, and I've often had to choose between pushing myself to keep a pace that takes absolutely all my energy, or being left behind, when walking in a group. I don't always feel safe to ask that everyone walk slower, because there's a prevalent idea in society that fat people need to exert themselves as much as possible at all times in the service of weight loss, and that we never "really" need rest, therefore it's a good thing whenever we're exhausted. Fat people and thin people alike are taught that fatness is a flaw, one that fat people ourselves are to blame for, so we're not entitled to any accommodation or consideration. A friend of mine who is fat recently told me about a dinner party she went to where the chairs were far too small for her and she was sitting very uncomfortably. After the meal she politely suggested moving the party to the couch, but the others didn't want to. She spent another couple of hours in unnecessary pain, and didn't dare tell them about it. I love my thin friends, but some of them just don't realize that I weigh probably twice as much as them, and yet I balance it all on the same size feet and carry it on about the same size bones. I'm like if they had a whole other them to carry around at all times. Why would that not have an impact on how I function? Please - take us into consideration when we're part of activities. Ask us which activities work and which don't. Adjust the pace so no one has to be dry heaving and sweating barrels on what's supposed to be a casual walk. Make sure venues have seating that fits us. Make it safe for us to speak up if we need something. When we do, don't treat us like we're the problem. Finally: yes, we have heard of losing weight. Even those of us who might (and many never will, whether you like it or not), won't do it on a moment's notice. If your response to "fat people deserve accommodations" is "what if they weren't fat though", you're playing a fantasy game. It's pointless. We are fat and we are here and we do partake in society. Work with that.

[tonycries]

One More? Please? - G.S.

Synopsis. A kiss always solves everything! But when a kiss turns into something more…well, it’s only a desperate attempt to unseal yourselves from this damned prison realm, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, coworkers to lovers, being stuck in that damn box, oral (female), mutual másturbation, spitting, fáce-sítting, máting press, Satoru is down bad for you, chóking, overstim, multiple rounds, créampie, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Happy belated two months to this blog! Concept inspired by this post by @kingkonoha.

“Maybe we should kiss and see if the box opens?”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

“Hey- it works in the movies! True love’s kiss and all-”

You heave out a heavy sigh that makes even the skeleton at your shoulder shake its head in pity. Goddamn, if these curses weren’t going to kill him then you will. 

“I take it back. That’s the dumbest fucking thing to ever come out of your mouth.”

Satoru hooks a thumb over his blindfold to gaze at you with mock seriousness. Oh, how the mighty have fallen - and how you were teetering dangerously close to a stroke with each dramatic bat of his long lashes.

“C’monnn~” he whines, with the flair of someone that was not sealed in an inescapable prison, “Don’t tell me that in all these years you’ve never once been at least a little tempted to kiss me, sweetheart.” 

“I’d rather kiss that dusty skull.” Shooting him a pointed look that makes even the skulls at your feet recoil. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that you were trapped. In the prison realm. With Gojo Satoru of all people. Possibly forever.

Shit, is this karma for all those times you ditched Satoru with Nanami instead of dealing with him yourself?

Now, Satoru might be going about it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, but just a few minutes ago when his life flashed before his very eyes at the mere sight of Suguru - or at least, the monster wearing his body - he’d expected some of his favorite memories to be the ones with you in it. 

You - his lil’ coworker - in all your gorgeous, smart-mouthed glory. And maybe if he was lucky, he even expected a couple glimpses of you in his future. Preferably with a giant rock on your finger.

But that’s a story for another time, what he certainly did not expect was for your stupidly heroic (and quite beautiful) ass to jump right in the middle of the prison realm’s ensnarement. 

Although, honestly, right now he doesn’t think he’d want to be locked up in here with anyone but you - and that withering glare you send him. 

Undeterred, Satoru has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh. Laugh. A sound you’ve come to realize over the years, as innocent as it sounds, does not bode well for you or your sanity. 

A sanity that’s been slowly dwindling since your first day of meeting Satoru. Back then, a brash, cocky new teacher that waltzed into the halls of Jujutsu Tech in those pretentious sunglasses like he owned the place. 

Well, not that he was any different right now. Lounging over some disgruntled skeletons, you half-expected him to pull out a deck chair and start sunbathing amidst the bones. Your begrudging coworker - and occasional bane of your existence - seemed right at home. 

You, however, were decidedly not having the time of your life. 

“I swear, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you grumble, wincing at the bones prodding you from almost every angle. 

“Can you blame me?” he hums, now fully tugging down his blindfold to hang around his neck, “It’s not every day I get to spend quality time with my favorite person in the world.”

You scoff, strangely self-conscious as those striking blue sweep your figure from head to toe. “Lucky me. Well why don’t you spend this quality time helping me figure out how the hell we can get out of here.”

“I already told y-”

“Anything but that.”

With a sulky huff, Satoru peers down at you, “Then we just wait till someone gets us out of here. I’m sure Megumi-chan is just tearing his emo hair out trying to unseal this thing.”

“...”

“You’re absolutely correct, Yuji then. Or…” he tilts his head towards a sad pile of bones, “We end up like our little friend over there. Though I’d make a far better looking skeleton-”

You don’t hear the rest of Satoru’s rant over the small noise of concern that falls from your lips. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach at the fact that yes you really were stuck in the prison realm with Gojo Satoru. Possibly forever. And no this wasn’t some strange dream like when you and Shoko accidentally raided the wrong brownie box in the kitchen.

Shit. 

And perhaps it showed on your face, because you’re jolted out of your reverie by warm fingers intertwining with yours. Grounding. Satoru’s eyes now searching yours with an intensity that made you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?” he mutters softly. “Remember that time we accidentally set the training ground on fire?” leaning in closer now, “Or that mission we got chased by that cursed vending machine?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Yeah, and then you nearly got us killed trying to order a sweet tea. ”

Satoru chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “See? It worked out, didn’t it? It always does, sweetheart.” 

And if your heart does a strange little lurch, well, then you just blame it on the femur jabbing into your side. 

All is quiet in your little hell. That is, until.

“Hey, Satoru…does kissing really work in the movies?” 

You barely catch the way Satoru’s breath hitches ever-so-slightly as he leans in closer. eyes sparkling with mischief. And oh you knew that look - one that was usually accompanied by a lecture by Yaga, one that sent shivers down your spine. He grins, “Well, there’s only one way to find out, hm?”

Embarrassment and amusement bubbles inside you, tumbling out in the form of a barely-audible, “A peck. One.”

“Awww. Eight?”’

“No.”

“Five?”

“Satoru.”

Minty breath fanning your face, “Okay okay, one peck and a kiss to your forehead. C’mon, it’s a bargain~”

Pinching your nose, you sigh out a weary, “This is so stupid. Fine, but if it doesn’t work then I’m strangling you.”

And it’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.  

Soft. Satoru’s lips were so soft. And he tasted so unfairly of caramel apples and sweet, sweet mischief. Just like him. Feather-light and fleeting - yet the kiss burns into your brain with an intensity that you strangely didn’t mind.

It’s over before you know it. The cold air hits your lips as Satoru’s words ring in your ears, a disappointed little, “Aw, that didn’t work.”

Barely even risking a glance at the still very sealed realm, your body reacts before your mind - the expensive cotton of his uniform collar soft against your fingers as you pull Satoru towards you with a sense of urgency you can’t quite explain.

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you because shit this is all that Satoru’s been dreaming about since he turned 23 and suddenly realized that oh you were frighteningly everything that he ever wanted. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, breathless against his lips. 

“Shhhh, my girl. One more. Didn’t work.” 

His lips are searing on yours. Urgent and greedy, because fuck if it took getting trapped in the prison realm to finally kiss you then God knows when he’ll be able to again. 

Which is why he breathes you in like he doesn’t have enough time, and probably never will - even in this godforsaken box where time never passes. 

“Shit. O-one more.”

Drinking in your sweet gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours, tasting how sinfully delicious you were. Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body, cupping your head to kiss you deeper, snaking down to squeeze your ass - and everything in between. 

Pulling away ever-so-slightly with a playful bite to your bottom lip, he leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The disappointed whine that leaves your pretty mouth makes all the blood in Satoru’s body rush to his cock. 

“Sweetheart.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. “Y’think I kissed the wrong lips?”

Oh? 

Satoru’s words send a jolt of electricity running down your spine - all the way down to your heated cunt. “W-what?” you managed to choke out, cheeks flaring as he raises his eyes to meet yours and-

Oh.

Oh, shit. If the curses weren’t going to kill you then Satoru sure might. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Satoru carefully jostling the two of you so that he’s lying on his back, your body manhandled to straddle his pretty face. 

“Satoru, when you mean ‘wrong lips’...here?” you trail off, still reeling from him and the abrupt change in position and him. 

“Exactly what I mean,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating beneath your dripping cunt. “Now, spread ‘em wider f’me. Let me taste you- Need it s’bad.”

Body moving as if on autopilot, your knees part wider to let him greedily take in the sight of your soaked panties. Beads of slick seeping through the thin fabric each time his hot breath meets your cunt. 

But not for long - the cool air hits you before you realize what’s happening. Because Satoru is ripping your flimsy panties off with one hand. Throwing it behind to God-knows-where with the urgency of a madman. 

“Shit, so wet f’me already.” he groans, mouth watering at the obscene sight of you clenching around nothing. “S’gorgeous. You really are perfect everywhere, huh?” he mutters through lazy, languid kisses along your thighs. Tongue darting out just so to leisurely trace circles along the heated skin. 

Strong arms wrap around your thighs, the stretch nothing with the two long fingers spreading your swollen folds apart. Your face burns from just how adoring Satoru looks below you.

You buck into his touch, “Hngh- Please. Wan’ your mouth on me.”

And perhaps the great Gojo Satoru decided to be merciful for once in his life, because without another word, he’s surging forward. Tongue flicking out to tease your sloppy entrance, pooling your juices before tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat so sinfully.

Shit, Satoru could just cum in his pants right now, of course you taste heavenly. Better than he could’ve ever imagined on any lonely night. 

You shudder as he flattens his tongue across your folds, sliding teasingly between them, grazing your swollen clit just barely at an unhurried rhythm that almost has Satoru forgetting where he was. But quite frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he hums around your clit, the vibrations making you squeal. Sucking gently, tongue rolling harshly against your bundle of nerves, over and over- “Cause it’s what I’ve been wanting for years.”

The words ring in your ears almost as much as the lewd squelches below. Years?

“F-fuck- feels hngh- What do you mean y-years, Satoru?” 

Oh, Satoru thinks he could pass out just at the way you whine out his name so prettily. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, a hand hastily snaking down to unbuckle his pants. “Mhmm~ Couldn’t go a day without sparring with you where I didn’t think of bending you over and tasting you right there y’know.”

Your eyes snap down to meet Satoru’s hazy, half-lidded ones. Something dark and feral shining within them. And right now, thighs wrapped around his head, you don’t think he’s ever looked happier. White locks splayed out, a fucked-out expression on his face as his tongue bullies past your folds, you could feel the slight smile curling his lips against you. 

It’s overwhelming - both his confession and the way Satoru was making out with your cunt like a man starved.

Nose-deep in your pussy, tongue alternating between its abuse on your throbbing clit and dipping in and out of your sloppy hole at a maddening pace. Mouth only speeding up ruthlessly at the way you convulse and grind involuntarily on top of him.

God, Satoru was going insane at the way your walls were sucking him up so good, clamping down with each push of his tongue. 

“Shit- made jus’ f’me. You like that, don’t you?” he growls against your cunt, voice hoarse with desire. “Like fucking my face with your pussy?”

“Oh! Ngh, yes Satoru- L-love it-”

A bruising grip on your hips, encouraging you to rock against his face. Harder. Tongue more desperate. He couldn’t get enough. Meeting your every grind, tongue lapping at your cunt so obscenely. 

Breaths ragged and hot against your cunt, drinking you in with the desperation of a man that wouldn’t mind giving up air for your essence. And it was Satoru - of course he wouldn’t mind.

Especially with the large hand snaking up your thigh, going from drawing reassuring patterns at your hips to rubbing tight, little circles on your pulsing clit. Hasty, and urgent - like he had no time to waste. “Tha’s right, my girl. Give it up for me,”

Every cell in your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure at the way Satoru plays your body like an instrument. 

“M’close, Satoru- Hah- s’close.” you moan breathlessly, a hand tangling in his soft strands. Using it as leverage to ride Satoru’s pretty face just the way you like it.

But you didn’t have to - because Satoru seems to already know exactly what to do. Exactly how to quirk his tongue just right to brush against all your most sensitive spots. Exactly how to match the rhythm of his abuse on your clit to the way he was tonguefucking you into delirium. Exactly how to look at you with such a hungry expression that devours you almost as much as his mouth. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Satoru didn’t even have to ask. Because you’re cumming with a strangled gasp of his name. White-hot pleasure coursing through you like lightning, body trembling as you cum all over Satoru’s pretty face. 

Hands moving your limp, boneless hips across his face, forcing you to ride out peak after peak on his red lips.

As the blood roaring in your ears bates, and you blink back your vision, the first thing you see are those familiar blue eyes gazing up at you. Holding you steady, lips brushing gentle kisses along your inner thighs. 

Oh, how beautiful he was like this.

“S-S’toru?” you mewl, still sensitive from your orgasm as Satoru shifts underneath you to sit you prettily in his lap.

“Mhm?” he nuzzles your neck.

“One more. It didn’t work.”

Oh, if you knew the only way to shut up Gojo Satoru was to say something like this then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. 

But Satoru’s stunned silence doesn’t last for long, because he grins, low and sultry, “You’re right. It didn’t work.”

The metallic clinking of a belt echoes in the stuffy chamber as Satoru hastily pushes down his pants. Cock springing free to hit his lower abs, “What a shame.”

You blink at the sheer size of him - he was going to split you in two. It was unfair, really. Water is wet. Gojo Satoru has a big dick. 

But oh was he pretty - so pretty.  Prominent veins glistening in the dim lighting, fat tip flushed your favorite shade of delicate pink, leaking furiously in between your thighs.

Gulping, you reach out to wrap your hand around his achingly hard cock. So warm and heavy in your hands. “Y-yeah, what a shame.”

Both of you watch - entranced - at the way he twitches in your grasp at the mere sound of your voice. A maddening little bump! bump! bump! against your palm as you begin pumping him slowly - so agonizingly slow. 

“Oh- Feel s’good, sweetheart.” Satoru hisses lowly as you swipe at the precum beading at this head. Thumbing teasingly under his sensitive slit, tracing delicately along his veins. 

And by God does it do something to you to see the great Gojo Satoru falling apart for you, hair tousled, lips kiss-bitten, and eyes looking at you like he wanted to positively eat you alive. It made your cunt throb so desperately, slick forming a dark wet patch on his trousers. 

Not one to be left behind, his long fingers deftly snake down to your dripping cunt. Not wasting any time before bullying his fingertips past your swollen folds, curling expertly to press down against that one spot that has your fist faltering on his cock. Hard. 

Pretty little moans left your lips at the way Satoru so easily matches your pace. Thrusting knuckle-deep into your pussy in and out - hitting that spot over and over.

“Shit, Toru- s’deep inside me. I’m- hngh-”

Satoru was in heaven, really. You were so warm and wet around both his fingers and his throbbing cock. 

Only two thoughts running through his mind right now - 1. He was right, your hands were softer and more sinfully delicious around his swollen cock. And 2. The hardest battle he’s ever fought was probably right now - at your mercy, trying not to spill all over your hands because he’d be damned if he finally scored the girl and came in two seconds.

Shit, he thinks fingers almost erratic now, he needs you to cum. Right now. 

As if sensing his urgency, your moves become more frantic, Satoru’s brows furrowing at the way you increase your pace. His hips twitch, as if trying to thrust into your fist. matching your pace as you start stroking him harder, faster. 

Ah, but alas, the great Gojo Satoru’s reputation precedes him. 

“Oh, fuck- M’gonna-” And soon enough, you’re seeing stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - as you cum. Hard. 

Body moving before your mind, you’re clenching around Satoru’s fingers, grinding down so ferally as you edge him closer and closer. “C’mon, Toru. One more, right?” you whisper brokenly, lips ghosting his ear.

Breath coming in short, strained gasps of what sounded like your name now, “Oh- fuck ngh- so close.” he warns, voice hoarse. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

You smirk, raising a brow, “Is that a threat, Satoru?”

Willing his fucked-out eyes open, they bore into yours as he utters, “No, ah- it’s a p-promise.”

Without warning, Satoru clasps your wrists, forcing you to stop pumping him. The disappointed mewl threatening to spill from your lips is cut off just as your back hits the ground.

Slam!

You think you could almost get whiplash from how swiftly Satoru had you caged and splayed out so shamefully beneath him. 

You whine, “But you didn’t even get to-”

“Fuck, not now. Gotta feel you or else m’gonna cum so embarrassingly all over your fist.” He rests his throbbing erection laid out so enticingly across your stomach, leaking hot precum onto your skin. And that makes you shut up, eyes mapping where it ended and realizing that yeah, you might’ve faced more mercy with the curses outside of this box. “Besides. One more, right?”

And before you can respond, Satoru’s spitting on you once. Twice. Thrice.

You flinch as the wads of saliva hit your dripping cunt, mixing with your slick so obscenely as Satoru smears it across your swollen folds. Your mouth drops into a soft oh! of disbelief as he promptly pops his thumb into his mouth, groaning at the taste. 

“Shit.” Satoru hisses lowly, “One more might just not be enough.”

Not wasting a moment longer, he’s bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your plush walls desperately try to accommodate his size.

“Oh. Oh shit hah- should’ve been locked up here ngh- sooner.” he groans, words straight from his cock. “Feel s’heavenly around m-me.” Because God Satoru thinks he wouldn’t even mind staying here for the rest of his life if it meant he got to have you like this.

You moan at the positively delicious stretch of your pussy, plush walls unable to decide between pushing him out and milking the soul out of him. “Hah- Toru s’too big. I can’t-” 

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed as he focuses on letting you adjust. Pressing inch by fucking inch. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he fights that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy till his tip kisses your cervix, and you’re drunk on nothing but his cock.

But he didn’t have to - because you’re immediately wrapping your legs around his toned waist, pulling Satoru to you recklessly until his heavy balls smack your ass. Tufts of snowy white hair - already so wet with your slick and his precum - finally meeting your cunt.

“Ah! Shit, s’full Toru.” you keen, body bowing into his.

There’s not even a hair's breadth between your bodies now as Satoru chuckles darkly. “You little minx. Thought you couldn’t handle me, but you really wanted to be split apart on my cock, huh?”

You feel almost shy under his gaze as you mumble out a quiet little, “Well you did say one more.”

Ah, Satoru thinks deliriously, if you aren’t Mrs. Gojo by the time you two get out of this then there’s seriously something wrong with him. 

But he doesn’t tell you that. Instead with a satisfied smirk, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, sucking your tongue so lewdly as he did with your cunt. Parting for only a second before pressing his lips to yours again. And again. And again, as if it hurt to part.

“Mhm. Always wanted to do this, sweetheart.” he hums against your pretty lips. “Fuck ever since you hah- walked in on that first day.” 

Kissing you sweetly with a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his hips as pulls back, back, back. All the way till his angry, hard tip was just grazing your sloppy entrance. “One more.”

Body moving before his mind, his hips start fucking into your dripping cunt recklessly. Satoru doesn’t fuck you with the finesse he imagined he would all these years, rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and all the desperation from these last few years.

In one, fluid movement, the burn of the stretch hits you before the realization that Satoru has thrown your legs over his sculpted shoulders. 

“Ah- So good, Toru. Oh my god- hah-” you mewl at the change in angle. His pulsing dick expertly hitting that one spot inside you which has your words slurring together, body arching off the floor to press so impossibly close against him. 

And, well, Satoru isn’t any better - because he’s slamming his cock into you mindlessly. Hitting that spot over and over. 

With one hand, he caresses your stomach. Whispering out a ragged, “Feel me inside? Feel me right…” Pressing his palm down hard, “Here.”

The other forces you to look up at him, drinking in your whines of “Yes yes yes, can feel you s-so deep hngh- inside me, Toru.” 

You’re so cockdrunk and full of Satoru that you barely notice the hands groping their way down your body. Catching harshly on your swollen clit, starting to draw, quick, frenzied circles that match the cadence of his hips smacking into yours. 

“Look at me.” he murmurs raspily, “Open your mouth.”

And you can do nothing but take it, tongue lolling out so lewdly for the warm stream of spit that hits it. Once. Twice. 

You look up at him with teary eyes, as you take it all -  anything and everything he was giving. And it makes Satoru bow his head with a fucked-out groan, cock twitching so animalistically as it keeps plunging inside you roughly. Deft fingers on your clit becoming more desperate.

Harder. Faster. Balls squeezing so painfully. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up - and you were going to let thim.

You squeal at the overstimulation, hips bucking up for more more more-

“God, sweetheart, you don’t know what you do to me.” he moans, voice strained with desire and the euphoria of getting everything he’s wanted for so long. It was driving him insane. “Now c’mon. One more. Give me one more like my good girl.”

“Hngh- yes- Toru!”

You don’t even know what “one more” means anymore - all you do know is that you’re cumming and cumming all around Satoru’s unforgiving cock. Walls fluttering so snugly, your body convulses as you cream around his cock. Nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back, Satoru’s name leaving your bruised lips and into the heady air like a prayer every time his tip kisses your cervix. His new favorite melody.

And that seems to be what makes him snap as well - because with a final, sloppy thrust, he’s painting your walls such a sinful white. Pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your quivering cunt. 

“Shit- yeah, my girl. Take it. Take it all f’me.” Satoru shudders above you, head thrown back, chest heaving as he fucks you through your high. Movements nothing more than shallow, mindless little thrusts to get you both off so animalistically. 

It was so fucking filthy - and exactly what you needed so badly. He was exactly what you needed so badly. 

Now, Satoru only had to take one look as you use him so obscenely for your pleasure - eyes dazed, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth - before he thinks he might just cum again. And again. And again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

But first…

Pulling out of your heavenly pussy with a lewd pop! His long fingers delicately collects the mixture of slick and cum now gushing out of you obscenely. 

Aw, what a waste, Satoru muses as it pools below you sinfully. If it was up to him he wouldn’t waste a single drop from your pretty cunt. 

But no matter. 

Abruptly, Satoru bullies two fingers into your mouth - forcing you to taste yourself, to taste him. Pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and gagging around him, teary eyes just begging up at him. Perfect - you were so perfect for him. 

Kissing your forehead with a tenderness that doesn’t match his actions, he hums, faux innocence lacing his words, “What a shame, the box didn’t open yet.”

And oh does he love the excitement lighting up your exhausted eyes. Pretty thighs twitching underneath him as a slow, fucked-out little smile curls your lips. 

“One more? Please?”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[marsgalaxias]

I lead a very interesting and eventful life, and frequently my friends have joked I live in a sitcom, and I honestly don't think I've done anything other than take advantage of my opportunities. my mindset can pretty much be summed up as, "nothing matters, but everything matters, and nothing changes, but everything changes!" like it's literally just about putting things in perspective for your happiness. you do you, bro.

[pseudowho]

Motherhood had altered your 'turn-ons'; not that you lusted after mankind as a whole-- Kento was enough.

His cologne, split with the smooth tang of sweat on work-ripened skin. His hands, alternately gentle and rough, peach-handling or blade-wielding. The authority only the world saw; the authority only you felt.

Dressed-up, dressed-down, undressed, dressing you down, undressing you. Breaking you only to reform you with gold, tied with red thread, whispering you to completion in the dark sacred night.

So (you corrected yourself, as you watched Kento jog after your daughter at the indoor play centre) motherhood had not altered your turn-ons; it had added to them. Stacking high now, you considered the tower of your adoration was just as likely to be stable, as unstable; its endurance or toppling entirely at Kento's mercy.

The arrival at soft-play was a sensory nightmare-- one of many you could tolerate as a mother when you wouldn't have, before.

Obnoxious children's music blared, cut by screams and shouts and cries and calls and whirls and swirls of kids darting and weaving, watched and unwatched, by helicopters or the disinterested. The cocktail was potent, spiked. Your headache started behind your left eye.

Kento saw you. He was unfairly loaded at his own insistence, with change-bag and snack-bag and car keys and your daughter, planking and chattering, a possessed surfboard beneath his arm.

"Sit down-- have a coffee." Kento rumbled, low and slow, unclipping his watch into your cupped hands as you began to argue. "You've had her all week. You need a break."

"You've been at work all week, Kento, you need a break--"

"Don't argue. You know it's not the same. Sit down. Have a coffee."

He lied to you for your benefit; you could feel the bone-deep weariness of him, surely needing a day of sofa-bound naps over a day of childrearing. Alas; parenthood. And he would continue to take bullets for you, even to his own detriment. You knew this. You had planned ahead for this.

As you peered down at your phone, smiling at an eagerly awaited reply, your daughter piped up, bouncing on little toes, her pigtails bouncing too.

"'lide, daddy. Let's go fast. Faster. Race you."

Kento hummed, smiling. "Slide, you mean?"

"I said it. 'lide." Your daughter moved to dart to the towering play area, a flash of lightning into a maelstrom, and you caught her. Kento was distracted, looking into the swarm of other peoples' children, oddly, as he looked at a swarm of Curses. You whispered into your daughters' ear as Kento slipped his boots off.

"Hey, missus, listen."

Your baby girl perked up, sweet and conspiratorial, goofy-teethed and dimple-cheeked, whispering back.

"What is it, mummy?"

"I've got a surprise for daddy. So don't tell him...come here, mummy needs to whisper."

Lips at an ear; tiny hands clasping over a mouth, fizzlepopping with excitement. A long finger against lips; a little finger against lips. A secret pact.

"Are you ready, young lady? I'll get you in three...two..."

Kento reached down for your daughter, his hands clawed, a wolfish grin on his lips. Your daughter knew what it meant; she shrieked with panicked laughter, bolting. The monster formerly known as 'Daddy' dashed after her.

The coffee was shit; you didn't mind, instead hyperfocused on how Kento and your daughter would dip out of sight into the rainbow maze, only to reappear minutes later, with Kento looking more ravaged each time.

On the first loop round, Kento looked unfazed, unruffled, still clipped in his t-shirt and jeans. You simply admired the sultry half-smile he offered you, and the cling of fabric to his thick biceps, before he swept after your daughter again.

On the fifth loop round, flicks of hair escaped over Kento's forehead, the veins on his arms prominent from throwing and tumbling and monstering. He panted, his muscle so much heavier to carry than your birdlike daughter's personal load. Kento's playful growl, running after your giggling daughter, was deeper; huskier. You squirmed, sipping your shit latte.

On the eleventh loop round, a fine sheen of sweat misted Kento's forehead, a flush dashed on high cheekbones. His broad chest heaved, and he stretched his arms back, cracking his neck from side-to-side, with a groan usually heard only when he exerted himself above you, for less wholesome pleasures.

With furrowed brows, Kento prowled the bottom of the slide, and your daughter shrieked, scrabbling to get away from him as he lunged. Your daughter was bicep-curled up to Kento's face, laughing uproariously at his ferocious tummy-raspberries, before being set free, once more, for the hunt. You could not cope, aching, desperately hoping you had the energy left to sweat for him at the end of the day.

By the twenty-first? twenty-third? twenty-fifth? loop round, Kento jogged to a heavy halt, his shoulder blades taut as he bent double, hands braced against his own knees. You heard him panting, cursing under his breath, one long rusty groan. It was all too much-- Kento needed a break. You were unhinged and unsupervised. Surely there had to be some relief--

"Yo, Mrs.Nanamin! Am I late?"

A vision in peach, Yuuji flopped into the chair opposite you, with hands in his pockets and man-spread with a square-jawed, boyish grin. He stood taller than Kento, now, a full-grown man...but still shrunk beneath Kento's chastisement and lectures.

"Right on time, Yuuji. Are you sure you don't mind? It's all a bit..." You looked into the raucous soft-play, searching for words, "...feral."

Yuuji beamed, ruffling his own hair and kicking his shoes off. "Nah. I was gonna go to the gym anyway, but this seems more fun as workouts go."

You called out to your daughter as she reached the bottom of the slide, and Kento looked up, sweating and exhausted. "Baby! Your big brother's here!"

A gasp of thrill from your daughter, and Kento was all but forgotten by her as she pelted towards Yuuji instead, leaping into his arms. She slapped his scrunched cheeks, aggressively overjoyed.

"Big brother-- big brother-- big brother--"

"Yeah yeah, little sister, little sister-- c'mon squirt, I'm gonna getcha! Hey-- Dad--- uh, Nanamin! Gotta go!"

Kento watched his children run away with dewy eyes, his body still thickened by exercise and heavy breaths. You bit your lip as Kento approached, eyes half-lidded as you drank him in. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he gulped back water and gasped, husky with relief.

"God, I love that boy." Kento rumbled.

You melted to see Yuuji reach the bottom of the slide with your daughter on his lap. "Yeah...me too."

"He's saved my life...three times, now."

You laughed, your eyes dipped, tugging Kento to you by the hem of his t-shirt and beckoning him down with one curled finger.

"Think you'll still have some energy later?" You whispered, your breaths mingling with promise.

Kento's eyes narrowed, glimmering, his nose kissing yours. "For that? Always."

[ddejavvu]

would you be up to do bff remus with no boundaries?? i think that would be an interesting dynamic

maybe like after a full moon and she just like fully gives him a shower, or something where he’s just completely naked and the boys are so confused at what’s happening

"Arm up, Rem," You hum, but your fingers pry at his pale, scarred skin before he can even begin moving a muscle.

You lift his bicep away from his side, bringing the lathered loofa in your hand to swipe through the curve of his armpit. Suds slide down his sides and you hear him hiss as they mingle with his still-healing cuts and scrapes, but there's nothing to be done except cleaning them before they can be dressed.

"Easy, easy," You rub a hand over his back in a soothing circle that carefully avoids his injuries, "Just gotta get 'em clean, then we can dress them. You can sleep on your stomach, that'll help the ones on your back. How'd you even get scratches on your back?"

"It's all the ladies I occupy my time with," Remus drawls, but his pain is evident in the weakness of his voice, "Women love werewolves."

When you don't answer, leaving an purposefully awkward silence behind that swirls with the steam from the shower, Remus sighs, "Got all scratched up from the tree branches out there."

You drag the loofa from his side to his back, carefully ghosting over the caked dirt around his wounds. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists, but when he tries drawing one into his mouth to bite at it you take it in your own free hand.

"No biting. That's reserved for your better half."

"Are you talking about Sirius, or the wolf? Sirius bites me," Remus grumbles, and- speak of the devil, there's feet pounding obnoxiously up the stairs and towards the dorms.

"Moony, we've got all the chocolate we could carry," Sirius informs him, and there's the sound of wrapped goods being piled on Remus's comforter before James and Sirius step into the doorway of the bathroom.

James lets out an 'ooh' and turns away with a grimace when he sees you kneeled beside Remus's naked form beneath the spray of water, but Sirius stands stock-still, frozen by some mix of intrigue and horror.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?"

"Just a bath," You smile kindly at them, scrubbing gently at Remus's neck, "He has trouble getting his back sometimes."

"Sometimes- have you two done this before?"

"After every moon." You nod helpfully when Remus merely ducks his head to rest between his knees, "You two are usually either asleep or trying to get grass out of your pelts."

There's something green in Sirius's hair that proves the two were unsuccessful this time around.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Moony, I didn't know you had a caregiver," Sirius snickers, "Does she help you put your panties on too?"

"Don't let him get to you, dove," Remus murmurs, his eyes slipping shut as the warm water seeps into his skin and heals an ancient ache in his bones, "He's just mad he'll never get to take yours off. They're a real pretty pattern, y'know," Remus glances up at Sirius with the ghost of a smirk on his face, muffled by pain but persistent all the same, "Shame she's not interested in showing 'em to you."

"You've seen her panties, mate?" James cuts in, peering over Sirius's shoulder, "What are you two?"

"Friends," You shrug, "But it's stuffy in here at night, and my sleeping pants get too warm."

"You're telling me all the times you two have slept over in here all snuggled up in his bed, that you've not had any pants on?"

"Well I don't make it a habit to strip in his bed," You scoff, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn grass stain on the pale plane of his hip, "But I can promise you that my pants are never gonna be on your floor, either one of you."

"Oh please, we wouldn't dream of stealing Moony's girl," Sirius claps James on the shoulder, "But whaddya think about that, mate? Strippin' down to cuddle in bed together? They seem to think it's a friendly endeavor."

"I typically only ditch my pants for Lily, Padfoot," James informs Sirius with a sympathetic smile, "But I'll ask her if I can bring my dog to her dorm tomorrow night. You can sleep at our feet."

Sirius begins valiantly arguing for a spot higher up on the bed, every dog's hardest battle to fight, but you're no longer interested in their antics or the noise they're producing. You reach out your foot to kick at the door, and it swings shut with a satisfying click.

"Thanks, love." Remus groans, his face squished between his knees, "They were givin' me a headache."

"They always give you a headache," You dig your thumbs into a tense spot on his back and he twitches beneath you with a hum of appreciation, "We should get a flat together without them. They can be the feral deer and dog that live outside our cottage."

"We'll have to call animal control" Remus grins wryly against the rounded bend of his knee as you lean forwards to wash beneath his thighs, "How strong are their strongest tranquilizer darts?"

[screampied]

can u pleasee do jjk mens fav positions ? or have u already done that

‘ CARTWHEEL ON THE D!CK ☆ ! ’

starring ꒱ geto, gojo, shiu, hiromi, choso, sukuna, toji ?!

@WARNINGS. fem! reader, praise, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, full nelson, missionary, (rev) + cowgirl, prone bone, size kinks, overstim, tummy bulge, face riding, impact play, shotgunning, squirting, till the bed breaks 18+

TOJI ✰ DOGGYSTYLE

“down, girl.”

with the pitch of his tone— that was how easy it was for him to have you arched over, bent over his wooden desk. your pussy was still sopping from earlier, needing a moment to get over your most recent teeth-shattering orgasm. toji prefers missionary too but he mainly loves doggystyle just so he could peer a few peeks at your ass. so cute, he smears his swollen tip against your saturated entrance before groaning. sloshes of cries die out from your folds as he’s ogling at how you’re so eager to swallow him up. leisurely, his fat, throbbing tip makes its way into you and he yanks the back of your tank top. “tojiiii, ‘s not gonna fit again,” you gasp, a broad free hand of his grabs a good chunk of your ass before spanking it. you moan from the sting, the pulse it gifts between your legs couldn’t have been any more embarrassing. “so f-fuckin’ big.”

“say that everytime ‘n ya still take it like a good slut,” he growls, feeling a hot sensation burn near the tips of his ears. you’re so feverish inside, he bites his lip before shoving you further against the desk. one single thrust and your life flashes before your eyes. his cock metaphorically splits the inside of your cunt open, having your lips pry apart and you hear that sinister snicker of his from behind you. “ugh. gotta be careful with you though. with a pussy this wet, might fall in love, heh.”

toji’s speed was always simply relentless—your chest would continuously thwack against the furniture, bump after bump occurring. it’s so loud, his dick pivots and reaches so deep, it rummages through every single orifice and you repeat your whines for him again and again.

“f-fuuuck, toji,” you’d babble out, the same words spewing out your lips on a constant never-ending loop like a mantra. full balls of his occasionally tap against you. with your legs parted, you’re all sprawled open for him. toji knew the layout of your pussy— he had to. with a sharp piston of his hips, his thrusts start to become more vigorous. you could barely match let alone keep up with his pace.

with doggystyle, toji was simply animalistic,

one of his favorite things to do was to wrap his thick fingers around your throat, putting his face up close to yours. “awww, babygirl. ‘s too deep? want me to go slower for you, baby? i can go slow for the pretty girl.”

he’s teasing you—pitching his voice in that faux caring tone, he drags his tongue against your neck and you whine, whimpering out a, “f-faster, fuck me faster, ‘toj.”

“well excuse me. then shut up ‘n take this dick,” and his words punctuate through every part of his dialogue. rough emphasis on his sentences—you gasp, feeling the crown of his cock prof against your g-spot. a scratch through your brain surges and you were already stupid. “take it like it’s yours,” he gruffs, his voice lowering a bit. your gummy walls squeeze against him tightly and it makes him suck his teeth. so soft, fleshy mounds of your ass gets grabbed by the rough hands of toji. throughout each spank he gives you, it rings in your ears like wedding bells. it only encourages you to fuck back against him quicker, making haste. “yeah, fuck me back. take this dick like ya own it.”

you’re hitting back and forth against him, feeling the way toji steadily pries open your pussy with the fat, plump head of his dick. he grunts, pushing your head back down into the sheeny polished desk until it’s smushed against the plethora of scattered papers. “t- toji, right there, right there please.”

“i know the fuck where,” he snarls, feeling his thin nostrils flare— it makes him a bit vexed with how easily your cunt takes him. swallowing him up, he can’t help but stare at how well you’re taking his mean backshots from behind. a big hand of his is still yanking onto the very back fabrics of your tank top before he quite literally tears it into two. “oop. my bad,” he snickers, hearing a cute gasp come out of you. he’s still balls deep before you whine.

“toji, my shirt !”

“yeah, what about it.”

you frown, he’s still deep into churning your guts before you speak with each moan butchering the delivery of your voice. “what do you mean what about it, that was a gift!”

“girl, chillax. i’ll get ya a new one.”

he doesn’t.

GOJO ✰ PRONE BONE.

“shh, you don’t gotta talk when you’re bent over for me, angel,” he’d hush you, and he brings a thumb near your puckering hole to daub the remnants of his sticky, glutinous cum back into you, preventing it from spilling back out again.

you whine, feeling every deep thrust he presents you. he’d just gotten done with filling you up to the brim—yet he doesn’t stop, he’s hungry for more. a hand goes over your mouth, a lustrous sheet of your own slobber paints the palm of his hand in response and he hums. gojo favors prone bone because he likes the closeness of your body against his.

it’s like doggystyle but better,

with your sundress lazily pulled up, he’s got better access and your tummy continually caves in. gojo’s so lengthy, you were still surprised he’d even manage to fit. it was a tight fit but he managed, plugging up your sweetened aperture. warm breathy pants fan against your skin and you whine, his hefty base repeatedly trouncing against your cunt. he was so up close to you, his weight pressing into you so deep that you’re at a loss of words. “s—satoru,” you whimper, feeling his tip stimulate against your most tender spots. each breath you had became more shaky, you were already pumped full of ropy, viscid amounts of his cum from before. your words were a bit muffled but he could still make out your adorable mewls. “so f-full.”

“well yeah. wouldn’t want ya to be empty,” he fake frowns, giving your ass an abrupt spank.

you bite back a moan by sucking your teeth, feeling his shaft reach even deeper angles. he’s got your pussy opening over and over, you’re drooling by this point, being met with slow yet deep hits. it’s primal for a few seconds once he pulls out - only to pull back in, then out again. you start to babble, hating whenever he did that.

gojo was a menace, he wanted to make you beg for more—you feel a fervor wash over you before your maw dangles open. the moment he pulls his dick out, he stares in awe at the thick volumes of cum exuding out of your flooded entrance. “oh, look at thaaaaat,” he sings lowly, staring at the mess painted between your thighs. he’s got the smuggest grin, watching such satiny ropes dribble down your slit. “my my, she’s just so pretty! look at how full she gets too, fuckin’ sloppy.”

“f-finish fucking me, ‘toru,” you pant in heavy breaths, already missing the fullness his dick supplied.

still, you’re over here arched over like some slut. a few cold whiffs of air wafts against your skin and you moan. you hear him sneer out a, ‘awww,’ before he brings his leaky tip back toward your swollen folds. it was so messy, unkempt and shimmering with his seed. gojo grows quiet, smearing his fat reddened tip against your pussy to hear the wet sloshes it creates. “pleaseeee, finish f-fuckin’ me.”

“say pretty please,” he coos, purposely sinking just the fattened tip inside before wresting it back out. he does it over and over, imagining your cute little pout displayed on your face from frustration.

you whine out a sweet, “p-pretty please?”

“pretty please what?” he whispers, strumming a thumb against your throbbing clit. he was edging you, your whines—despite them falling onto deaf ears, you whine again. gojo simpers, trailing a hand down your sensitive spine. “c’monnn. i have no idea what you’re saying please for, angel. you could be saying ‘pretty please can i finish?’ or ‘pretty please can i—”

“pretty please finish f-fucking m-” you grumble, although it sounds more like a desperate moan. even your words backfired on you, he found it so cute how you tried to maintain a rough exterior with your voice but end up failing miserably. you wanted him to finish so bad that you start to swiftly grind against him with your ass still raised up. he loves hearing you like that, so whiny and needy for more—yet once you were about to whine out another needy plea, you hear a sudden snap.

instantaneously, your initial reaction was to flinch and as you peek up—you spot the the wooden headboard snapping in half, the box spring shortly following to collapse. gojo’s still buried balls deep and he doesn’t even realize. only then does he start drilling his fat cock into you at a much quicker pace and you gasp, bawling the sheets into your hand. “s-satoru, fuck fuuuck.”

“oh damn the bed broke,” he sighs, barely acknowledging your moans—you’re so close to your release, feeling the sharp stabbing twist of his hips and he makes you fuck right back into him again and again. with a hand sneaking its way to tug at your hair, he leans up close to your ear before purring low. “hm. that sucks,” and as his hefty cock jackhammers into your loose cunt for the nth time today, he cheeses. “but uh, you’ll buy me- i mean us a new one right? riiiight?”

GETO ✰ REVERSE COWGIRL.

he loves whenever you ride him in reverse—your ass just throwing back against him, it drives him crazy.

with strong, ripped arms wrapped around your waist, a breathy pant leaves his lips and he‘s panting, his mind's racing and racing as he’s awaiting for your finish to peacefully come.

geto groans, you’re taking in every inch of his fat cock, you grow dumb quickly and your brain starts to spiral within seconds. “f-fuck, more. throw that ass back against me harder, wanna feel you.”

geto’s smooth words couldn’t have been any more seductive against your ear. big hands of his drag towards your tummy, his touch sending you shivers constantly before you moan. you’re jerking back against him with your mouth pried open, dilated irises glancing at your pathetic reflection of the mirror that stood in front of you both. “s-suguuu,” you moan, leaning back until your back presses against his bare chest. his warmth makes the butterflies in your tummy whir around at such a speed,

everything about your body was just enticing.

the way you just grip around him drove him wild. steadily holding his dick hostage with your saturated, gummy walls — it drives geto to the first street of erotic insanity. he’s haphazardly buried balls deep, the jaggy smacks that go up and down all due to your sweet hips makes him go mad. lengthy musses of black strands gets caught in his face and he gnaws on his bottom lip. a mucilaginous white ring that coats around his full base sticks against your skin the more your movements rises its tempo.

he’s panting right with you, hot puffy breaths of air leaving each lips, he wraps a hand around your throat before tenderly skimming his thumb down your passageway. making you almost twist your head to stare at him, he whispers, “easy. don’t cum on me yet, gorgeous. can ya wait jus’ a little to be messy for me?”

you frown a bit, pretty spit-glossed lips pursing together into a sweet pout before you whine once he reaches a pivotal certain spot. sage-colored boxers of his was lazily pulled down near his perfectly sculpted pelvic bone—even that was unintentionally sexy, all for a good fuck.

“but— but i can’ttt,” you whimper, feeling the familiar juddering sensation mash all into you.

“wait for me,” he whispers, a hand rubbing against your tummy. you pause your stuttering hips, leaning back into his touch. geto attacks the entirety of your neck with sugared kisses. he’s so tender, you gasp once he feels against the outline of his bulge. “mhm. you feel me here, don’t you pretty? ‘m so deep in you, fuck.”

your pussy’s voluntarily tightening before easing up and you let off soft mewl. “suguru, don’t stop,” and your plea was so sweet. he holds your hips firmly in place before pecking a honeyed kiss near your nape. with how lewd the angle was, you made sure your knees were planted forward as you slouched all the way back. he stuffed your walls so full despite how you brought your eager hips to a saddened halt. his girth wears you thin, you moan once he then brings two hands to squeeze against your tits. so handsy, a finger of his swipes against your perked nipple and you whine. “wanna finish riding you, sugu please.”

“my love, you’re going to. don’t be such a baby,” and that’s only once he turns you around—you inhale a single breath, meeting his pretty face and he pulls you into a deep kiss. geto’s kisses always tasted to candied, so honeyed with nothing but love and affection.

“oh, but i love you,” he says between kisses, leaving your face with multiple targets. he watches your expression turn shy, even leaning in to kiss the soft bridge of your nose. “mwah,” he concludes in a weary breath, holding onto your hips again. you hover over his tip and he grunts, knowing you wanted to ride him again. “always know how to- make me fall more ‘n more in love with you. messy girl,” and a dimple pokes against his cheek once he lies back. “my good messy girl.”

SHIU ✰ COWGIRL.

“ah ah, let me finish my cigarette first,” shiu would hum in a soft low tone, watching you hover over his exposed tip.

he was shirtless—dark cerulean blue boxers pulled all the way down by you and a lit cig sticks out from the left part of his mouth. he shoots you a sly smile, watching the pout on your lips grow as you didn’t wanna wait for him. you needed him carnally, he flashes you a similar coy grin before wrapping an arm around you. “fine. you never listen. i spoil ya too bad, sweets.”

“shiu, want more,” you’d whisper, and he groans once he feels you align himself against your needy hole. you felt the head of his cock scrape against your entrance—a few spurts of pre-cum coat against your folds so slickly. a hitched breath gets caught in his throat before he leans back, manspread. “wanna smoke with you.”

“hm,” he hums in a more form of a question. he’s got quite the length to him. he grunts, feeling the squelches your cunt makes in retaliation. the entire scenery of it all was so crude, he’s amused. with that cute expression of yours, he wants to buy you anything in the world. shiu rubs a hand down your back, easing you to take him fully before you moan at the stretch. “you wanna smoke too, darlin’? ‘s that what y’er tellin’ me?”

“y-yes,” you whimper in a cute plea, rocking your hips once he’s all the way in. he fit perfectly—nice and snug like a key fits a lock.

shiu had such dangerous girth to him too, your mouth desperately opens as you feel every inch. you even feel a slight upward curve he had, something as small as that made you throb—even the vein that runs down the center of his dick, you felt the twitch inside of you. he raises a brow, hazy eyes focusing on your every move. your moves were always so slow it was simply hypnotic. leaning up close, you press a wet kiss near the corner of his mouth. “kiss me.”

“now you’re just gettin’ greedy, baby,” he purrs, inhaling a single puff of hot smoke again. you watch with dilated hearty eyed pupils, and he cups your chin. “very well, open that mouth f’me.”

glossy lips of yours part, he pulls you in for a sultry wet kiss but before he does that, he blows the smoke that was in his mouth right into yours. you whine, bottom lip quivering as it pours right in so easily. the taste was smoky, despite it being literal air, you could still taste it.

shiu’s got half-lidded eyes staring at you, a smirk curling on his lips before he finally gives you that kiss you direly craved. it was deep, you’re still slowly hurtling your hips before he brings two hands to fondle with your neglected breasts. you mewl into his mouth, tasting the lingering flavor of smoke and a dash of mint. his tongue curls against yours, flicking his cigarette away onto the ash tray before pulling you closer. he tastes so intoxicating, a hand squeezes your ass firmly before he groans—you being jittery against his hips has his head spinning.

“s-shit,” shiu phews, globules of sweat racing down the sides of his face. with an almost flustered, out of breath look, he speaks in a soft tone. “you .. you want more, don’t ya sweets? guess y’er not finished with me after all, huh?”

“lie back, shiu,” you breathe in short breaths, softly pressing the clammy palms of your hands onto his bare chest. bristles of curled chest hair prick against your skin before he leans further back, slyly smiling at your sudden dominance. he watches as you pick up his thin cig, sticking it between your own teeth as your hips roll against him in mirroring unison.

“yes ma’am,” he smiles, a hand gripping onto your ass before giving it another spank. “do whatever ya want to me, sweets. ‘m all yours.”

SUKUNA ✰ FULL NELSON.

with full nelson—more than anything, sukuna likes to leave his favorite girl feeling stretched.

so stretched to where you can feel him reach the very deep pits of your cunt. he leaves you with ropes of his cum oozing out of you, he can’t help it — especially with a size he has. a thick shaft with staggering inches, every time he pumps another load into you, you’re drooling for more.

“oh, you’re so weak today,” he huffs out in a single breath, watching your lifeless body just dangle against his lap.

your legs were held above your head and within minutes, pretty eyes of yours were on the verge of rolling way back toward depths of your skull to see only splotches of pure black. you’re a whiny mess, barely able to synchronize with his rigorous pace. his front forearms has your legs in place, another is strumming the calloused tips of his fingers against your jittery hips. he’s so deep that you can feel the bulge of his dick extend through your tummy. a hand of his grabs your chin, pulling down on your bottom lip. “my, i’ve got such a such a sloppy girl,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your lips that was glistening with sweet spit. “with an even sloppier pussy.” and a hand of his reaches down to spank against your folds. you whine, feeling your entire body heat up from something as simple from his notorious touch.

“su— sukunaaaa,” you’d whine, basically being treated like a rag doll. a perfect way to capture your physical essence. just being thrown around, he punctures everywhere inside of your goopy walls, making his cock get known between your heat. your moans only grow louder until he shoves two fingers into your mouth. fluttering lashes lower before you happily suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue against his digits and he cackles. “mphmmm.”

“good girl, suck on them. use that little mouth for somethin’ more important,” and with each bounce of your hips, your brows furrow in pleasure. a jumbled of nerves that rest inside your stomach continues to build up—you know that particular feeling approaching and it was pure bliss. a brief twinge of a sting resides near your entrance as he hits against a spot that leaves your eyes widening. he found your secluded g-spot. a hand of yours squeezes onto the curses’s thigh and he hums in amusement. “oh, i found that little spot didn’t i, pretty?” and his pace quickens ever so slightly, hefty dick slamming into you time and time again. “this— pathetic spot . . riiiiight fuckin’ here?”

his breath was hot, all up against the soft lobe of your ear. with his deep voice alone, you’d cream all over his cock without any sorts of shame. jocularly, sukuna seeps his fangs into your neck, a low guffaw following from the back of his throat. you sucked on his fingers until you gag as response. you then pout as he pulls them out, stringy webs of saliva following his two digits.

“i-i’m gonna cu—” and your words get interrupted by the goading prod of his cock thrashing against that same spot. your mouth grows ajar and a sweet raw moan exits from your lips. you’re so at disbelief that you end up gushing all on his lap yet he doesn’t even notice you squirted until you look down.

“hmph,” sukuna scoffs, one of his arms reaching down between your legs. he smears his stubby thumb against your entrance, feeling how doused it was with your slick arousal. taking you out of the flexing minacious position, he turns you to face him now. prodding a thumb between your now swollen folds, he delves a finger inside before pulling it out, only to pop the same finger into his mouth. you watch, tremulous breaths leaving your mouth and he smugly smiles, taking pride in your embarrassed state.

“how sweet,” and as he laps up the mess on his fingers on his own tongue, he grabs your chin again, pulling you into a kiss. you whine, returning the gesture almost immediately. you’re needy still, grinding against the king’s lap—his dick that was laid against him flat, so thick and even more full. he snickers between the kisses, holding you close and you taste yourself on his mouth. after a while, he departs away before grumbling. “off. you made a mess on me, woman,” and he crosses his arms, a pout on his lips. “don’t just sit there. clean it off with your tongue, i’ll wait.”

HIGURUMA ✰ FACE RIDING

“a-ah,” he lets off a soft sigh, bringing a few kisses towards your inner thighs. you bring up you want to ride his nose and after that moment, it easily becomes his favorite position. he’s gentle, making sure to attack near the very sweet crevices with his lips. with an amused, jocular raise of a brow, he runs a thumb down your sopping wet slit. “aw, you wanna ride it, dontcha? you’ve been starin’ at my nose all day, sugar.”

with a twitch of your lips, you shift your weight that’s barely hovering over his mouth. “yes,” and hiromi’s got nothing more than tender smile— he knew what you wanted, ride his face but most importantly, ride his nose. “i just— i don’t wanna suffocate you with my thighs though, ‘romi. want you to be able to breathe.”

he ambushes your folds with a multitude of kisses before a sly grin forms against his pink sheeny lips. “you won’t do such a thing,” he reassures you, and you whine once he creates a single licking stripe near your entrance. “there there, just lay it on me, sweetheart,” and his voice couldn’t have been any more soothing— it’s alluring, each syllable that drags out of his mouth has you pulsing continuously. dark irises stare into you before he blows softly against your cunt. “give it to me, sit on my face ‘n enjoy the ride. i got ya.”

higuruma’s all laid back comfortably against the bed—he’s ready to feast, the moment you finally sink your quavering weight down onto him, his tongue makes a quick greeting. you bite your lip, the cold texture residing on his tongue makes you squirm a bit. “f-fuuuck, hiromi,” you whine, peering your eyes down and his hooded lids were already growing low and heavy. two rough hands of his grasp tightly against your ass, occasionally brushing his thumbs against your warm skin. his movements were slow but precise—he makes sure to allow his tongue to rummage all throughout your pussy. just a single taste and he’s already craving for more.

you’re addictive,

as you’re still trying to flutter your hips over his mouth but he only pulls you further down. you moan, feeling the slickness of your cunt rub against his nose. it slides against the bumpy bridge of it and he groans. with rough pants, he breaks away every few seconds to give you a praise or two, “thaaaat’s it, ride it jus’ like that, sugar.”

he had to multitask from breathing through his mouth and nose—you had him going feral, his tongue knew no bounds. it swirls all through your entrance before he starts to suck against the pulsating nub of your clit. that particular spot does something to your brain. higuruma studies your moments—every jolt your thighs does he watches, how sensitive, how needy you were. all from a few licks, the feeling of his nose prodding against your cunt was a soft gnarled texture. it tickles a bit at first before you’re left with moaning repeatedly. “hngh, so good, ‘romi. don’t stop p-please.”

he shoots you a sneer, a thumb of his snaking towards your clit to play with it also. the nerves you felt in every part of your clit makes you stupid. perspiring hands crawl into his hair, getting a good grip of his strands being lightly tugging on it. “m-mphm,” he likes that. whenever you’d give his hair just the slightest pull, it drives him crazy. you resume to grind your hips into his mouth, slowly. your rhythm despite how it wasn’t as fast as he initially wanted has him hard. higuruma feels the strain in his black work slacks the more your sweet whimpers reverberate across the entire room. the walls were quite thinx yet he could care less. if anything, the only thing that mattered between was your preciously candied pussy. his favorite treat—a dish he’d continue to ask for seconds.

strands of his hair tangle within your fingers, the vigorous buckling of your hips barely have hi time to process. he’s so sloppy, the slight curve of his tongue explores all inside the entrance of your saturated entrance and a whine dies out your throat. “m-mh, more ‘romi. your tongue’s so good,” and your voice remains to shake—you were sensitive, not before long the entire middle part of his face was covered with a sheet of your arousal. so soaked—you couldn’t help but drench him a bit, his stubble becomes glistening in your heat and he moans. you taste sweet, with low eyes he makes eye contact with you for a moment and the butterflies that reside inside your tummy makes you pulse. he feels the pulse in his mouth, stimulating every part with the tip of his tongue. he lays it flat, allowing it to ferret everywhere before he reaches there.

that sweetened g-spot—the moment his tongue shows itself towards your most precious slick orifice, he leaves it a few sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, long black lashes close as he shows your spot the utmost signs of affection. after all, he wanted to make sure he tasted all of you.

CHOSO ✰ MISSIONARY.

“don’t hide, please,” choso whispers, rutting between you. two big hands of his strokes your cheek, making sure you return his beatific gaze. dark gentle pools of eyes intake your alluring beauty before he moans into your neck. “you’re so w-warm. i love you, love makin’ you feel good.”

“i love you too,” you breathe, moaning quite a bit yourself. your voice was sweet, laced with some kind of addictive sound that makes his ears twitch whenever you speak. choso loves missionary because of how intimate it is. skin to skin, body to body—he loves the hot warmth your own body provides him every time. he’s way more vocal than you, he can’t help but suck against your skin as he’s stuffing you full of guiltless inches. “fuck,” you’d wheeze, rubbing the back of your ankle down his back. you feel him shiver at that, his face turns flustered before he reaches to hold your hand. in bed, choso was always a needy baby. he desperately wanted your touch, without it he felt like he’d die. perhaps he was a bit of a drama queen whenever it came to affection, but he was your drama queen. “choso, don’t stop your moans, baby.”

he grows quiet once you notice. the main reason he went to suck against your tender neck was to stop his whimpering whines.

he was always so embarrassed about them—so insecure.

he was forever so sensitive, the way you clamp down on him makes his breath nearly get caught in his throat. “but-” and you shyly smile, squeezing his hand tighter as his hips quicken. he’s about to finish early—you were quite familiar with his timid body language. it always gave him away. you pull him in for a quick chaste kiss, crimson lips of his mashing against yours and he pouts. once you pull away, he wants more. choso leans for a kiss and you kiss back, kiss after kiss. he feels the tip of his cock reach all sorts of mew depths within your walls. he’s clouded, feeling a rushing wave of crazed nirvana over take him sweetly. “i’m too noisy.”

“i like when you’re noisy,” you reassure him, and you visibly watch him melt into your hands. he’s so cute—you’ve got his heart throbbing, you’re so tender and patient with him that he’s falling more and more in love. choso’s tempo slows down a bit and he feels a concise spasm in the undersides of his thighs. he moans at your tenderized compliment, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

he’s still holding onto your hand, stubby fingertips sliding against yours. his touch—a perfect way to describe it was that it was hot, parching. you made him feel hot in every way and he never wanted the feeling to stop. “you can be a little louder, ‘cho. ‘s just you ‘n me.”

“you s-sure?” he whines, mending your cunt with a new shape from his jagged thrusts. he was so big, you had to constantly gnaw on your lip to conceal your own indecent noises. with a low voice, he still sounds as sweet as a kitten—his darkened brows twitch, awaiting for your answer whilst he prepares to gift your pussy with another precious gift of cum.

you have a soft smile. “i’m sure, baby,” and with a smeck, you kiss the pale temple of his cheek. choso’s heart was racing miles a minute. the moment he ends up finishing, he doesn’t hide his moans.

this time, he ends up giving you a deep kiss while his orgasm mercilessly pulls out of him. it leaves him breathless, tumefy lips of his gets swollen from each contact your own lips makes with his. he was always weak for your kisses, he’d go crazy without one.

“good boy,” you whisper, feeling his seed trickle all inside of you. hot sticky ropes, your legs snake around his slim waist, forevermore pulling him in. “let’s stay like this forever.”

“we- we will,” he mewls out, a gasp of exhaustion snatching out of him, he’s just on top of you, resting his head against your chest — still inside of you, plugging you in fully. choso’s voice was a bit raspy, strands of his hair tickle against your skin before he kisses your breasts. “i’ll never leave you. we’ll be together f-forever, princess.”

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

btw toji loves fucking you in prone bone. and he likes to just put all of his weight on you, trapping you underneath him and he likes to just grind into you. he's so fucking big and it's just so much and you feel like you're going to pass out from the sensation. he doesn't even pull out, he just slowly rolls his hips into yours while sloppily kissing away the tears that fall from your pretty eyes.

you can't even properly moan anymore, the only sounds that slip from your lips are broken mewls and shaky breaths. his one arm is curled around your neck, supporting your heavy head with his forearm and bicep. toji feels your drool on his skin and grins to himself.

his hot breath warms your already scorching flesh and you can't keep eyes open either – the feeling of toji in your guts being too much to handle. hazy and delirious, he loves seeing you like this; he loves watching you crumble underneath him. he loves to fuck your pretty little brains out and he will keep doing so as long as he gets to see you like this.

he hisses when you clench around him, his own breath hitching. his free hand finds yours holding onto the crumpled bedsheet below you and he interwines his bigger, rougher fingers with yours.

"does it feel good, hm?" he rasps right in your ear. your body trembles at his voice, at the proximity and he feels like he's in heaven. "tell me."

but instead of an answer, you let out a defeated little whimper from the depths of your stomach. he's so heavy on top of you and you just can't bring yourself to open your mouth again. you just can't do it; you don't have the strength nor the brainpower.

he squeezes your hands before pushing himself deep inside, his tip kissing your most sensitive part. a broken cry tumbles from you accompanied by another few tears—

—but then he just stays there.

he doesn't pull away, he doesn't move at all. he's crushing you under him, he's forging your bodies together. his heart rests above yours, his warm skin sticks to yours just like it's meant to.

"toji- "

he hums and presses his lips to your sweaty temple. he can feel your body trembling, the overstimulation taking hold of you before his very eyes.

"move." your voice is almost as raspy as his is. he's proud of that too – you're giving your all to him and he welcomes you with open arms. this is his way to show you how much he really cares for you, his way of showing his love. "please."

toji chuckles darkly; even the slightest movement makes the knot in your stomach tighten in this position and you feel like you're going to cum... just from this – you're going to finish with him lodged deep inside you, exactly where he belongs.

"i asked you a question, sweetheart."

you try to wriggle yourself under him, desperate to make him move but he's way too heavy. he moves your both hands closer and tucks them right beside your head – he's making you feel smaller and smaller. it feels like you're suffocating. in the best fucking way possible.

the hand that's been resting below your jaw goes to turn your head to the side, so toji can finally kiss you. open-mouthed and sloppy, he pushes his tongue inside and groans at the taste of you. his angel. you can barely keep up with him but he doesn't mind.

he's still not moving his hips though. if anything, he spreads his big thighs a bit wider so he can burrow himself even deeper. your mouth falls slack against his and you can't fucking breathe.

"tell m', how ya feel."

cracking open your eyes, you peer at him from the corner of your eyes and he coos at you. he doesn't let go of your face, keeping you right there so he can look at your perfectly fucked out face.

"so- so good." you hiccup. lips covered in your own drool, you look like a mess. you look like you deserve a reward. "please...."

toji gives you another rumble of a hum and a soft little smile. a lovesick one. he brings your hand to his lips and he presses a kiss on the inside of your wrist while keeping his eyes on you. his lips tug upward when he feels you pulsate around him again but he doesn't tease you for it this time.

it doesn't take much for him to have you twitching and spasming below him. he drinks up every single gasp and mewl, every single whimper and moan as he keeps rocking his hips into you. he helps you ride out your earth-shattering orgasm with rougher and rougher thrusts, his own desire to fill you up and mark you as his taking hold of him.

you cry into the pillow as he growls praise at you. the air in the room is thick and the messy, slick sounds of your bodies grinding together fills the space with ease. you can hear yourself, you can hear him and it's like a perfect melody. everything is so fucking messy, it's so fucking dirty and you wouldn't want it any other way.

he gives your hand another strong squeeze as he cums. his hips stutter flush against you, skin to skin, and he lets out the most beautiful moan. he doesn't hold back anymore – he wants you to know how good you make him feel, too.

his body relaxes on top of you as he listens to you trying to catch your breath. he pulls you as close as he possibly can.

"did s'good for me." he gives you another sloppy kiss on the nape of your neck before hiding his flushed face in your hair. you give him a weak hum, the exhaustion hitting you like a truck. your eyes flutter shut but you gather your last strength to raise and pull his hand to your lips. you need to feel him; more, more, more – he needs to be even closer. always.

soft lips against the back of his hands, you whisper. "iloveyou..."

the words all mix together, coming out as a muddled mess... but it's his muddled mess. he can't help but smile lazily at your sleepy confession.

"i love y'too."

he lets you rest for a bit, he knows you need it. he plays with your hair and he drags his fingers over your smaller ones. he doesn't want to pull away, he wants to stay like this forever.

[milktiicup]

do you write for mr scarletella? :) if so, may i request jealous scarlet who makes attempts to get closer to reader (court them) after seeing how close they are to mr crawling

persistence is key

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact. “What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. “You slow in head?”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ yeah idk, lowkey some enemies to (potential) lovers, i have no idea how to characterise mr scarletella, but i tried my best and then i kinda got a little too invested in trying to spin the fic the way i wanted and wrote a little more than usual... sorry if ur disappointed, i tried to keep the whole courting/jealous thing subtle but still kinda there >w<

warnings. canon typical violence >w<

You’re not sure when you met the man in red, but you know he’s stalking you now. And it’s getting seriously old. Unlike the ghosts and monsters you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, this one doesn’t know how to take a hint.

Your first unofficial encounter with him is something that sent shivers down your spine, tucked away under Mr. Crawling’s arm and clutching onto his kimono for dear life. The second encounter was much worse- separated from your other worldly protector and left running down an almost comically long and creepy hallway where he just magically appears in front of you. 

You don’t even think twice before you smash the crowbar into his form with all your strength, but it was futile the way he flickered? in front of your own eyes and left a weird moist residue on your weapon. You scowled, and rudely pointed a finger at him- “What the hell’s your problem, dude?”

In response, he leaned in close- so close that your nose nearly touched his. The tilt of his scarlet umbrella cast a dark shadow over you, and as he peered down, one black eye appeared from behind his hair, locking onto you with a soul-piercing stare. You felt stripped bare under that gaze, vulnerable and exposed, like he was seeing straight into your core, uncovering forgotten memories, pieces of yourself even you couldn’t remember. He smiled—a slow, unsettling curl of his lips that chilled you to your bones—and said something you didn’t understand. It sounded like a question, maybe, though you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care. You spat out a few choice words and swung again, hard.

At least for a while, he left you alone.

Has it been days, weeks, or even months since you’ve got here? It was difficult to keep track, and it was difficult to even care anymore. The place was, without a doubt, growing on you by the day. Even if it was filled with hostile creatures that wanted to eat you sometimes, and when your skin started to get discoloured and you had the inhuman itch that just could never be satisfied- it wasn’t that bad! Hell, you even made a few friends and claimed a comfortable bed in some random room you found.

However, just as you finally started settling into the place, you had your third encounter with Mr. Scarletella.

It started with a dream- from before you came to this world. That man in red… A test of courage, your friends called it- spending a night in those so-called ‘Ghost Apartments.’ Your friends hadn’t known it then, but you were quite familiar with the building for reasons, and set yourself up in a cosy corner and the night was supposed to sail smoothly.

A rumour had surfaced- a tale of a ruin that appears only on rainy days, where you’re warned never to give your name to the figure you’ll meet there. That figure, they said, would take your soul. At the end of a dim hallway, standing silently under a scarlet umbrella, he was waiting. The man in red, eyes hidden beneath his hair. He was watching you. Or was he? Somehow you could feel his stare even if you couldn’t see it. 

You woke up, heart pounding, muttering a string of curses. You groan, rubbing a hand down your face. The discoloration of your skin hadn’t gotten any worse, but it hadn’t gotten better, either. The longer you stayed here, the more the place left its mark. As long as you remained relatively human, and the only thing this place took from you was your memory, you weren’t too fussed. How could you possibly miss something from the other world when all you could remember was smashing a crowbar into someone’s head?

You swing your legs over the bed, feet touching the cold ground. The chill sent a jolt up your spine, and it was almost too tempting to get back under the cosy, warm sheets. You stretch your arms above your head, bones cracking and popping into place and mumble a hazy ‘Good morning’ to Mr. Crawling that should have been in the other bed. Silence wasn’t something you were used to around him- and you whip around so fast that you gave yourself whiplash.

Cursing, you grab your crowbar and stumble out of the room with a hand rubbing your tender neck. You didn’t need to look far- you could see Mr. Crawling at the end of the hallway.

And Mr. Scarletella. 

The man in red was bent over to be face to face with Mr. Crawling, all-too-familiar sinister smirk on his face. Mr. Crawling didn’t look so happy either, and they seemed to be having an argument. You stomp your feet as you make your way over to the two, hand tightening on your crowbar as you ready yourself to fight literal static if it meant leaving your best friend in here alone.

“You,” you scowl, pointing your weapon at him. “You problem?”

Mr. Crawling scurries to your side, a hand gripping onto your clothes. “Dangerous… should get away!” he urges, tugging. 

You shush him with a pat on his head with your free hand and continue to glare at that menace. 

“You like them?” is the only thing Mr. Scarletella asks with a tilt of his head, smile seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Glancing at Mr. Crawling, his face covered in worry- you feel the familiar itch of your skin. You take a breath, going through all the reasons why you can’t actually kill Mr. Scarletella, and loosen the grip on your crowbar. From what you can sense right now, he’s not actually that much of a threat. Just a nuisance that can’t seem to leave you alone. 

“Them friend,” you reply, deadpan. What type of question was that anyway? This guy was a freak. 

That creepy smile grows on his face. "You like me," he says like it’s a fact.

“What the- what?” You share a glance with Mr. Crawling. You turn back to Mr. Scarletella. “You slow in head?”

The smile on Mr. Scarletella’s face falters just for a moment, but it quickly returns, more chilling than before. He stands there, towering above you. Despite your snarky comment, he doesn’t look offended- no, it’s almost as if he’s intrigued by your resistance.

You tighten your hold on the crowbar. “You problem.” You frown. “Go away.”

Instead, his grin deepens, his head tilting at such an unnatural angle that you can feel your stomach churn. It’s as though he’s studying you, savouring every little bit of your discomfort. Surely, turning your head at that angle is gonna hurt… You audibly gulp.

“Problem later,” Mr. Scarletella says, and with an unsettling flicker, he’s gone. 

The next time you saw him after that was in less tense circumstances. It was unsettling after whatever that was with his coy little ‘Problem later’, you weren’t going to worry too much about it for the time being. You decided you’ll worry about it when the problem occurs, which probably wasn’t the smartest of ideas you had. 

The earth shakes, and you’re completely cut off from Mr. Crawling. Wandering down hallways, resting in random rooms- you never really felt alone. You turn a corner, dizziness growing by the minute, and pause.

“You again,” you sigh. You don’t even bother lifting your crowbar at him. “What do you want?”

He appears directly in front of you, causing you to stumble back a few steps at just how tall he is. He bends down to your eye level, umbrella covering both of you once again. “Give name?” he asks. 

“No. Go away.”

“Give name. Teach.”

“Go away!”

“Teach name.”

“Fine! My name’s… you pause. You didn’t actually have to give him your real name, did you? “...Silvair, or something.”

He gets closer to your face. You take another few steps back, but not before you get the smell of blood and dampness off of him. It takes all the willpower in your body to not scrunch your face up. 

“Wrong name.”

“So what? It’s a name.” You scoff. Mr. Scarletella is silent, eerily so, and you can feel his piercing gaze stare through you once more. You awkwardly avoid eye contact, and clear your throat. “I’m… gonna go now, okay?” You turn on your feet and only make it a few steps.

“You teach them name?”

Them? Mr. Crawling? That guy doesn’t even understand the concept of his own name! The scowl feels as if it’s permanently etched onto your face. You whip around, pointing another disapproving finger into his red raincoat. It feels fuzzy… and wet. It grosses you out, almost. More than Mr. Gap’s greasy hair.

“No,” you hiss. “I don’t even remember my own name.” He stares, silently.  “Me,” you point to yourself, “not know name.”

“...Not know name?” he echoes. What you said has him lost, you could see that. 

Just like that, he’s gone again. You don’t see him for a few more days, nor do you find Mr. Crawling. You spend your time aimlessly wandering, knowing eventually you’ll most likely find someone you know in a friendly manner, and not pondering if every ghost you come across is a friend or a foe. 

You awake promptly to a sound of a chainsaw revving. As if it was a morning routine, you stumble to your feet, grasping for your crowbar that should have, without a doubt, been next to you… only to grasp at air. Okay, now you are starting to feel a little panic.

Through trial and error, you knew that whatever wound you receive will heal, with time- but it doesn’t mean you were looking forward to being maimed to shreds with a chainsaw! 

“Hehe.”

You froze, heart racing, and slowly turn around. There that wretched little being was- the stupid little fucker in the goat costume. The ‘Hooded Child’, the thing was termed. In it’s stupid little fucking hands, it held you handy-dandy crowbar that’s been with you thick and thin. Your stomach churns. 

You gulp and face back towards the open doorway- a long black abyss, stretching on and on, with only the haunting bounce of that chainsaw, crawling along the walls. That chainsaw that was about to mince you in a matter of seconds. That chainsaw that was approaching you rapidly.

Frantically, you grab the nearest thing you could reach for. A metal chair. You wince. Probably not the best thing you could’ve grabbed, but it’ll have to do. It’s a matter of- well, technically life or life, but still! You could feel the sweat on your palms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your heart hammering through your ribcage. 

You lift the chair above your head as the monster comes into view- a tall, masked being in a strapless floor length black dress… wait, why was she dressed so sexy? Your surprise leads you to hesitate as she rushes at you with her machine. You let out a yelp as you whack the chair down in front of you, metal clanging echoing throughout the room.

Complete silence. Not even the sound of that chainsaw. Not even the sound of metal.  

“Huh?” You blink, once, twice, thrice at the sliced up body of that creature, blood splatter on your clothes. There was blood even on the ceiling, too… You drop the chair in utter confusion.  “What the hell?”

“Help you.”

“You again!” You spin on your feet, meeting the dull eyes of Mr. Scarletella. You’re about to huff and puff this guy into next week, but pause. You leave your accusing finger down by your side. This guy just saved you from that thing. You avert your eyes and scuff your feet against the ground with a cough into your fist. “Uhm… Thank you.”

Wow, this guy really has an intense stare… Way to make things unnecessarily intense and awkward. 

“Protect you,” he says. “You like me?”

“Take me out to dinner first, man!” you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not like. You not bad. Not good. You okay.”

Mr. Scarletella dons an out of place frown that even makes you feel a little uneasy. “Them protect you. You like them.”

“Them friend,” you stress, finally meeting his gaze once more. You kind of regret it. This guy doesn’t blink. “You…” Weird? Off-putting? Freaky? “...unsafe.”

“Me safe. Protect you. Help you.” 

You sigh. “Unsafe to friend.”

He just stands there, holding that stupid umbrella, with that unblinking stare. You blink at him and squint your eyes. His facial expression doesn’t change. Completely unfazed. You can’t even tell if he’s confused, or upset, or whatever he could possibly be. Your breath hitches as his unsettlingly familiar smile returns.

He tilts his head. “Me good. Me show you.”

Then he’s gone again. You can finally breathe. Your heart is still pumping. You slide against the wall, landing on the ground and resting your head against your knees. You clutch at your raincoat with shaking fists. 

Mr. Scarletella - you knew he was meant to be dangerous, but he just saved you a whole lot of pain. Even if he was still a threat to Mr. Crawling, and hounds you for your name, asks you weird questions, could he honestly be as bad as you originally thought he was? You can’t deny that he did save you… but his presence is more dangerous than comforting. He’s both a threat and an aid, but never clear on which he’ll be at any given moment. One thing is for certain, however, and that was that he was persistent for your attention. Wait… 

Oh my good God, does he like you?

“Heh…”  Chuckling, you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I am pretty cute.”

You stand, and decide it’s better to think about while on the move back to Mr. Crawling. You reach for your crowbar, and curse. Of course. The Hooded Child took it with them when they disappeared when Mr. Stalkerella showed up. Well, you sigh as you drag the chair behind you as you exit the room, at least you have a temporary weapon, for now…

Making it back to Mr. Crawling didn’t take that much longer. He greets you, frown on his face and long arms wrapping around your waist. “Me worried! You gone long time!”  

“Long time,” you agree, bending down to his level. You ruffle his hair, a smile finally sliding onto your face. It quickly turns into a pout as you wave your empty hands. “Lost attack tool.” 

Mr. Crawling points to the spilled blood on your raincoat with a high pitched noise. You sheepishly giggle, and gesture to the chair behind you. He tilts his head, processing, before letting out his all familiar laugh. You sigh in content, glad to see a friendly face and let him pet you for a while. 

He stops petting you, and turns around. “Attack tool!” he smiles wide, your trusty weapon in his grey hands. “Them give me.”

“Them?” you repeat, taking the crowbar, twisting and turning it in your grasp. “Them who?”

“Them!” 

Curse this damn language. 

“Mr. Crawling,” you hold his face in your hands, “what look like?”

His smile falters, and if you could see his eyebrows, you’d imagine they would be furrowed. He takes a moment to think, and points to the blood on your raincoat, and attempts to imitate holding an…

Umbrella.

You stare. And stare. And stare. You can’t even begin to process what Mr. Crawling just said to you, debating maybe you actually were growing crazy and it was finally time to bounce out of this place- andddd of course, you notice a red flicker at the end of the hallway. You tilt your head past Mr. Crawling.

That scarlet umbrella tilts slightly, and just for a split second, you catch a glimmer of that piercing dark eye staring straight at you, as if watching every nerve fire under your skin. You can see his smile from here, as if it was a smug ‘I told you so’ but it was actually a ‘Me show you.’ 

Well… Mr. Scarletella did show you. And now you were just left, to put it simply, utterly fucking confused. It just drilled the narrative down deeper of the possibility that he did like you. So… what do you do now? Do you apologise for trying to smash his head in with a crowbar? For being so rude? 

How do you even apologise for something you don’t even remotely feel sorry for in the first place? Mr. Scarletella was creepy! …At least, he was kind of sweet. Not really- his intentions were anything but kind. But still!

You bite the inside of your cheek. …Is it wrong to feel a little flattered? There’s barely any romance in this place anyway!

In your world, things are either friend or foe, monster or protector. But Mr. Scarletella? He exists in some in-between place. Dangerous yet helpful. It’s as if he’s deliberately defying every category you try to force him into. And now, the memory of his unsettling question repeats in your mind- “You like me?” - echoing in your thoughts with a kind of twisted innocence that gnaws at you, a bit more with each repetition.

Mr. Crawling gives a soft, anxious chirp, tugging you slightly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still eyeing the red figure warily. He points. “Them… dangerous? Them good?” 

“Not know,” you mumble, defeated. “Good, maybe.” You stand to your feet, crowbar falling off of your lap and clanging onto the floor. “Me, them, talk. You stay.”

Mr. Crawling makes a noise of protest, hand reaching out to grasp at your clothes. You reassuringly ruffle his hair once more, and make your way to the end of the hallway. You don’t hear him follow behind you.

Face to face, you stand in front of the smiling Mr. Scarletella. He stares down at you, unblinking, unmoving. 

“Can’t give name,” you remind him.

He leans his face down, ever so close. “Me like you.” A pause. “Want you.” Another pause. “You like me. Give me many human. Give me many blood.” 

Well… In your defence, you didn’t know your corpse dumping ground was Mr. Scarletella’s domain. 

“Getting in over your own head…” you grumble, and lift up your hand. You pinch your fingers together. “Little like you. Okay? LITTLE.” You wonder if this guy’s smile could get any bigger, geez… “You want big like?” You point your index towards him. “Be normal. Be good. Understand?”

“Normal? “Good?” He seems to chew over the words like they’re a foreign delicacy, his head tilting at that unnatural angle again. “For… you?”

“You good,” you waggle your finger at him, “I teach name. Maybe. If I can remember it…”

There’s an unnatural, prolonged silence in the air. You’re beginning to feel the awkward tension once more, but your resolve refuses you to break the unblinking eye contact you keep with him. 

And finally, he speaks once more, agreeing to your proposition, “You teach good, you teach name.”

You hold back your groan- whatever this dance you two were playing, was going to take a long time to progress.

But at least something is better than nothing, right?

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

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“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[primofate]

Quick Kinich Brainrot.

Kinich sings the Ode of Resurrection a little louder and with a little more earnest when you're involved.

He doesn't notice it, but Mualani sure does. Kachina is none the wiser, she thinks Kinich treats everyone equally.

"Excited?" Mualani prods the said man on his side, grin as wide as ever, while waiting for the Ressurection to start.

"Huh?" Kinich asks.

Turns out he was none the wiser too. He thought he treated everyone equally.

"For Y/N to come back!" Mualani tries to hide the exasperation in her voice.

"...Isn't everyone?" Kinich simply says. Ajaw is surprisingly quiet.

Mualani has a retort at the tip of her tongue, but the ceremony starts. The eulogy is recited and the humming commences.

The ceremony is the same as it always is, and as the Pyro archon disappears into the Sacred Flame, people start to cheer and shout.

Kinich stays quiet. Eyes tacked on to the flame, shoulders tense, searching for the first sign of the Pyro Archon and you.

His mind doesn't quite register it when the Pyro Archon emerges from the flame carrying you in her arms.

The cheers continue, but when people start to notice that you're unconscious and asleep, the noise dwindles down.

Kinich masterfully swings himself over to meet the Pyro Archon, peering over at your face. "Is Y/N okay?"

"What's wrong with 'em? Psh. And here I thought they weren't one of the puny ones! Well at least it ain't a bag of bones!" Ajaw cackles, but constantly tries to circle around to catch a glimpse of your face.

"Trouble in the Night Kingdom," the archon replies. "They're fine, they just need a bit more rest to stabilize the Abyssal energy in them,"

Kinich steps back with a sigh.

The wave of panic that hit him settling down to ripples. Something similar had happened to Kachina before, in fact that time had been worse. Kinich hated to admit it, but he didn't feel half as scared back then than he did now.

What did that tell him?

He puts his hands forward "I'll take Y/N, archon. I'll take care of them," urgency and desperation mixed together in his voice.

The pyro archon had no doubt that he would, but shakes her head. "They'll have to stay here until the abyssal energy stabilizes, it could be dangerous to you as well,"

"But--" His response was automatic, and he had to stop himself from protesting.

Just take Y/N home. Don't let anyone else take them.

Repeated in his mind, over and over again. Home. You'll be safe there. He'll make sure of it. But he relents, and drops his arms to his sides. "...Okay,"

The pyro archon promises you'll be fine.

Kinich was a competent fighter. He was an ancient name bearer. He had fought so many battles and looked for many more.

But in this one simple and single moment, suddenly he wasn't so strong anymore.

His fear was bigger than his whole existence.