#kinktober maybe

[ramp-it-up]

Greatest

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Summary: Steve tells you the truth.

This is the next part in the Greatest series.

A/N: This is not as kinky as I promised. I had to cut this in two because I'm in the mood for love, so this has plot with the porn. Hope you like it anyway! #KinktoberMaybe

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, fast start to slow burn, idiots in love, angst, secrets, sexual frustration, good girl kink, public sex acts, manual sex, teasing, edging, Captain kink, praise/degradation kink, dirty talk, graphic sloppy oral. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

Notice: I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

——

Steve glared at Bucky, silently daring him to say it. He had the urge to punch something and Bucky’s mug was very convenient at the moment. 

The only thing holding him back was the fact that Bucky was 100% correct.

“Let me get this straight. You had her. Or she had you rather, in the palm of her hand. And you left her there to take a shower and let her walk out the door?”

Steve thought back to what he was thinking when he made that decision. He realized that he wasn’t thinking, but panicking. He didn’t want the rush of hormones and emotions that flooded him after your beautiful mouth made him lose control. So he retreated to the shower, hoping and praying that you would follow him, and absolve him of having to make the decision.

All he needed was that one overture from you to make rushing forward with you before having a proper conversation.

But your pride was stronger than the physical need you had, and when you walked in the bathroom, you just fixed your face and reapplied your lipgloss, smoothing your dress down your body and looking at your ass in the full length mirror before you gave the shower a side eye when you walked out the door.

“None of it was supposed to happen… it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. I wanted to talk to her first. Before we… But she is so… I just wanted to do it right…”

Bucky shook his head. 

“You missed your chance at that, Punk. You could have told her on your date…or when we landed…or in the room, before you did disrespectful things to her.”

“Shut your trap, Jerk.”

Steve looked around the bar as people walked by. He sometimes regretted that he told Bucky everything. 

“... or at breakfast, before she sucked out what little brain cells you have…”

Steve downed his drink as he listened to his friend accurately recount his failures.

“Hey.”

Steve looked up into his best friend’s eyes.

“It’s not too late. The problem is that you riled her up and left her hanging. You better find her before one of these insanely handsome Italian men do.”

“Shit.”

Bucky chuckled as he watched Steve hurry out of the hotel and into the streets of the fishing village. He had to find you and tell you the truth.

—-

You loved your little sister, but she was being a monumental pain in the ass.

Hey, Sissy!

Just want to let you know that Topher and I and the rest of the peeps (except Steve of course) are going to Paris! D invited us!

I’ll send you lots of pics to post. The most romantic place on earth, eek! Enjoy the yacht ride and the accommodations. We’ll pick you up at the end of the week.

Go easy on Steve, don’t hurt him! ;)

You saw the message twenty minutes after Aria sent it, and she wasn’t picking up your calls. 

Now you were trapped in Italy with the asshole who liked to play mind games.

Great.

You looked over at the tall dark handsome stranger who was looking at you from the cafe across the street. You smiled as you realized that Steve Rogers wasn’t the only game in town.

—

Steve’s morning was spent searching high and low in Riomaggiore. But it was Bucky’s text that sent him flying back to the room.

Gonna take Aria and crew to Paris for the rest of the week. Don’t ask.

I can handle the two hour flight. You concentrate on Y/N, Aria wants you two to have alone time.

I gotta tell you though, Sharon thought she saw her with an Italian dude, btw…

Steve was shook when he found that you had cleaned out your stuff from the room that you were forced to share. 

He had no idea where you were.

—--

Hours later, you were enjoying coffee at a different cafe, alone. Luca was indeed handsome, and charming. But you weren’t quite feeling him like you wanted to. He showed you some sights, but after spending a wonderful afternoon with him, you decided you needed time to get out of your head.

So you went and got your things and transferred them to Aria’s suite. It was much more spacious than the room you’d shared with Steve. He deserved space from the horrible bitch who’d ruined his trip.

The best thing to do was to give him some space on his unintended vacation. You were a big girl. You could take care of yourself. And you needed some down time from taking care of everyone else. You would go to activities planned for Aria and Topher this week, get social media content, post it later, and make it seem as if her honeymoon was twice as long as it was. 

It was win-win.

So why did it feel as if you’d lost something?

You looked down into your cup of coffee as if you could read your future there and you heard a familiar voice.

“There you are!”

You looked up into the cerulean eyes of Steve Rogers.

You stared as he started talking.

“Listen. I know I fucked up. But let me explain.”

You scowled at him.

“Do all asshole men have the same script or something? That is one of the most basic sentences ever.”

You got out your wallet and put some euros, gathered your shopping bags and stood up.

“Y/N, I know I’m a basic bitch, but please hear me out.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Steve’s attempt at the vernacular. But you kept walking out of the cafe. You knew he was following you, but you kept it moving to the corner as you stopped to hail a taxi.

Steve was anxious, but he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight again. 

“I’ve rented a Vespa. I can give you a ride.”

His deep voice so close was doing things to you, but you just gave him a side eye over your shoulder.

Steve gave you a side smile in response and motioned down the street to the small red machine. You squinted at it.

“Will you, me, and my bags fit on that little bitty thing?”

“We’ll make sure we fit.”

Steve leaned toward you and gabbed your bags from you, fingers brushing against yours, sparking electricity. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish as you chased your purchases. 

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Steve stopped abruptly and turned around, causing you to stop inches from him.

“You’re right. Do you want me to leave you alone? Or do you want an explanation.”

You huffed up at him, heart beating a mile a minute at the deep bass of his voice.

“What if I want both? I need… I need to know the reason and I need to think. You’re a fucking enigma!”

Steve smiled down at you.

“I know. And I apologize. You don’t deserve the mind games.”

You exhaled.

“Thank you for that.”

“So. Do you want to go back to… wherever you’re staying tonight and talk tomorrow, or go somewhere and talk tonight and I give you space after… or….”

You realized that Steve was hurt that you moved out of the room as you looked into his eyes.

“I moved into Aria’s suite. To give you some space…”

“I don’t want… I mean. I get it.”

Steve was looking down now.

��Let’s go talk. Still have the yacht booked for tomorrow, that would be a great time for me to think.”

You watched Steve’s adam’s apple bob as he thought of you in a swimsuit.

“Cool. Let’s go.”

Steve led you to the scooter and secured your bags on the back of the Vespa as you got your helmet on. He put his helmet on and looked back at you as you climbed on behind him.

You had to be careful to tuck your dress properly, and you could have sworn that Steve licked his lips as he watched you. You decided to ignore that as you settled in.

You held on to Steve’s slim waist as loosely as you could, but you ended up with your hands dangerously close to where your mouth was this morning. You tried not to think of it as you took in the scenery and zipped through the town. Steve seemed to know his way around.

You turned into a parking area.

“The Via dell'Amore?, really Steve?”

“It’s a beautiful view. I’m not trying to mess with your mind, Y/N.”

You were wary, but you followed his lead to the trail. You were blown away as you stepped on the pathway proper and you felt Steve’s heat close behind you. It was a narrow path.

“Amazing isn’t it?”

“It’s breathtaking!”

You looked back at Steve and he smiled when he saw your face. 

“I’m glad that you like it.”

You two started to walk, and you found out that Steve had been stationed at Pisa and that’s why he knew Cinque Terre so well. 

“I bet you brought a lot of girls up here.”

You didn’t know why you cared. But he was supposed to be explaining himself.

“Fewer than you’d think. There was one local girl, but I haven’t had many relationships.”

“Oh.” 

You bit your lip as you overthought.

“I would have thought that someone who looked like you would have people falling at your feet.”

“Really?” Steve appraised you. “I might say the same for you.”

You laughed.

“I’m not everyone’s type.

“And I’ve never been more grateful to be an individual.”

You shook your head.

“Look Steve, I am really sorry for how I acted on our date. It was so wrong of me to assume about your upbringing. I understand your need to get back at me…”

“Wait. Do you think that last night and this morning was about getting back at you?”

Steve had stopped and was looking into your eyes.

“Well…”

Steve put his hands on your arms and shook his head.

“That wasn’t what that was. Man, I am such an idiot. I need to explain.”

Steve spied a stone bench that overlooked the water and led you over to it.

“This is about my childhood. And yours. About us…”

“What are you talking about, Steve?”

“What do most people ask you about your background?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Most people ask me how I became Aria’s publicist.”

Aria starred in a Disney sitcom as a teen and her recording and acting career took off from there. There were plenty of sharks, but you knew the business. When you finished college, you made sure that she would never be exploited again.

“I figured, but what about you? You’re pretty talented yourself, right? You acted a bit when you were younger, didn’t you?”

You did a double take. Not many people knew that about you.

“You’ve been researching me, Captain Rogers?”

Steve’s stomach flipped when you called him that, but he answered you.

“Not exactly. Maybe. Sort of. I know things.”

Steve plowed ahead. You decided to play along.

“So… yeah. I was in Betcha By Golly Wow when I was 10-12 years old. I played young Vanessa.”

You thought back to the days when you were considered one of the most promising young actors on broadway. You even had a Tony nomination somewhere in storage. What a time that was in your life. Aria was a toddler and your parents were still alive. It was before you had to grow up so fast. You adored Aria, but back then you were able to do something you loved in the most glorious way. 

Your arms raised goosebumps as you looked into Steve’s eyes. Something was prickling your intuition.

Steve nodded at your response as though he knew what you were going to say.

“What was your favorite part about performing on Broadway?”

“Well….”  

You looked at him again, getting this strange feeling of deja vu. There was something about this exchange that was giving you the feels.

“My favorite part of being on a Broadway show was making people happy. I loved hearing the audience sing along and laugh at my lines. I used to love the finale because everyone in the audience always got on their feet and danced along.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You were breathless now. It couldn’t be. You had to be crazy.

“And after the show, I used to meet as many people as possible. And talk to them. I was thrilled when they wanted my autograph and said that they wanted to come back to see the show again. It was such a privilege to make someone’s day.”

“D’you remember any of the people that you talked to?”

“There were some that stood out.”  

You were looking at Steve in a new light now. 

“...Like the time Audra McDonald came by. And Sheryl Lee Ralph. My heroes.”

“Are those the only ones you remember?”

“I loved when we did special matinees for schools. There was one time, when we were paid by the Stark Foundation to give personalized tours for boys from a group home who were interested in acting…”

“I bet that was a real treat for them.”

You squinted at Steve, trying to erase 20 years from his face.

“Yeah. I bet. But, as you probably know very well, 12 year old boys can be assholes. I was assigned this asswipe of a kid named Brock, and he demanded that I kiss him behind the kitchen set, he also tried to feel me up, and I slapped him.”

You shook your head at the memory. Then your brow furrowed and you looked back up at Steve.

“He started to manhandle me and I got scared, because he was so much bigger than me. He grabbed my arm and all of a sudden, this scrawny little kid named Grant…”

You cocked your head sideways at Steve, almost certain now. You continued.

“…This smallish kid named Grant jumped on his back from nowhere, and managed to distract him. Of course, Brock started to get him good, but I picked up a baseball bat from the stage props and together we got him to leave us alone. I ended up…”

Your voice trailed off as the emotion of that day came back. You couldn’t believe you had blocked this all out.

“Smallish?” Steve snorted. “He was a runt.” 

He smiled at you and your heart did a thing. 

“I’m guessing.”

You smiled and nodded. 

“Right.”

“And I bet that you took that Grant kid to your dressing room and cleaned him up. Because Brock tagged him in the nose pretty good.”

You looked at Steve’s beautifully crooked nose.

“You probably taught him the dance in the second act. Even the slow dance that the grown-ups did….”

Steve trailed off, lost in the moment so long ago.

That moment when you first stared into the same blue eyes that you were looking into now came back and took your breath away.

“Great guesses. And I bet you can also surmise that I was taller than him.”

You smiled softly as you remembered the way his hand trembled at your waist, but the boldness in the way he stared at you. You bit your lip as you remembered the innocent kiss on the cheek that you gave him as he left.

Steve was blushing now, looking down at his hands as he smiled at the memory.

“Yeah. He probably hadn’t had his growth spurt yet. But I bet that didn’t matter to him. You were probably… No definitely the most beautiful girl that kid had ever seen. And that kid never forgot that day. Or you. He probably never got over it.”

You two stared at each other for a long time it seemed. You broke the silence first.

“Steven Grant Rogers.”

Your eyes appreciated his body in a new light. 

“A growth spurt indeed.”

Steve flushed again.

“I wanted to tell you at dinner, but then…”

“I assumed shit and was rude as hell.”

“Yes…”

You scoffed as Steve laughed.

“…And I didn’t know how to tell you what I’ve wanted to since the day I found out you were Aria’s sister. The first time you stepped on the plane, you didn’t recognize me the way I recognized you. And I admit, I felt some kind of way.”

You cocked your head at him.

“You were salty? Why? You've been stalking me for 20 years and I ruined your chance to make you fall in love with me?”

You were joking but Steve didn’t laugh. 

“I’m not a stalker. But I really never forgot you. I did move on. Bucky and I enlisted together and I had other relationships. But there was this ideal girl in my head that no one could ever live up to. I gave up on finding the one, because I thought the one was somewhere out there that I would never reach. And then you walked on my plane and…”

“Wait. Your plane?”

“Well.. yeah. Bucky and I own two jets, and we lease them.”

“Oh. Topher presented it as if he owned it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway. Here you were. And you virtually ignored me. And then I managed to get a date with you and you were…”

“An asshole. I know.”

“Just.. not the same girl I had in my head.”

“Oh. So you’re disappointed?”

Your heart sank for some reason.

“No. You have grown up. You know who you are and speak up about it. But you challenge me, you care so much about everyone else, and you’re so fucking intelligent. And that body…”

You thrilled at that statement.

“You’re so much better than the fantasy I’d built in my head. I was intimidated.”

“You didn’t seem intimidated last night. Or this morning.”

You moved closer to him, craving…something.

“I wasn’t planning on having to sleep in the same bed as you. I couldn’t help myself.”

Steve’s hand touched your arm and moved up your neck.

“It’s like I’m drawn to you on a string… I…and this body… you’re not a little girl anymore.”

Steve looked down your cleavage and then drew away. You felt disappointed.

“I wanted to talk to you before… if… anything happened.”

Steve looked out over the water.

“And I just know that if I… if we… took it there. It would be the point of no return.” 

He looked back over to you.

“You wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.”

Your eyes were on Steve’s lips.

“So it’s like that?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“You mean to tell me that I would be dickmatized? I couldn’t quit you if I tried.”

Steve smiled cockily at you.

“Pretty sure that would be the case…”

“Try me.”

And suddenly you were on Steve’s lap, your hands in his hair as you kissed his lips and demanded entry with your tongue. You ground your crotch on him, bringing his cock to life through his pants. His hands went to your waist, thumbs caressing your sides as he took possession of your mouth. He groaned and one hand moved up to your nape, grabbing the hair there to separate you from him.

“We can’t…you’re trying to get me to fuck you on the side of a public cliff.’

You whined as Steve attacked your neck, nipping and biting you, surely leaving marks. Your clit was quivering from the pleasure and your whines got louder.

“Need you Steve…”

The last 24 hours felt like a giant tease. 

“You need time to think, remember? We’re caught up in emotion now… time to.. Fuck… think.”

“Yes. You’re right. Thinking is for winners. Not fucking like mindless animals. Wouldn’t want you to fuckme from behind like an animal with that big dick…”

“I’m so hard right now, I’d need to struggle to fit it in that tight little hole…”

You whimpered.

“It would be so easy right now. ‘M so wet…”

Steve groaned.

“Ok.. that’s it.”

He lifted you off of his lap and all you could do was look down on his hardon, disappointed. He lifted your chin to look in your eyes.

“You really will have us arrested.”

He nodded toward a security camera.

“Let’s go back to our separate rooms. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Yes, join me on the yacht tour we can have a great discussion in our bathing suits. Swim in the ocean. Get all wet…”

Steve shook his head at you and grabbed your hand.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

He led you back down the path to the Vespa and kissed you after you put your helmet on.

“I promise I won’t hurt you, y/n. I will give you anything you ask for. And you asked for space.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, even if I ask you to?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Steve laughed at your antics.

You kept your hands in neutral places on the ride back to the hotel, resting your chin against Steve’s leather-clad back. Steve caressed your hand with his as he drove. He walked you back to your new suite, and when you reached the door you leaned back against the wall.

“Do you want to come… in?”

Steve smiled at you. 

“More than anything… but I won’t..”

You pouted up at him, chipping away at his resolve. You cursed yourself for saying you needed time alone.

“Can I have a kiss, Captain?”

Steve chuckled, moving closer to you.

“Of course…”

You dropped your bags when he leaned down, your tongue laved his lips and when he opened, you sucked his tongue. Steve moaned into your mouth as your hands came up and tugged on his hair. That was a hot wire straight to his cock. His hands began to wander, large fingers playing with your nipples through your bodice. Your sensitive buds were straining against the lace and the cotton as he teased you.

“This dress…the way you look in it. And the way you feel…”

“You’re making me so hot, Steve. Want you. Need you…I’m dripping for you.”

You pressed yourself close to him, standing on tiptoe to return the favor of marking his neck, making him reach down and gather up the hem of your dress.

“Is that so?”

And his fingers dipped into the lace of your sodden panties, moaning as he felt you.

“Fuck this feels so good, Doll. You are so slick…oh my god…”

He started to finger fuck you with two thick fingers as his thumb twirled your plucky button.

You were holding on to his shoulders for dear life at this point.

“S-steve! Fuck!”

“When you go in here. By yourself. Alone.”

It was like he was trying to convince himself. And he was.

“Don’t touch yourself. I’m claiming this pussy as mine. And I don’t want you to touch it. Be a good girl and save your orgasm for me.”

You were about to cum on the palm of Steve’s hand, so you would agree to anything.

“Jesus Steve… yes, yes! Whatever you say.”

He withdrew his hand, holding your glare as you watched him suck his fingers off, angry that your orgasm was denied. You didn’t want to be defiant, but you needed retribution.

“Then you can’t touch that cock. No matter how hard you get tonight.”

Steve gulped.

“Don’t waste any of that delicious cream on the floor or any where that I am not there to lick it off of you. If you are not going to cum inside me tonight, you better not do it anywhere.”

He smiled at your possessiveness.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned down and kissed your nose.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry. You know that?”

You smiled up at him and turned around to the wall within the cage of his arms.

“I’m much cuter when you’re hitting it from the back, or so I’m told.”

Steve felt a mixture of jealousy and lust as you stuck your ass out and ground on his hard cock through your dress and his pants. He pushed his wet fingers in your mouth as his other hand went back to your pussy, teasing you to the edge again, as he molded you to his fingers.

“Such a fucking brat. I should fill all your holes…”

Your body throbbed as you thought of being used by Steve in that way.

You begged for it.

“Please Captain…”

Steve growled as he abandoned your pussy again and fell to his knees, pulling your dress up and your panties down. He pulled your hips backward so that he had access to your sopping wet crease. He needed to shut you up, and this was the best thing he could think of although you were in the middle of a public hotel hallway. Of course, he wasn’t thinking clearly since there was no blood in his brain.

Steve’s lips suckled at your clit like a man dying of thirst and just when your vision started to blur, his rude tongue forged a path up your folds to your tight ring of muscle, where he boldly dipped inside you. You grabbed his hair as he gave you a taste of what he wanted to do to you, but once again, you were denied the ultimate pleasure. He stopped just before you came all over his face.

Your head was spinning as he turned you around and fixed your dress. You looked up at him, surprised that he was upright, and that you were not on your knees next.

“Now be a good girl and get some rest.” 

He put your bags back in your hand and kissed your temple, then retreated across the hall as you opened your door. 

“G’night,” he said as you held the door open, as if offering an invitation.

“Sweet dreams,” you responded, letting the door swing closed as you pulled your dress over your head, giving him a glimpse of the lilac lace beneath your dress.

Steve’s first urge was to break the door down when it latched closed, but instead he just stood there and collected himself as he looked around for the exit and took the stairs down to his room to burn off some steam.

You leaned against the wooden door of your room, hoping in vain to cool down the fire that Steve Rogers had stoked inside of you.

—-

If you like it, reblog pls! ❤️

[heavyheavycream]

feedist kinktober 26 : Olympian

goat faun and ram centaur AU

[visionsofmagic]

day 2: ryomen sukuna [breeding kink]

࿓ synopsis • sukuna just wants a womb to put his babies in but it changes when he fucks you.

―❦ nsfw, explicit language, f!reader, heian era!sukuna who has fours arms, concubine!reader, contains of a bit dark themes, licking, marks, pet names, humiliation, sukuna is being sukuna, a bit of fluff, sex addiction, fingering, cum, overstimulation [‘is all I guess?] • 1.8k • the first time I am writing for my favorite villain from jjk. Excited but there can be mistakes. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“fuck brat!” a dark chuckling, mocking you as his crimson four eyes look at below - at the mess you are making because of his thick cocks inside your walls, deep enough to make it ache like hell yet magnificent enough to give you the pleasure no one can. “look at how my seed is coming out of your pathetic pussy.” 

he doesn’t wait for you to respond- to even comprehend what he’s saying, holding your smaller face by the chin as his palm stays on your cheek. 

he lowers your head down, making you look at his cocks disappearing inside your pussy, and a bit of his hot semen dripping from it to his abdomen. 

“it’s-“ you try to say, sounding husky since you have only moaned, and screamed in the last few hours. closing your eyes, a jolt of electricity mixed with pain and pleasure runs through your body, even in veins, when he moves his hips, thrusting into you one more time before making you sit on his cocks once again - oh, his two damn big cocks should’ve ripped you apart if he wasn’t this gentle, surprisingly calm and gentle because he wants you to stay alive - you will have his legacy inside your womb after all, the reason why he fucks you for the past few hours.

“is it too much?” mocking again, his tongue on the abdomen takes a lick from your abdomen, traveling to your breasts from there, sending another mix of tears and moans.

“suku – aghh!“ a slap on the ass, “my king! oh, it’s - it’s too much! I can’t - I can’t -!” 

he only laughs at your poor attempts, “you can’t?” he asks, not a question though, only a treat as he sounds like pure poison. one of his hands holds you from your neck harshly enough to make you shake in fear for a moment while the other free one caress your hair - the opposite actions of his two arms gives you a dizzying sensation that takes your logical side from you, giving you pure insanity in return.

“be grateful that I fuck you whore,” his other two hands hold your waist as he makes you move forward and backward, riding you slowly. you only hear your own breaths as if there is nothing left inside your lungs, eyes already blurred that look at his bastard but attractive face, hands standing beside you because you have no brain to use them, not anymore, not after he fucked you in 5 different positions already. “there are thousands of women and men who beg for my cocks, you know that, right brat?” 

his hands move from your waist to your ass, grasping the flesh tightly – too tightly to leave red marks as you believe after feeling a sudden heat rushing to the skin he is holding, however, he doesn’t care at all – why he should anyway? you’re just one of his concubines – maybe his favorite one for the moment, and him showing you mercy and a bit of affection – unlike he does for others – doesn’t mean anything; you’re just there to take his hot semen every now and then, whenever he wants to fuck that pussy and brain of yours so that you can have his legacy inside you, heir to him – lots of heirs.

“puff –“ he says, scoffing after that, picking you up – a pathetic and cuckdumbed woman in his arms, he thinks, gazing at your half-closed eyes, agape mouth – salvia running out of it, “disgusting,” he says in a low tone but contrary to his words, his actions are proof that he likes what he sees because he keeps going and going until his eyes travel from that open mouth of yours he wants to put one of his cocks in, to your breasts full of biting marks that turned to red, moving to your pussy from there.

his cocks’ tips standing beneath your pussy that is pouring his semen ‘cause it is too fucking much.

shaking his head in arrogance, he puts your body on his lap with a bridal style, left hands staying on your back while a free one stays on your pussy, caressing it and he watches how your body begins to shake again, a hand is put on his chest, holding his wide open sleeve’s side tightly as if you have right to do that, and even your head fall into his shoulder, breathing rapidly yet lowly as he holds your body close to him.

why he does that – why he allows you to do that; remains unanswered.

he doesn’t think much, not now, he has a desire to put that damn semen into your wide-open pussy.

holding your thighs apart, his fingers – two long and thick fingers enter into your messy slit, white wetness joins into hot walls one by one, and it continues until sukuna is satisfied with it. “do not fucking dare to move now, woman.” he treats you. he sounds he is one step away from breaking your neck if you do move. you should fear him, you know, oppositely, you do otherwise, giving astonishing state to sukuna, making him freeze for a moment when he feels you getting closer to him, a hand travels on his neck, and a head sits on his shoulder, you even open your legs wider.

you don’t say anything, the mouth is too dry to speak aloud; he gets it though – and that gives satisfaction to him, and his responses end with a new position.

being the definition of menace for desires live within him, and you witness it when he puts you on the carpet, hovering below you as he cages you between his four arms, then, one of them appears on your abdomen, pushing it into the floor – gently yet it feels terrifying.

you look into his crimson eyes, hoping to see sanity inside them – what a fool you’re to try searching.

no, no – you think to yourself, conscious coming back even though you're high – he will not fuck you as a concubine now, he will fuck you as if you’re his queen, you’re so sure of it and the words slipping out of his smirking mouth prove you right.

“I will fuck so many babies inside this womb that you won’t be able to even walk, pretty slut,” a compliment, huh, sounds different than you thought, still, gives a jolt of happiness throughout your entire body that lying beneath his massive body, ready to take him one more – or maybe even more – time.  “I will make a fucking queen out of you with my children. don’t you worry whore,”

the only thing you can remember is seeing his big smile – entertaining before the only thing you can comprehend is his presence below you, behind you, under you – hands conquers every part of your body because you’re his – the one who will give him heir, stay beside him, being a fucking queen of kings of curses. “you’re entirely mine now. mine to have – fuccck! – mine to fuck! and mine to breed.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina !

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: innocence/corruption

words: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, virgin reader, unprotected sex, m and f receiving oral and handjob, daddy kink, lots of pet names including kitten/good girl/princess/baby, corruption kink from rafe but hes still very sweet, one instance of pussy slapping lol, mild degradation, use of slut

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana

“i bet you’re so wet right now.” rafe whispers, sending a shiver down your spine.

“i’m not.” you pout, not even fully understanding what he’s saying, mind still fuzzy from the intense kiss he just gave you.

“liar.” rafe smirks, hands still placed on your waist from when he pulled you onto his lap and flush against his body.

“i’m not a liar!” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowing as rafe just lets out a chuckle.

“you are.” rafe says, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss against your lips, and even though it only lasts seconds, your head begins to feel dizzy again and you lean forward, seeking out more.

“little slut.” rafe whispers as your forehead presses against his shoulder, unable to keep your eyes on his as your chest presses into his. “i can feel your nipples getting hard.” you sit up suddenly, feeling your face get hot as your cheeks blush. you over your breasts with your hands. “they are not.” “move your hands then.” rafe commands, but you press them harder against your chest, willing your nipples to settle down, but when rafe reaches up and rips your hands away, you know he can easily see the hard buds poking out from under the fabric of your shirt.

“i knew it. liar.” rafe cups your breasts, keeping his hands to the outside of them, manipulating them beneath your shirt as the toys with how they sit on your chest.

you should tell him to stop, but you can’t get the words out. rafes thumb suddenly swipes over your nipple and you jump up off his lap.

“now you’re definitely wet.” rafe says, eyes on your pussy that is now level with his face.

“no, i’m not!” you say again, even as you feel something unfamiliar stirring in your stomach. “you’re being a bad boyfriend right now!”

“the only thing that would make me a bad boyfriend, sweetheart, is if i didn’t take care of my girls pussy when it got wet for me.”

“it’s not wet!” you whine, cutting rafe off before he can say something, “and don’t call me a liar again!” rafe closes his mouth in a hum, eyes coming to meet your face. “then show me.” “what?” you question, glancing down your body.

“if you’re not wet, show me your pussy. let me see.” rafe is staring up at you expectantly, and the flame burning inside of you speaks before the logical part of your brain can. 

you humph and pull your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare. rafes eyes widen, expecting a second layer underneath.

“open up, kitten.” rafe taps your thigh, and you spread your tightly clenched thighs just slightly, revealing a mess of sticky wetness. rafe smiles up at you, and you want to cry out of shame and embarrassment, but mostly for lying to your boyfriend about not being sopping wet.

“there. you’ve seen. i’m a liar, now let me put my shorts back o- ahhh!” you let out a scream as rafes hands land on your hips, pulling you closer to the couch he’s sat at as his lips attack to your clit, forcing his head between your legs as they part so you don’t lose your balance. 

“rafe!” you scream, reaching over him and holding onto the back of the couch as he tongue pokes out of his mouth, licking up the wetness you claimed wasn’t there.

you let out a series of moans as he focuses directly on your clit, bringing you a type of pleasure you’ve never felt before. you know in that moment that there’s no going back, no going back to the innocence you once possessed as you reach a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face further into your cunt.

“admit it.” rafe mumbles against your pussy, only pulling away slightly to speak, letting you feel the vibrations of his voice. “admit that me kissing you made you this wet.” “f-fine.” you cry out as his lips wrap around your clit, giving it a suck that makes you see stars. “fine! yes! you got me all wet.”

“you lied.” rafe pulls away fully, and you try to push his head back between your legs, but he won’t let you. “you lied to your boyfriend. i thought you said we would always tell each other the truth.”

you didn’t trust rafe when he first asked you out. you were new to the outer banks and came from a very sheltered life, so when you finally agreed to be his girlfriend, you made sure some rules were put into place. you didn’t even think to include anything about sex, you’ve never experienced it before.

“i’m sorry.” you pout, the shame about the lie now mixing in with how dirty you feel.

“i’ll forgive you, baby.” rafe tugs you down onto his lap, depositing you on his knee so you’re now face to face. “i’ll forgive you if you’re very good for me tonight and do everything i say.” “okay.” you whisper, not wanting rafe to be mad at you. you blink back the tears that have welled up in your eyes, you cunt clenching around nothing as you wish for his mouth back on you again, back delivering the world-changing pleasure.

“good kitten.” rafe says, cupping your cheek and bringing you in for a soft kiss, but you don’t want soft now that he’s shown you so much more. you deepen the kiss, opening your mouth slightly for rafes tongue, granting him permission as your own tongue tangles with his.

you lean forward to get a better angle, but also end up pressing your cunt into his thigh. you moan into his mouth, rocking forward against his jeans, no doubt leaving a large wet spot as you continue to move.

you don’t even realize that rafe has stopped kissing you, sitting back to watch you get yourself off on his leg. you place your hands on his chest, pushing your clit directly into the muscle.

rafe gives his leg a sudden bounce, making your legs widen. you cry out, eyes closing as you grind down.

rafes hands land on your hips, and you hope he’s going to help, but instead he forces you to stop, shifting you so you’re not lined up anymore. “no, rafe, stop-” you whine, opening your eyes to see his stern expression greeting yours.

“dirty sluts get themselves off like this. i thought you were my good kitten, not a dirty slut.” rafe says, making you almost cower at the harshness in his tone.

“i am good.” you pout, sticking out your bottom lip, and rafe can’t hold back the urge to lean forward and bite it, tugging you back into a ravishing kiss, only pulling away when you’re both out of breath.

“good girls also don’t lose their virginity on a couch. let me take you up to bed, princess.” you just nod, standing up off rafes lap, who only lets you stand for a moment until he’s up, sweeping you into his arms.

“wh-what do good girls do when losing their virginity?” you whisper as he climbs the stairs, feeling your face redden again.

“good girls do as their boyfriends say. and you’re gonna do so good honey, no reason to be nervous.” rafe kisses your cheek as he sets you down on his lush bed, closing the door behind him, hoping that will make you feel a bit more comfortable despite being completely alone in the house.

rafe stands next to the bed as he tips your head up, giving you a sweet kiss that has your nerves fluttering away. he smiles down at you, a wickedness shining through, not able to be fully concealed. 

“can you…” you mumble, and then stop, remembering that you’re supposed to listen to your boyfriend, not tell him to do things.

“it’s okay, baby, ask.” rafe asks, giving you the permission you needed to speak.

“can you take your shirt off?” you ask, surprised at your ability to keep eye contact while asking, remembering the time you went out on his boat and rafe took his shirt off, and you were unable to take your eyes off of him.

rafe doesn’t respond with words, instead pulling the tshirt off over his head and tossing it away. he takes your hand in his, placing it on his bare chest, giving you permission to touch.

you glide your hand over his smooth skin, admiring the way his muscles stand out. you move lower, eyes following your fingertips as you feel his abs, moving lower and lower until you get to the hem of his sweatpants. 

you let out a gasp when your eyes finally meet what’s right in front of your face. rafe is straining so hard through his sweatpants that you know it must be painful, the way he’s pushing against the fabric.

“what do… good girls do with this?” you ask, hoping rafe knows what you’re referring to.

“they touch it.” rafe says, taking your hand again and lowering it over his crotch, pressing your palm against his hardness, making him let out a grunt.

“that feels good?” you ask as you begin to rub your hand over it. 

“baby, it feels amazing.” rafe steps back, and you frown, going to ask him if he’s lying about it feeling good if he’s making you stop, but then he grabs his sweatpants and lowers them down, taking his underwear with him.

your eyes widen at the sight in front of you, a primal urge taking over as you reach back out, wrapping your fingers around his thick length. you’ve never seen a cock up close, and definitely not one as beautiful as the one your boyfriend possesses.

“fuck, your hands on me are heaven.” rafe moans, and you feel a flutter in your heart at the praise, beginning to stroke your hand up and down over his shaft, eyes occasionally traveling up to his face to make sure he’s still enjoying your movements.

you try different things, try faster, try slower, you even take your palm and rub it against the end of his cock, making rafe suddenly thrust forward with a moan. you can tell he likes it, but his reaction scares you slightly, so you keep to stroking his length.

“you want to know what else good kittens do?” rafe asks. he smiles when you quickly nod.

“they lick it.” he says, taking a step closer so he’s between your legs, not failing to notice the way your wetness has grown to leave a mark on his bed, but you’re so focused on him that you’ve forgotten the ache in your pussy.

“oh.” you say, leaning forward and taking an experimental lick of the head of his cock. you look up at rafe, swallowing the slightly salty taste that’s left on your tongue. 

“come on.” rafe encourages you, and you lean forward, licking again, relishing in the taste as you continue, covering the head of his cock with spit as you get into the feeling.

once you’re used to it, you begin to move your hand again, stroking it from base right up to his head where you continue exploring with your tongue.

“try sucking.” rafe says, and you only hesitate for a moment before opening your mouth, placing the head of his cock against your tongue. you close your lips over it, surprised how big it feels inside of your mouth.

you give a gentle suck before looking up, not wanting to hurt rafe. “harder.” he commands, and you close your eyes, focusing again as you give him a harsher suck. the moan rafe lets out spurs you to continue, caressing his cock with your tongue inside of your mouth as you continue to suck.

your hand, that was holding him steady at the base, begins to move again, and you develop a rhythm of sucking and stroking him when suddenly rafe pulls away, chest heaving as you swallow the remnants of his taste on your tongue.

“did i mess up?” you ask, making rafe let out a breathy laugh.

“no, baby, not at all. i just almost came.” he explains, reaching to run a hand through your hair.

“oh!” you say, eyes widening. you almost made him orgasm. you knew that was the end goal, but you never realized how good you were doing. you feel a bit of pride grow in your chest at that.

“you know, we can keep practicing until you eventually can suck all of me.” you glance down to his cock, eyes widening, wondering how you’re supposed to fit all of him inside of your mouth. 

“don’t worry now, darling.” rafe ducks and gives your forehead a kiss. “we will work up to it. for now, why don’t you take your shirt off then lay on the bed?” you had forgotten completely about your own pleasure, but at the reminder you realize how hard your nipples have grown, and how the need to have him back between your thighs has only gotten bigger as you sucked him off. 

you shuck your shirt off, no longer feeling as insecure now that rafe is naked. you scooch further up on the bed until you’re able to lay down on the pillows, watching as rafe paces at the end of the bed, eyes never leaving your body as he admires you, admires you like a predator does their prey before taking them down.

“spread your legs.” rafe commands, and you follow his instructions instantly, bearing your pussy to him.

rafe gets onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs. he runs his hands over your legs, trying to control himself, but the need to hear your moans again is too great.

he presses his thumb to your clit, easily rubbing over it due to your slickness. your back arches up off the bed, letting out a cry.

“good kitten, shh.” rafe says, bring his thumb up and sticks it in his mouth, tasting your wetness before quickly reconnecting. “i’m gonna touch you somewhere new.”

you barely register his words, too focused on the way your clit is pulsing with pleasure. your eyes that you hadn’t even realized had slid closed shoot open when the tip of rafes finger presses against your hole.

“rafe!” you squeal. you’ve never had anyone touch you there before.

“remember what i said about good kittens?” he reminds you. you take a deep breath, letting your body relax. you trust your boyfriend, and you need to make up for lying to him earlier. 

“good girl.” rafe presses his finger harder, until it breaks the seal of your hole. he could moan just from the first knuckle being inserted, knowing you’re going to squeeze his cock so tight.

his finger keeps pushing in, and you feel like it’s impossibly long. it’s uncomfortable for a moment, but his thumb continues to move over your clit, and the discomfort changes to pure elation as you feel a high rising over your body.

“stop, rafe, i think i’m gonna pee!” you warn, but his thumb continues to move, and he turns his hand so his finger quirks up, pressing against the spot inside of you that has you tumbling over the edge, entire body arching up as you moan, letting out a slew of words that sound like rafes name mixed with curses, curses that you never let pass your lips but you can’t help it now.

your entire body shakes as you feel wave after wave of pleasure, all from rafes adept hands. he slows his thumb on your clit and eventually stops when it pulses angrily underneath him, but he keeps the singular digit inside of you.

“did i pee?” you ask, afraid to even look down, unsure what just happened.

“no, baby, you just came. you had an orgasm.” rafe explains, placing his freehand on your outer thigh and rubbing it comfortingly.

“that felt…” you don’t know how it’s possible for you to blush anymore, but you do, “that felt really good.”

rafe smiles down at you, “i know honey, and i’m gonna help you feel another one since you’re such a good kitten. and you’re gonna help me cum too.”

“i’m gonna help you feel like that?” you ask, wanting to experience the intense feeling with your boyfriend.

“you are.” he nods. “this is why you’re such a good girl, we are gonna get to do this all the time now. i’ll show you how to orgasm with my cock, and with my tongue.” “i can cum on your tongue?” your eyes widen, remembering the way his soft but skillful tongue felt against you.

“you can.” rafe says, “but first, i need to open your pussy up with my fingers so i can fit my cock inside of you.” “i don’t know if it’s gonna ffffff-” you’re cut off as rafe begins to move his finger again. 

“i’ll fit baby, don’t worry.” rafe says, feeling how good you’ve already opened up for him. your body lays slack against the mattress, and he’s glad that you got to your orgasm so quickly so he can focus on opening you up while you’re relaxed.

he moves until his singular digit pushes easily into you. he looks up to find your eyes closed, taking deep breaths as you attempt to keep your body relaxed, but you do tense up momentarily when a second finger joins in pressing against your entrance.

before you can even freak out, they are both plunging inside of you, moving easier due to your wetness.

“baby girl, you’re making me so proud.” rafe says, and he swears you actually start to glow under his praise. his innocent little girlfriend, somehow managing to remain sweet even as he finger fucks you.

“can you… touch my clit again?” you ask, swallowing thickly.

“no, princess. next time you cum i want it to be on my cock. i’ll touch your clit then.” rafe says, noticing the face you make. “don’t pout or you won’t cum at all.”

you wipe the frown off your face, really wanting to feel what it’s like to orgasm with rafes cock inside you, even if it looks too large.

“i’m gonna scissor my fingers now, kitten.” rafe warns, and you let out a moan as he starts to open up his fingers, pressing them against your walls to make space for himself.

“there you go.” rafe mumbles, eyes on your cunt as you loosen. he can barely stand to wait any longer as he gently pulls his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth to get another taste of you.

“t-time for your cock?” you ask, whispering the last word so quietly that rafe can barely hear you.

“yes, time for my cock. be a good girl and stay relaxed.” rafe considers what position will be best for you before grabbing a pillow that you’re not resting your head against, and moving it to underneath your hips. he moves closer on the bed, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy.

as soon as he brushes your entrance, you tense up.

“hey.” rafe warns, pulling his hips back as he delivers a swift slap to your pussy, right over your clit that has you crying out. “i said relax.” “sorry.” you whimper, taking a deep breath as rafe lines himself up again. he pushes his hips forward, moaning as the head of his cock is concealed by your tight heat, walls constricting him but he’s able to keep moving as you stay relaxed.

“good girl.” rafe praises you as he sinks in, pausing to move at a snail pace when you squirm or make a noise of discomfort.

eventually, his hips are settled right between your thighs, pressed as deeply as they can go. as much as rafe wants to go feral, he doesn’t want to cause you too much pain, so he lets you have a moment to adjust.

“so big inside me daddy.” you whimper, unsure of where the name came from.

“daddy, huh?” the corner of rafes lip quirks up. “maybe you’re not a good girl after are, maybe you are a dirty slut.” “i’m no-oooo!” you scream as rafe beings to move, his hips pulling away and then slamming back in. your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling of his cock moving against your walls, every inch feeling so sensitive.

“you’re not a dirty slut? because this is exactly how dirty sluts behave when they have their daddies cock inside of them.” rafe moves faster when he feels that you’re only getting wetter.

“i wanna be your good kitten.” you whine, hands grasping at the sheets.

“hmm.” rafe slows down so he can feel every inch of you, using his cock to memorize the way you feel around him. “maybe you’re my good girl and my dirty slut. can you be both for me baby?” “i can, i can.” you whine, feeling tears slide down your face. rafe keeps one hand stabilizing your hip and uses the other to swipe his thumb across your cheeks to collect your tears.

“be my slut and my princess. cum on my cock for me.” rafe wants to last longer, he really does, but now that he knows how dirty you can be when he pushes you, especially the way you reacted to him slapping your pussy, he knows this is by far the last time you let him play with your body.

he speeds up, his cock swelling inside of you as he rubs you clit again, as promised. you moan consistently, unable to control your voice as you get closer and closer to the edge, now able to identify the feeling as it hits you hard.

rafes cock hits your insides just right, and you explode at the same time as him, your cunt squeezing repeatedly in your orgasm, milking all of the cum out of him as he shouts your name, releasing himself as deeply as he can.

you are both breathing heavily when rafe falls forward, pressing his body against yours. you whine at the change of position in his cock as he keeps it lodged deep inside of you.

“was i good?” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw as rafe picks his head up.

“you were so good, princess. such a dirty little whore for me.” rafe kisses you in earnest, delighting in the way your lips slide over each others, even more open to the make out now than you were before you had sex. “gonna be your good little slut from now on.” you whisper against his lips, surprised to feel rafes cock twitch inside of you as he rehardens slightly.

rafe presses a deep kiss to your lips, “i know you will, baby. i’m so proud of you.”

[starthecozy]

Kinktober prompt 22: costume

Steve and Eddie going as Morticia and Gomez for Halloween! The lack of hair similarities they make up with a lot of attitude (inprnt)

[lamplightjuniper]

Coping via whump u_u

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Kinktober Day 4 - Lingerie

College!AU - SimonxKyle

CW: Smut, 18+/MDNI, He/They genderqueer Kyle in lingerie, anal sex, dub-con, forced orgasm, pre-nut insanity, post-nut clarity, gross college boys don't clean up after themselves

"Oh fuck, Si-imon." 

Kyle is a mess. He can't feel his legs, can barely keep himself up on his elbows as Simon pushes into him again.

His normally stoic boyfriend had come over after rugby practice with Soap and Roach, like usual. Kyle had taken the afternoon for himself, like he did every week. Unlike last week, Kyle had a new lingerie set under his robe when he'd met them in the kitchen, but besides a lingering glance at the almost sheer stockings, Simon had greeted him, the same as he always did, with a soft kiss to his temple.

Dinner had come and gone. Soap had tried to sneak a peak under Kyle's robe, because he's a perv. Roach had stolen his potatoes while he was distracted. Simon had covered Kyle's exposed bra strap with his robe, then set back into his chicken. Normal.

Well, still waters must run deep because as soon as Kyle's bedroom door closed behind them for the night, Simon pounced.

Now, Kyle's arms do give out. He gasps, "Simon, I can't-! I can't come again!"

"'s okay, beautiful," Simon pants against the back of his neck, pace quickening. One big hand gropes past torn lace to pinch at Kyle's nipple. "'ll get you there, I know you can."

"I really can't," Kyle hiccups. "I'm gonna pass out."

"C'mon, pretty," Simon coaxes. "Got all dressed up for me, you c'n take a little more. 'll help you."

Something on the cheap garter belt pops when Simon pulls out and flips Kyle on his back. Through tears of overstimulation, Simon looks wild eyed, desperate, like Kyle's been teasing him. Certainly, he doesn't look like he's already come three times. Kyle had thought he'd have to do some laundry magic when Simon had spilled his cum between the panties and the garter belt with a bitten back shout, but now? There was nothing left worth saving.

A groan is pushed out of Kyle when Simon almost folds him in half and then pushes back in, hissing from his own oversensitivity. He sobs, he can't help it. One of his flailing arms grips the sheets and pulls, trying to get away.

"Where'd'ya think y're goin'?" Simon growls, setting his knee on the bed and yanking Kyle back into himself. He laughs, breathless. "One more, 'n you c'n kick me out."

"D'n't wanna kick you out," Kyle slurs.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Simon's thrusts become even harder. "No? Wanna let me ruin your pretty things s'more? God, lookit'chu. Pretty stockin's, lace all ripped up. Fuck. Wanted t' bend y'over in the kitchen, almost gave the lads a show, fuck, y're so pretty, baby. C'n feel you workin' up, gonna come for me one more time, gonna come in your pretty panties for me again?"

"Si!"

"Yeah, say my name when you come," he groans. He wraps his hand around Kyle's cock, rough palm tearing the lace even more. He whines, then, hand sliding in Kyle's cum from a previous orgasm. "Oh fuck, Kyle, y're so wet, babe, yeah, come for me, one more time, wanna feel it-"

The roaring in Kyle's ears drowns out whatever else Simon is saying as his whole body locks up. He comes dry, and it feels so good it hurts. He thinks he wheezes some approximation of Simon's name, but he can't even hear himself think at this point, vision going white around the edges as Simon grunts his own release, again.

(When they both come to, half an hour later, Simon goes so red Kyle is worried he'll pass out again. Whatever loosened his brain-to-mouth filter is long gone, and he only gets more consumed by embarrassment when Kyle tells him to just throw the barely held together pieces of lace in the trash.

Kyle puts another set in his online cart before passing out.)

(They both stick to the sheets in the morning.) 

[chubsette]

Feedist Kinktober - Bloodsucker 🩸

[erenthology]

He loves the kind of woman that would actually just k!ll him (quick drabble)

When you scolded his teammates for not picking up after themselves after dinner, he realized something about himself. “We’re sorry” they said in unison. Eren just stared you up and down with craving eyes.

“Dude, your girl is kind of scary.” They muttered as you walked off to the bathroom. He knows…intently following your retreating figure with his eyes.

When he first approached you at a frat party, offering to help carry your drinks, maybe with the intent to take you back to his place later that night..you left him speechless with your glowering glare, muttering explosives at him.

He was stunned as he watched you walk away.

“Poor girl would rather walk spill her drinks than speak with you.” Jean snickered. But Eren just grinned.

It took him a while to get you to warm up to him, but the chase was worth it. Turns out, you’re just a soft cinnamon bun once you let your walls down. For someone who claims she hates cuddles, you sure want cuddles. He loves you, and especially that mouth of yours.

He doesn’t mind when you calmly give him the look if he’s acting up, your sharp tongue, or your quick comebacks. In fact, he loves when you speak up for him if his order is wrong before he gets the chance to, or rather aggressively cheer for him at his games, that in particular makes him blush ever so lovingly. He almost gets shy. Meanwhile you’re swooning over your beast boyfriend smashing 220 pound guys down on the field. Unaware he’s doing the most to impress his girl.

He remembers being taken aback once. You had slapped a stranger who catcalled you. Eren was away buying you ice scream, strictly ordering you to stay within his line of vision since the carnival was “dangerous”. So when he noticed the situation, rushing with the intent of smashing the guys face in, he nearly dropped the ice cream as he witnessed your hand connecting with roaches face. Proudly observing you with gleam in his eyes.

Eren admits it, he’s attracted to intiminating women. He doesn’t know when it started, might’ve been with you. Now that he thinks about it, every girl he used to chase after before you was reserved and timid. Either way, all he knows is every time you let out that side of you, his pants feel tighter.

You come back from the bathroom, noticing the guys picked up after themselves. Finally, you thought.

“Hey Eren, can we get dessert?”

He stands up and grabs you by the loops of your belt, pulling your hips flush against his.

“Can’t you sit on my face first?” face to face spooning you, about to add a “please,” but you smirked and got down on your knees instead. He quickly looked around, “we’re in the living room, the guys might walk come back in.” he stresses.

“Let them.” and Eren swears that one day you’ll give him a heart attack. His girl is a freak, the thought makes him grin.

“Only if you sit on it later.” he was not below begging for it. He actually wouldn’t mind going out by you sitting on his face, it would make him die a happy man.

[caroldantops]

baby, it's cold outside

ship: dark!agatha harkness x female!reader

summary/request:  darkfic; you're invited to agatha's christmas party, but you're afraid to make a move. lucky for you, agatha is more than willing to take things into her own hands.

word count: 3396

dead dove do not eat - this fic contains dark elements including rape/non-con, drugging, hints of victim blaming. proceed at your own discretion.

other warnings: non-magic au, smut (18+), top!agatha, praise, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), light pain play (agatha slaps reader's body once), i think this qualifies as whump, pet names (darling, good girl, baby, and a couple more)

(I genuinely feel like I'm missing some important warnings so let me know if you think there's something i should add here)

masterlist | ao3 link

The wind practically knocks you over as you try to climb up the few stairs up Agatha’s porch. Christmas lights twinkle in the darkness, illuminating the snow that’s gently falling. Your mittens do little to block the cold, hands shaking as you reach up to knock on the door. 

The fog from your breath hangs in the air as the door swings open. Alice greets you with a sweet smile. “Hey, you! You made it! Come in, come in, it’s freezing out here.” 

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping in and sighing with relief as warmth envelops you. “I like your sweater.” 

“Fun, right?” Alice closes the door behind you, posing so you can see her sweater in full. It has a cute silhouette of a witch on a broomstick, being pulled by a group of reindeer. “Kind of a mash-up of holidays. Speaking of outfits, you look amazing tonight.” 

“I think I’m overdressed, to be honest,” you laugh as you shed your coat. You definitely regretted asking Jen of all people for outfit comparisons - she always overdressed for any occasion, and it made you lean towards a velvety black dress. Like Alice, it seems like the other guests milling around are dressed more casual. “Maybe I should just grab my sweatshirt from my car or something.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Jen says as she approaches you. Seeing the sparkly, emerald green dress she’s wearing gives you a bit of relief. At least you don’t stand out the most here. Flying under the radar was usually your go-to. The only reason you even dared come to a party hosted by someone you barely know was from Jen and Alice convincing you that it would be fun. 

Jen soon gets distracted by gossiping with Lilia, but Alice is kind enough not to abandon you. The party is actually pretty nice, despite your initial hesitance to even show up. There’s not very many people crammed into the house - just enough that it feels cozy and chatter fills the space. 

The weather outside starts getting worse through the night, unbeknownst to you as you’re tucked into the cozy library with a few others who prefer the quieter atmosphere. 

Though the night is still young, people have started slowly leaving, claiming that they want to get ahead of the inclement weather. You start to wonder if maybe you should leave a bit early as well, but Alice assures you that if it gets particularly bad, you can stay at her place since she’s much closer. So, you put that thought aside and just enjoy your evening. 

While you’re telling Alice about a weird customer that keeps showing up at the coffee shop you work at, your eye catches a glimpse of the host for the first time tonight as she waltzes into the room. 

Agatha Harkness. The older woman is dressed in a blood-red sweater and simple dress pants, some elegant rings and necklaces sparkling under the light. She’s talking to Jen and Lillia, the former of whom being the reason you even knew Agatha. You’d only talked a couple of times when Jen would drag Agatha along on a coffee run, but you’d always been a bit enamored with her beauty. 

You weren’t even really sure what she did for work - and if your friends knew they’ve never filled you in. All you knew is that she was a very powerful woman, with very powerful connections. Even Jen, who was frankly unintimidated by most people, had to admit that Agatha was a bit scary. 

What Agatha wanted, she got. And if something tried to stop her, there would be hell to pay. 

Alice nudges you, giving you a knowing look. 

“What?” You roll your eyes at her. 

“You’re painfully obvious, you know that right?” Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her face. “Go say hi.” 

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt their conversation…” The end of your sentence trails off as piercing blue eyes meet your gaze. Instincts tell you to look away, but some unknown feeling overrides that. 

Time seems to stand still as you mull over how little you know Agatha and how much you’d like to know. She regards you, blatantly ignoring the conversation she’s supposed to be participating in. Eyes scanning you, calculating. 

Maybe even hungry. 

With that thought, you’re the first one to break, pulling out your phone to fake distraction. With your gaze now averted, you miss Agatha’s lips quirk up in a smirk. She watches as you turn back to Alice, clearly flustered, and clearly not intending on making any sort of move. 

Lucky for you, she’s more than happy to take things into her own hands. 

“Alice,” Agatha’s booming voice cuts through the noise of the party. Alice looks up as Agatha struts over, boots thumping on the floor with determined purpose. “Would you be a dear and keep those two from starting a karaoke session? They’re both about one glass of red away from breaking into Mariah Carey, and frankly I’d rather risk walking across a frozen lake right now.” 

Alice rolls her eyes, but gets up to go make sure the others behave. Agatha sighs, plopping into the now empty seat next to you. Her nimble fingers trace the rim of the wine glass she’s been nursing. “Jen said you’d be coming.” 

“Oh, she did?” 

Stupid. Of course she did, she told you she would. In your nervous fumble, you reach for the drink Alice got you earlier. It’s remained almost untouched so far, but you’re desperate for an excuse to not talk. 

And, in a true feat of spectacular coordination, you manage to knock it into your lap. 

“Shit!” You groan. 

“Oh, dear,” Agatha juts her lip out in sympathy. “On such a pretty dress too! Come on, I’ll help you clean up.” 

You take a couple of napkins and blot ineffectively at the stain. “It’s okay, this is enough to dry it at least…” 

“Nonsense,” Agatha scoffs, putting her own glass down and standing up. You look at her, puzzled as she just stands there, before you realize she’s expecting you to follow. She starts leading you through the house, down the halls that no guests were allowed in. “We don’t want that to leave a stain, I have a couple of things that should help.” 

“Thank you, Agatha, really,” you say, trying not to analyze all the decor and photos that you pass as she leads you. 

You end up being led down to the basement, carefully descending the creaky wooden stairs. The dwindling party can be heard above you, muffled music and footsteps reminding you that you’re not completely alone with Agatha. 

Agatha shuffles some stuff around, looking through the bins near her washing machine. “Dear, do you have your phone on you? My eyes aren’t great in this darned dim basement light.” 

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and pass it to her, waiting patiently as she rummages around. “Aha!” 

Her grin is illuminated by the light of your phone, and you can’t help but smile - it’s infectious. She motions for you to come closer, turning on the nearby sink. 

“Alright, give me your dress for a second.” 

“What?” Your smile fades, and you recoil back in surprise. 

“Your dress, it’ll be easier for me to clean if you just take it off,” Agatha says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She analyzes your face, and you practically see the thoughts turning in her head as your own brain fumbles for what to do. “Here, one second.” 

She grabs a couple of things from a laundry basket - a t-shirt and some sweatpants - and hands them to you. “Switch these out, and then I’ll clean your dress off.” 

You nod, taking the clothing and changing as fast as you possibly can. Your head gets stuck in the shirt for a moment, and you miss the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your bare torso and lacy bra. As your head pops out, she quickly turns her attention to your dress, rinsing it and applying some cleaning product, rubbing the fabric gently in her hands. 

“Ugh,” Agatha groans suddenly. 

“What’s wrong? Not coming out?” 

“No, the stain came out fine, but I think I wet it too much. It’s soaking, you can’t go out in this. I’ll hang it up to dry, but it’s gonna take a while,” Agatha ponders as she grabs a hanger. “You’re more than welcome to just keep those clothes for now.” 

“Oh, okay,” you say, playing with the end of the shirt. You’re resisting the urge to rub your nose against the fabric - even after having been washed it seems to smell like Agatha. “Thanks again.” 

“Of course, sweetheart, I’m happy to help,” Agatha beams. “I’m going to get this dress set up to dry, you go back upstairs and enjoy yourself. I’ll be right behind you.” 

When you get back upstairs, you realize that most of the guests have left. In fact, it seems like it’s just your friends left. Even the neighbors who live just down the street have retired for the night.

Alice spots you approaching and sighs with relief. “There you are! I was trying to find you. I’m going to need to take Jen and Lilia home. They’re in no state to drive. What are you wearing?” 

“Oh, I spilled my drink, Agatha’s hanging up my dress to dry,” you say, clearly embarrassed. Alice, the saint that she is, does not take the opportunity to tease you for being in Agatha’s clothes. 

“Gotcha.” A loud thump comes from the other side of the room, and you both look over to see Jen picking Lilia up off the floor, both of them drunkenly giggling. Alice sighs, “You’re good to drive, right? They live on the opposite side of town from my place, so if you do need me to pick you up on my way back, just call me okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” you assure her. “I didn’t get a chance to drink anything before I spilled it on myself. I’m just going to thank Agatha for helping me out and then probably head out.” 

“Okay, be safe. And seriously, call me if you need anything.” 

“I will, I will,” you instinctively reach for your phone to see that it’s charged enough, but you realize you must have left it downstairs. The trio leaves in a whirlwind, and suddenly you’re left alone. 

Well, not completely alone. 

“Good grief, did everyone decide to do an Irish goodbye?” Agatha returns from the basement and immediately makes her way to the kitchen to make herself a drink. She sees you standing awkwardly and nods at the sofa. “Take a load off, honey. Your dress will probably at least be dry enough to wear comfortably in a little while. Might as well enjoy the fireplace while you wait.” 

You hear her humming to herself from the other room, and you gaze contentedly at the crackling fire, curling your legs under you. The wind outside rattles the windows. You gasp as you look outside for the first time in a while. It’s started snowing so hard that it’s hard to see, and you can tell that it’s piling up on the streets. 

“Shit, I should really try to get home,” you start to stand up, but a firm hand is placed on your shoulder, and a warm mug is shoved in your hand. You give Agatha a confused look as she sits next to you, a steaming mug in her own hand. 

“Honey, it’s getting real bad out there. Alice said you live across town, yeah?” Agatha says, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I think it’s a bit too late to try to start driving. Good thing is, the other ladies probably made it at least back to Lilia’s place by now. They’ll probably huddle up there for the night.” 

“Yeah…How am I going to get home though?” You look at the drink Agatha handed you, realizing it’s not alcohol but hot chocolate, the top foamy with already melting whipped cream. You take a sip, sighing as the warmth fills your body. 

As you ponder your options, you take a few more sips. Agatha wipes the whipped cream that catches on your upper lip with a napkin, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close she is. You kind of want to shift away, but your body feels heavy, and the way she’s looking at you has you paralyzed. 

“Stay here,” Agatha whispers, breath dancing against your skin. “You can drive home in the morning once they clear the streets.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you shake your head, taking another big sip of your drink, frowning as you realize you’ve almost hit the bottom. “I can figure something out…” 

“Doubt any cabs are out tonight.” 

“Seriously, Agatha, I appreciate the offer, but I should probably go,” you start to stand up, but are hit with a sudden dizziness, and immediately sit back down. “Woah…”

“You okay, baby?” Agatha asks, but her voice doesn’t sound concerned. Or surprised. 

Your stomach churns a bit. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the lights all suddenly feel way too bright. “I don’t know. Was there alcohol in this drink?” 

“Not a drop,” Agatha answers. 

“I dunno what’s wrong then,” you mumble, your words are slurred. Desperately, you try to put the pieces together and figure out what’s wrong, but everything feels muddled now. 

“Maybe you ate something bad earlier? Here, lay down on the couch, baby.” 

When did she start calling you that? You try to respond, but the words come out too muddled to understand. Agatha guides you onto your back, your head resting on a throw pillow. All of your muscles feel simultaneously heavy and weak, and you need Agatha to guide you down so you don’t just flop like a fish. 

“Agatha,” your word comes out as a strangled whine. “What’s happening?” 

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Agatha says, her voice deep. She’s hovering over you, and you feel a shudder run through your body as she hits you with that hungry look again. 

Wait. 

The only thing you’ve drank tonight was what Agatha made you, but…she wouldn’t have. 

Right?

If your eyes didn’t feel so heavy, you’re sure they would’ve looked up at her wide in sudden realization. Nevertheless, it seems like she reads the change in expression on you, the shift from confusion to sudden fear. Agatha laughs, low and menacing. 

“So cute. I was almost worried that I wouldn’t even get the chance. But thank god for the others leaving early, hm?” The shirt Agatha gave you is tugged up, and her thumb catches your bra as well, pulling both articles of clothing over your chest in one motion. You try to wiggle away with what little strength you have, but Agatha shifts quickly, straddling your thighs and keeping you in place. 

“Pretty tits,” Agatha says, and you don’t know if she’s speaking to you or herself. 

“Ag’tha.” 

“Shh, darling. Just let it happen,” Agatha’s face hovers over yours, her pupils blown out and dark, and your stomach twists as you realize how much this is turning her on. Drugged and delirious, you’re at her complete mercy. And she couldn’t be happier. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I don’t break my toys. Not permanently, anyway.” 

Agatha’s lips press against yours, and she doesn’t even care that you’re too weak to reciprocate. She grips your chin with one hand to keep you in place, her soft lips peppering your face with kisses. It would be sweet, in any other context. You’re sure that her shiny red lipstick is all over your face, and that it’s leaving a red trail as she drags her lips down your neck. 

Her teeth sink in, and you give up your feeble attempts at fighting it. Agatha must feel you go completely limp (well, more limp than you already were), because she chuckles against your skin as she soothes the bite with her tongue. 

“Good girl. So good when you let me give you what you need.” 

The drugs in your system make it hard to register what’s happening. Agatha’s hands are on you, but you’re unable to keep up with every pinch and grope as she explores your body. A sharp tug of your nipples is enough to give you a jolt of awareness, and you moan pathetically in response, your body betraying you. 

“Oh, you like being hurt?” Agatha tugs again and gives your tit a sharp slap as well. You groan, drool starting to drip from your lips. “Dirty girl. Bet your pussy is fucking wet too.” 

She slips her hand under the waistband of your pants, nimble fingers finding your damp cunt. Her mouth opens in a dramatic gasp. “I was right! You like this, huh?” 

You babble nonsense in response, your no’s coming out incoherently. 

“What was that? You love it? Aw, baby, you flatter me,” Agatha kisses you again, not caring about the trail of drool on your cheek. She pushes her fingers into you, meeting some resistance as you’re not quite wet enough to take her so quickly. Your hips twist as the feeling of her fingers dragging against the walls of your cunt makes you flinch. “Take it, take it like a good girl for me. This is what you wanted, right? You were so obvious, with all that staring and how nervous you got around me. You were practically begging for this.” 

“Don’t…” 

“Found your voice again, it seems. Probably not for long.” Agatha clicks her tongue, shrugging as she shuffles down your body, tugging your pants down enough that your cunt is exposed. She kisses down your mound, groaning as she reaches her prize. Nose nudging your clit, she inhales your scent and moans, the vibrations close enough that your clit throbs in response. “Fuck.” 

All the sensations are reduced to vague feelings as Agatha starts to lick you in earnest. Warm. Wet. Feels good. Darkness clouds your vision as you start slipping in and out of consciousness. Fingers again, prodding at your hole. Thrusting in, curling, working you better than anyone ever has. When did she slip a third finger in? 

“Come on, baby, want you to cum all over my fingers,” She mumbles against your clit before flattening her tongue against it, fingers curling against your sensitive walls again. 

Your body shudders, but you can’t even tell if it was an orgasm. The woman you’ve been lusting after is fucking you through climax, and you’re not even going to remember it. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll forget this whole thing. Or at least enough to deny it. 

Because as fucked up as it is, some pathetic, yearning part of you still wants Agatha. She’s drugged and taken advantage of you, yet there’s a part of you hoping that this isn’t a one time situation, that she’ll still want you when you’re fully awake and able to enjoy yourself. 

God, there’s not enough therapy in the world to even start to tackle that, you think.

Suddenly you realize you’re crying, salty tears hitting your tongue as you breathe heavily. Agatha crawls back up your body, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. We’re done. You did so, so good for me.” 

“Good?” 

“Yes, very good,” Agatha kisses the tears from your cheeks. She rearranges your clothes so that you won’t get cold, and pulls a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over both of you. The position is awkward, since you can’t really move much, but she manages to squeeze herself into a space where she can hold you. “C’mere, darling. You took that so well. Let me hold you, pretty.” 

“Aggie,” you mumble against her skin when she pulls you against her chest, unable to conjure her full name. 

“Yes?” Agatha hums, stroking your hair. 

“Why?” 

Silence falls over the two of you for a moment as Agatha lets the question hang in the air. You can feel her heart thumping, feel the way her hands stroke soothing circles into your skin. The last thing you hear before you finally fall into a deep sleep is her voice. 

“Darling, I always get what I want.”

[elsecrytt]

Kinktober Day 5

Prostate Massage | Blindfold | Cages

Pairing: Satoru Gojo X Reader

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, yandere/controlling behavior, drugging, captivity, panic attack

He’s missing again.

This is more surprising than one might think – Gojo, for all his whimsical tendencies, doesn’t typically slack on exorcizing curses.

It’s why they think he’s just going off the grid for a bit to take care of some other business – goodness knows he drags in enough sorcerer children to the school.

But it’s been a while, and no one’s heard from him.

If he had meant to defect, he would surely have done it when Suguru Geto was still alive. So this must be another fit of arrogance, running off and doing whatever he pleased. It was annoying, but who could stop him? He was, after all, the strongest sorcerer in the world.

Certainly, no one was expecting to find Satoru Gojo in a cage inside your basement.

You’re not a sorcerer, after all. No one Satoru knew or had ever known would even know your name, much less where you live and that Satoru was with you.

You don’t even bother visiting him for the first few days. There’d be no point. He’d try to convince you this was a bad idea (it probably was) and to let him go (you absolutely could not, not under any circumstances). He probably wouldn’t lie – you never thought him to be the type, even if his life were truly on the line – but nothing he said would be of any use to you.

He’d already said enough when under the influence of those helpful substances you slipped him. You’d gone through a few before you found one that made him pliable enough to repeat the words you needed.

A binding vow. One that would keep him here, and keep him tame, for as long as you wanted.

Oh, you’re sure he was terribly confused for those first few days. Wondering what kind of curse or curse technique had him trapped in there. Poor baby was probably bored to death, too, if anything you knew about him was correct.

But it would take a while to get to him, to get him to the place he needed to be. And you had all the time you needed.

After all, good things come to those who wait.

You open the door, a thrill in your heart at the thought of just how excited Satoru Gojo is going to be to see you.

The worst part is, you’re right.

Satoru’s been stuck in here for three days now. He is, frankly, bored. Worse than bored. He’s sort of going insane.

It’s not like he needs to use the restroom, or even eat. Sorcerers – anyone who could use reverse curse technique, really – had ways to suspend bodily functions and stuff like that, for use on long missions, in extreme environments, or domains with weird effects.

So, no. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, he doesn’t need to use the restroom. That’ll catch up with him eventually, of course, but it’s not a problem right now.

The problem right now is that someone was powerful enough to trap him in here, had some weird power that stopped him from escaping, but they just. Left him.

All. Alone. In the dark. Even with the six eyes, it was dark in here. He can tell where the door is, but the light level is far beneath what a normal human could see. There’s almost no sound. No cursed energy at all. Nothing interesting in the room to stare at, nothing moving.

It was a weird, surreal sort of experience, for about ten minutes. Hard to tell even how much time was passing. Just the sound of his breath and the thoughts knocking around in his head. He didn’t get time like this often, didn’t just sit down and think. It cleared his head in a strange way – no more migraines, no more constant analyses from his six eyes, no more reverse curse technique constantly healing his brain.

Like taking off a weight he hadn’t noticed was there to begin with. He felt lighter, so many physical demands suddenly lifted from his body. A breath of fresh air.

Fresh air got old pretty fast, when most of his thoughts kept coalescing on Why can’t I use my curse technique and What the hell is going on? At first, there was even fear, too – he wasn’t totally crazy – but after that?

This is just boring. He’s never been so bored in his entire life. His brain feels like it’s rattling in his skull, waiting to drop out the next time he tilts his head. Satoru is about ready to start banging it against the bars just to have something to listen to.

So when you open the door, light suddenly flooding in from a crack (it’s bright enough to make him wince, with his eyes), Satoru Gojo is entirely focused on you, in an instant. Taking in every single detail about your body, your voice, your cursed energy and cadence.

It’s amazing, how much you can learn when you pay attention.

He learns that you’re not a sorcerer. That he’s not kept here by any curse technique or tool – rather, it’s by a binding vow. One that only you can release. You’d drugged him through his infinity using a knockout gas and gotten his half-conscious self to repeat specific words to make the vow.

He learns you think you’re doing this to help him, save him.

“I just don’t think you’re that strong. I mean, it was easy enough for me to get you like this, right? And I’m not a sorcerer at all.”

His eyes are fixed on you like shattered sapphires. You’re insane – you must be – but it isn’t every day some insane person manages to get one over on him.

Maybe the reason you were able to get this far with him was because you were so crazy.

“For your whole life, you’ve had to be strong.” Your eyes soften; he can discern your features on a microscopic level, the tiny flecks of warmth and concern, “But you aren’t. And you don’t have to try anymore. I’ll protect you.”

Something weird twists in his guts.

There’s lots of kinds of crazy in Jujutsu sorcerer. He’s no stranger to it. But this kind of crazy? He’s never seen it before.

Love is the most twisted curse of them all.

And that is what you tell him, that you love him. You continue by telling him all sorts of funny things – that you’re taking care of him now, getting him back on track, this is for his own good, yada yada.

It’s definitely crazy person speak, but it’s new and refreshing that it’s directed towards him. And maybe because it’s so novel and fun, he goes ahead and sits back and enjoys it.

Like, he tries to tell you he’s important. People to protect, students to teach, all that stuff. You just dismiss him, tell him he’s weak, tell him he doesn’t know what’s best for him. He wasn’t meant for sorcery – his life will be better, now.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes with a belated horror, that this is what he sounds like to other people.)

 It’s funny, though, it is. He laughs at you (you smile, though, because you’re delusional like that, even if you can tell he’s mocking you), at the thought that he could be meant for anything but sorcery.

And hey, it’s not like he’s got anywhere to be. Anywhere he can be. He’ll give it a try.

Although it’s not so much a try as endure the very carefully calculated daily plans you lay out for him. You’ve got a lot of free time – probably some work-from-home position – and a lot of money, too.

(Great taste in body wash also. Amber and honeysuckle or something. He’ll have to remember it when he gets out of here.)

The room he’s in is special in that it’s painted a gentle off-white color, and sparsely decorated. His little cage is large enough to fit him just sitting down, tall as he is, and it’s large enough for a cot in the corner. It’s kind of cozy, he’ll admit, in a camping kind of way.

When you send him to bed – yes, like an actual child – he finds out the cot is a lot softer than he’d expected, some kind of memory foam he’s never tried. The sheets are extra cooling, the pillow feels like a dream, the room is pitch black and chilly. It only takes him a few minutes of moody contemplation to start drifting off after he lays down.

Sleep training, you’d called it. Satoru’s pretty sure he’d be offended if he actually knew what it was.

“You have your healing powers, sure,” (when he’d interrupted you to tell you it was reverse curse technique you’d paused and waited out his explanation like a champ), “But there’s no substitute for a good eight hours of sleep, Satoru.”

Your voice is stern and laden with something he can’t quite get, but it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll be out soon.

It’s interesting, lying down inside the cage. This room is so small. It’s all fitted just for him, perfectly sized to leave neither empty space nor squeeze him too tight. His world is reduced to this cage and the things you choose to put in it.

He’s quick to complain about the boredom, but you don’t mind his whining. You actually hook up several game consoles to a small TV set carefully placed at head height for him, sitting up, with controllers you hand him through the bars.

“I’ll have to limit your screen time – it’s not good for your eyes. It’s probably even worse for the six eyes. So I’ve got a collection of books here, and an e-reader, so you can get anything you want. Oh! I’ve also brought some puzzles.”

Yaaawwwn. You don’t even flinch at his exaggerated expression of boredom, promising instead to find more complex puzzles online to entertain him. Rubik’s cubes, jigsaws – these things bored him. He put everything together right away.

You find a puzzle made in braille, one that has to be put together by touch. Brain teasers that required out-of-the-box thinking… you’d even brought him a jigsaw puzzle with a mixed up image printed on it, one that couldn’t be put together by the visuals at all. He had to hand it to you, that was neat.

There’s almost an amusement in watching how diligent you are about finding things to entertain him with. The video games, the books, the puzzles, some TV, too. He’s half worried that you stole his collection of movies, but it turns out you just have some streaming services. It’s fun enough to kill time. Human Earthworm 4 really was garbage.

You laugh when he tells you so. Your defense of the dumb movie is that it was half-parody (you are correct), and he tells you with a sniff that you have no taste, and you laugh, and his stomach feels funny.

Clearly the isolation is getting to him, if you feel like decent company.

He takes meals with you, too, and you’re particular about them. No more mochi for breakfast and dinner, no more coffee at all actually – “It’ll interfere with your rest,” – instead, you make him eat ‘real food’.

Complete, home-cooked, admittedly delicious meals. They’re all way more palatable than most things he eats, all foods he likes, he ends up liking… at first he didn’t want to try, but you’d dangled so many sweet looking deserts over his head – specially made mochi, fresh souffles and macarons, carefully crafted crystal candies.

Ugh, you know way too much about him. And you look so pleased with yourself, too. He wonders if you make them yourself – so he asks, and watches your face blush lightly, watches you smile, eyes softening as you look at him in that way he doesn’t get.

Isolation. It’s getting to him. Definitely.

“And of course, I’ll be here to allow you socialization time. We could play games together, or if you want, we could read the same books? Or just talk, if you like. I’m not letting you out, but I’d be happy to hear about your life from before, your likes and dislikes. You can make requests, too!”

Normally he’d be all like “No way, creepy kidnapper,” seriously. But to be honest, he’s kind of looking forward to a chance to pick your brain.

You seem all too happy to oblige. Delighted that he’s taking an interest in you, which is kinda cute and pathetic, since it’s totally not what’s happening. He just wants to know how the hell you got to be so fucking weird.

“I think love makes us all a little crazy, don’t you? As for why I love you, Satoru… well. I couldn’t pick only one reason. Suffice to say, I’m really happy to be talking to you now. It probably sounds weird to you, but being around you just these past few days has been awesome for me. Being around you just brings me so much joy. I want to make it good for you, too!”

Yeah, to be honest, it’s really weird how accommodating you are. You let him out for bathroom breaks at regular intervals – he’s still not sure why you put him in the cage at all –

“Oh, the cage? That’s for your benefit, not mine. Obviously this room is locked. But I think you… it’s difficult to explain. But your awareness of the space around you is warped somehow. I constantly see you nap in awkward places, sit or lean in positions that would stress your body out, zone out from your surroundings. I think it’s important to reset your senses.”

It’s creepy at this point. Or it would be, if it hadn’t blown wayyy past that part.

He likes that you don’t press him much. You just confess your love and go on about your day. No expectations, no freak outs. You’re crazy but you’re obviously not so crazy you think he loves you back. You just think you’re trying to do the right thing by him, which is like, really sweet, in a super weird and demented way.

Satoru had already decided that he doesn’t want to go after you once he gets out of here. You’re not malevolent, even if some distant part of his mind knows that people are dying while he’s chilling out in here.

No, you’re just lonely, and you’ve somehow attached yourself to him with this completely delusional idea that you understand him on a deeper level, and you wanted to protect him. Wasn’t that sweet? The cutest thing?

He can’t really bring himself to be mad at you. Not when you’re probably the only person on earth who’s ever thought this about him, who tried to do something about it. And it’s a damn good try, he’ll give you that.

The cage really isn’t that small. It’s comfortable in here, actually, it’s nice. It’s simple and easy in a way that would be boring if you didn’t give him company, entertainment, meals. The bed is so easy to fall asleep in, he has more energy waking up, he’s happier,

He gets where you’re coming from. You’re still totally insane, of course, but he sees the idea behind it. It’s not the space that he’s in. It’s what’s happening in that space.

It’s his time. And you seem to have so many ways to occupy it.

He starts thinking about you more and more. It gets weirder. He runs into you fresh out of the shower, no clothes on, watches the blush on your face and feels himself –

No. No, no no. It’s not a big deal. It’s whatever. He knew you were crushing on him. You’d made absolutely no secret of your feelings, and he knows the attraction is there, he can tell.

So maybe he sneaks in a hand job or two during these lonely nights. Purely for fun. It’s your fault for not stimulating him enough!

Are you watching on camera? That’s what all the stalkers do. You’re totally a stalker, you know way too much about him. You have all his skincare, shampoo, and conditioner in the bathroom.

You’re totally watching him. He licks his lips while he jerks himself. If he listens hard enough he can hear your breath in the other room.

(Turns out you’re all the way down the hall, but he’s got the six eyes, not the six ears.)

He could put on a show for you, even. His dick gets harder at the thought. He wonders if you’ve thought about this. If you watch him in the cage touching himself. If you want to be in here with him. In the room, or in the cage.

Would you want to touch? The thought absolutely tickles him, has him twitching in his hands, licking his lips. Would you want him so badly? You’re so dedicated, so diligent about his welfare. He could just imagine your pretty lips opening right up, how hot and wet your mouth would be, how those eyes of yours would look at him, always so full of care and affection.

Your hair looks soft, silky even – what would it feel like in his hands? Are you so crazy for him you’d let him fuck your face, or would you guide him through it, like you guide him through everything?

A pulse, another pulse, throbbing in his fist. Your hands would be smaller, softer. What would they feel like on his bare skin? He’s gotten more skin-to-skin contact these paste few weeks than the past ten years. What would you feel like on him? How would you touch him, where?

How would you look at him? He thinks of your face – of your eyes when you smile at him – he feels a squeeze –

When he cums, he does it with an exaggerated moan, head tilted back, lips wide and open. Spurting all over his hand as he makes a little blissful sigh.

He looks up, where he imagines a camera might be, eyes half-lidded. Smirk fighting to tear his lips as he closes them around his fingers, licking them clean.

Maybe you weren’t watching, but that doesn’t stop him. Not from giving you looks the next day.

There’s something in his chest. Wobbling around. Something knocked loose. He finds himself waiting for you to visit, impatient between meals. Demanding. You give, and give of course, but you never give any indication that you’ve seen what he did.

Actually… that was probably his way out.

He tries to proposition you, of course. Lays it on thick. But you hesitate to accept. You blush, and he thinks cute, he thinks he’s got you, but you act like you’re too good for him or something, like you’re not sure if you really want to be with him.

Like you’re too good to be seduced by him? When you fucking kidnapped him in the first place? You don’t want to come in here in the cage you put him in?

It makes him acidic. The rattling in his chest feels like the rattling in his head, only, his tolerance has gotten so much lower.

It’s not long before he snaps at you.

“What?” He says cruelly, words escaping him without his will, “You didn’t think I liked you or anything, did you?”

There’s something mean in his voice, something awful that curdles in his chest. He brandishes it like a sword. Swinging at you, carving sorrow over your features.

“You fucking kidnapped me.” The words come as a surprise even to him, but it was true, wasn’t it? “I’m not here willingly. You’re keeping me here against me will, you’re not helping me. Did you think I’d forget?”

(He can’t even convince himself of that lie. He knows he’d forgotten.)

You look at him, something strange in your eye.

“…If you want to leave, then leave.” You say, and he feels it, like the click of a lock, the crunch of a shackle. How the Binding Vow unwinds in an instant. “I’m not going to drag you back. It’s pointless to keep you here if you hate it so much.”

He tells himself he darted straight out. He didn’t hesitate for a single moment.

But he can’t tell himself that he didn’t look back. That would be too blatant a lie.

He tries not to think about the look on your face, empty and indifferent. He tries not to think about how it felt like a knife to his chest.

And just like that, he’s back. And –

“Gojo? About time you showed up. There’s several special grades waiting for you to exorcise. Where the hell were you? Okkotsu has barely been able to help out your other students.”

His students. His precious students, the ones who needed him, the ones he was preparing to take over the Jujutsu world –

God, the world is so big, isn’t it? It feels so vast and massive now, like he’s suddenly stepped into the shadow of a terrible monolith, blocking out the sun. It doesn’t feel like the first daylight he’s seen in weeks. This light is blinding, like a shadow convalesced.

“Gojo, do you hear me? I’m sending Ichiji over with the car.”

And there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, dragging him down in a way he normally doesn’t feel. This isn’t something that bothers him. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

He likes fighting. He likes sorcery, and he’s good at it. Exorcizing curses, beating curse-users to shit. It’s fun. He’s so strong that it’s not a risk anymore, just something to do with his overpowered abilities, and that’s cool. He’s not afraid, not in any universe.

So why does the voice asking him when he’s going to go kill these curses fill him with a sudden, inexplicable nausea?

Why does the thought of having to do this again, all over again, always on repeat, have the pit of his stomach burning? Like there’s a pressure on his shoulders that he knows he can’t relieve.

Satoru knows he has to do this. He’s the only one who can. Other sorcerers are weak – many of them would die. For some of these special grades, it’s him or nothing, with the lives of regular civilians on the line.

Each thought sends his stomach churning. He has to. He has to. He has to do it he has to go he has to he can’t avoid it. Today and tomorrow and the next day, too, over and over and over again.

The sky – it’s so big. So massively big, so wide and yawning, he feels like he’s falling into it. His head is pounding, information flooding back through his senses. One special grade, two, three or four – he has to teleport to them, exorcise them. He has to teach his students. He has to report to the elders. He has to – he has to – there’s so much, so much to do –

The six eyes are screaming at him, the sky is screaming, light burning into his retinas it’s too bright. Too fucking bright out here.

His legs carry him to a nearby wall. He’s leaning against it, now, breaths coming heavy and labored.

And then, it comes. He’d only been half expecting it – part of him still probably thought he was invincible, untouchable.

And he’s right. Nothing is touching him. It just feels like his skin is crawling for no reason. Pins and needles, electric adrenaline racing through every last nerve fiber in his body.

He’s simultaneously too strong and feverishly weak, collapsing against the wall. Gravity feels like it’s pulling harder, off balance, only it shouldn’t be. He should be fine, he should be able to move his limbs however he wants, they shouldn’t feel gangly and overresponsive and desperately twitchy.

His heart shouldn’t be trying to beat itself out of his chest. His lungs shouldn’t feel like they’re on fire. He shouldn’t have alarm bells going off his head, his limbs burning hot with too much energy and not enough.

Between ragged breaths he catches a faint, familiar scent, warm like sunlight –

“Satoru?”

It’s – it’s – it’s you, you’re back, and something awful in his chest jumps with irrational delight, a weight shifting on his shoulders, almost lifted. He tries to control his racing pulse, stammer through your name –

A mind, indifferent gaze meets his eyes. It freezes him in place. All his anxiety swinging on a precipice.

“Is something wrong?” A voice that betrays no emotion, no affection, no hidden longing. No I missed you, or I’m happy to see you, or I hope you weren’t lonely while I was gone.

He’s going insane, he must be going insane, but with all the adrenaline shooting through him, limbs trembling, he’s barely able to keep himself upright against the wall.

“Don’t – don’t you – ” Insane, insane, he knows he’s delirious while he’s saying this, why is he saying it, but his body is acting on his behalf, mind paralyzed with fright, “Don’t you want me?”

How could he sound so – needy? So forlorn? You’d fucking kidnapped him, he should be afraid, he should be angry, if anything.

(Maybe that was his fault from the beginning. He’d never really been quick to anger. Never been one to fear others, either. Deep down, the only thing that had ever hurt him was being left behind.)

Even the six eyes cannot discern your tone, “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried to make things work with you. You didn’t want it.”

He didn’t, of course he didn’t, you were keeping him fucking captive. He knows this, the information is there in his mind, but his body won’t stop shaking. The sky is too big, the street is too broad, too many bodies, too much cursed energy, every object in every direction overwhelming his senses.

It feels like a migraine. It feels like his legs are about to give out under him, no solid earth to be found. Too big it’s too big he wants to go –

“Unless… you want to come back?”

Satoru knows he doesn’t. He knows the answer is no. He knows that you fucked him up, that this is a consequence of your captivity directly, that he should be able to overcome this if he just bears with it –

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. I tried.

“Please,” His voice says without his permission, “I want…” To go home. Take me back. Don’t leave me.

Relief floods the entirety of his quaking form as soon as you smile.

“Of course, Satoru,” Your eyes soften, and against all rationality, he feels like he’s made the right choice, “Take my hand. Let’s go home.”

He’s messed up, this is messed up. He’s better than this! He isn’t stupid, he knows what you’re doing! He has the six eyes, for fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world!

You’re not strong, Satoru. You only think you are, and I understand why. The whole world has been telling you this forever. But you aren’t, and that’s okay. I’ll protect you.

He doesn’t have to be the strongest sorcerer. Not if he doesn’t want to. He can go back where it’s dark and comfortable and warm, and he can be Satoru Gojo, your cherished pet.

He looks at you, six eyes blinding him, headache burning though his skull. He thinks of how close and soft and safe that place was. How you stayed with him for hours and hours on end. He never had to be alone.

Nothing has ever felt as right as your hand clasped with his own.

[ramp-it-up]

Update!

Great

Pilot Steve takes you for a ride.

Greater

You let Steve know how you felt about him leaving you hanging.

Greatest — Steve tells you the truth.

Best of All— before you know it

[delulluart]

grabbing and holding hands is, as it turns out, a recurring theme in my (smutty) art

Full version ft. a bit of✨Tummy squish✨ here 🌶

All Ghinktober 2024 drawings

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

dnkinktober day 1: feminization | day 14: biting

[wynniebear]

Honey enjoying her "walkies"

Leashed prompt for Feedist Kinktober

[ash-and-starlight]

Early Kinktober Announcement

HI EVERYONE! so as few of you already know I have a little tradition for kinktober, that this year I decided to bring over to Tumblr/ao3, and to anticipate a bit in the hopes of cooking up something in time since my october is going to be quiiite busy. My goal would be to make a drawing each week, featuring ideas, pairings or prompts that you, yes YOU 🫵 can come up with (and send me via ask/dm/whatever), that will be chosen or mix and matched depending on what strikes my Muse. i turned anon asks on just in case it helps the more shy commenters, but dont worry I won’t publish any ask or message I get about this!

Thank you in advance and have fun! I’m really excited to see what this year’s kinktober will bring <33