#know the method of worship | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cumironi · 1 month ago

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ACADEMIC MISCONDUCT : PU$$Y SUBMISSION EDITION jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. bold of you to assume that your pu$$y now belongs to you after you fück your professor. and you even have the audacity to go on blind date without telling them? yeah, go on a date, get rearranged’ they said.

wn. non-sorcerer au!, professor-student au, 23 you & 31 them, possessive behavior and aggressive jealousy from a very large, very unhinged professor, power imbalance (professor/student), but you, likes it and he really likes it unprotected sex with zero post-nut clarity, degradation + praise in the same breath, oral fixation, spit kink, desk abuse, pussy worship in the form of punishment, rough $ex featuring emotional damage and breeding threats, heavy marking, territorial growling, and minor furniture damage, aftercare only implied because he’s still pissed off, she’s in love, he’s obsessed, nobody’s normal & he thinks jealousy is a valid teaching method.

GOJO SATORU

the first time satoru hears about it, it’s in the most humiliating way possible. not from you. not from a whisper in the dark where he can pull your legs apart in warning. no—he’s sipping coffee in the staff lounge, sunglasses half-slid down his nose, when utahime walks by and drops it like a nuclear bomb.

“your favorite student’s going on a blind date tonight,” she says with a teasing lilt. “you might lose your little lap bunny.”

the burn in his gut is immediate.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t move. doesn’t blink. he just raises the cup to his mouth again, lips curving over the ceramic, smile like a crack in glass.

“you good?” she asks.

“me?” he hums. “always.”

but he’s not. not when he watches the way you walk into lecture fifteen minutes late—bra strap peeking, lip gloss shiny, hair freshly done like you’re trying to fucking kill him.

and you smile at him. that smile. the one that always means trouble. “sorry, professor,” you murmur, breathy and full of fake guilt. “overslept.” his jaw ticks. “overslept or busy texting your mystery date?”

you blink.

you weren’t expecting him to know. that’s cute.

“what?” you laugh, sliding into your seat in the front row like you own him. “someone’s been gossiping, huh?”

“someone’s been sloppy,” he replies, and you freeze for half a second—because there’s a shift in his tone. less playful. more predator.

“i didn’t know you cared.”

he grins, teeth sharp and sweet. “oh, i don’t.”

liar.

he barely makes it through the lecture.

every time you shift in your seat, his mind goes dark. legs spread. knees over his shoulders. your cunt swollen and twitching, leaking down to his tongue while you cry about how full you are. how ruined. how stretched.

but apparently not ruined enough if you’re out there letting strangers buy you dinner. he waits until after class. the hallway clears. he stands by the door, hands in his pockets, sunglasses gone. eyes sharp. you pretend you don’t see him, but your steps slow as you pass, hips swaying like bait.

“office,” he says.

you roll your eyes, playing coy, but your thighs press together. he sees it. you’re wet already. you’ve been wet since he raised his voice during lecture. he shuts the door behind you. doesn’t lock it, but it might as well be. the air tightens around you like a noose.

“you think i don’t know what you’re doing?” he murmurs, stepping close.

“what am i doing, professor?” you ask, head tilted, eyes wide with mock innocence.

“playing games.”

“maybe i am.”

his hand slams on the desk beside your head. you flinch—just a little—and smile up at him like you want to see how far he’ll go. “do you know what that does to me?” he hisses. “hearing someone else is going to get to touch what’s mine?”

you raise a brow. “yours?”

“yeah.” his hand moves to your throat—not tight, not choking, but firm. possessive. his thumb brushes your jaw. “mine. don’t tell me you forgot.”

“you never said i couldn’t.”

he laughs, wild and soft and bitter. “baby, you can’t even cum without me holding your hips down.” your face heats. your lashes flutter. your thighs clench, and he sees it again. he always sees it. “what—gonna fuck the date with my cum still inside you?” he taunts, lips ghosting over yours. “your pussy’s shaped like me, you think he’s gonna know what to do with that? you think he’ll recognize the sound you make when you’re close? the way you tremble?”

“satoru—”

you shouldn’t have said his name.

his mouth is on yours before you finish it. furious, hungry, a kiss like punishment. his tongue slips in and steals every excuse from your mouth.

“strip.”

“someone might come in—”

“then be quick.”

you hop up on the desk, skirt riding high, no panties underneath. his hands are there immediately, fingers spreading your folds, already slick, already begging. “fuck—look at this,” he murmurs, thumb teasing your clit while you squirm. “who got you wet like this, huh? your little blind date?”

“n-no,” you whisper.

“then who?”

“you…”

“say it.”

“you, professor.”

his smirk curls against your thigh. “good girl.”

you gasp when he spits on your cunt, two fingers slipping in, slow and deep. “god, you’re still shaped like me,” he groans, watching the way your walls pulse around his fingers. “i ruin you every time and you still need more. filthy fucking girl.”

“please,” you whimper, hips lifting.

he leans in and bites your thigh, hard enough to mark.

“no begging,” he growls. “you want something? you earn it. tell me you're canceling the date.”

“satoru—”

he slaps your clit, sharp and fast, and you choke on a cry.

“tell me.”

“i'll cancel it! i will—fuck, please—!”

he hums, pleased, dragging your juices across your slit, up your stomach. his fingers curl just right, and you clench down like you never want him to leave.

“that’s better,” he says, kissing your thigh. “my good girl.”

he fucks you with his fingers until you're sobbing his name, clinging to his shirt, and when you cum, he doesn't stop. doesn't let up. he pulls you down to the floor, bends you over the desk, and sinks into you raw.

“look at you,” he moans into your neck. “crying like this cock doesn’t live inside you already. slut.”

“yours—yours—”

“damn right. if i find out you even talked to someone else like this, i’m showing up to your date and fucking you in the bathroom while he waits.”

“satoru—!”

“you like that idea?” he pants, hips pounding. “like the thought of me destroying you where everyone can hear? ruin your reputation like i ruined your body?”

“yes—please—don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. not until he fills you to the brim, holds you tight, whispers against your spine that he loves you too much to let you go. that he’ll make you remember who owns you, every fucking day if he has to.

GETO SUGURU

geto suguru is quieter about it than gojo. where gojo would rage and bark and leave you marked in broad daylight, geto is the kind of man who waits. watches. listens to your excuses like they’re confessions. he’s twenty years your senior, your professor in comparative philosophy, always perfectly pressed in black button-downs and silk ties. calm, unreadable, devastating.

and the moment he finds out from shoko that you’ve got a blind date lined up for friday night, he doesn’t lash out. he doesn’t even frown. he just hums, pours his tea, and murmurs,

“ah. so she wants to be owned by someone else.”

and shoko, who’s always had too good a sense for danger, only raises her brow and says, “you gonna let her?”

“oh, not at all,” he says. “she’ll learn.”

you don’t know he knows. you come to his office hours like you always do, in your oversized hoodie and those dangerous little shorts that barely peek past the hem. knees tucked under you on his leather couch, eyes wide and innocent as you ask for help on your thesis. your thighs are bare. your lip is glossed. and there’s a new tension in the room you don’t recognize until you shut the door.

“lock it,” he says, not looking up from his laptop.

you pause, your stomach twisting. “what?”

“i said lock it. if we’re going to be alone, we ought to have privacy, don’t you think?”

your fingers tremble slightly as they twist the lock. you turn to face him, unsure why he feels different today—why his voice is thicker, why his gaze lingers too long on your thighs.

“something wrong, professor?”

“plenty,” he says, folding his hands in his lap, eyes fixed on you like a hawk. “but let’s start with you. tell me about this little date of yours.”

your mouth dries.

you try to deflect. “who told you that?”

“does it matter?”

you stay quiet.

“you were going to let someone else touch you,” he says, and his voice is soft. unbearably so. “someone else between your legs. someone who doesn’t know how your cunt tightens when you’re scared. someone who’s never had your throat bulging around their cock. tell me—what exactly do you owe this man?”

“i wasn’t gonna sleep with him,” you whisper.

he rises slowly from his chair.

“you think that excuses you?”

his tone is mild, but your thighs clench together on instinct. you feel it immediately—the sharp ache in your core, the phantom throb of memory.

“you think not fucking him is the line?” he continues, walking toward you, each step measured. “so kissing would be fine? letting him buy you food? letting him think you’re available, when you walk around every day stuffed full of my cum?”

your mouth opens to protest, but nothing comes out. he stands over you now, tall and calm and terrifying.

“stand up.”

you do. your legs shake.

“strip.”

you hesitate, but he doesn’t repeat himself. just looks at you like he’s waiting to see whether you’re still worth keeping. your hoodie falls to the floor. your tank top next. your shorts. your bra. you’re bare in seconds, eyes wide and throat dry as his gaze moves over you, slow and thorough.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “at least you remember how to obey.”

he reaches for you. his hands are large and warm and deceptively gentle as they slide down your back, cupping your ass. “this body is mine,” he says, fingers sinking in. “this pussy is mine. and if you ever give so much as a smile to another man again, i will fuck you so thoroughly you’ll limp into lecture with my cum leaking down your legs. do you understand me?”

you nod frantically, breath caught.

“say it.”

“yes, professor—yes, i understand—i’m yours—”

he kisses you then. not sweet, not loving—deep and hot and consuming. his tongue swallows your gasp, his fingers press between your thighs, and you moan when he finds you already wet. “filthy little thing,” he whispers against your lips. “do you even know how you smell? you think he wouldn’t have known the moment he sat next to you that you belong to someone else?”

“i’m sorry—”

“too late.”

he turns you around, pushes you forward over the desk with one hand on your back. the cool wood shocks your skin. his other hand spreads your legs.

“no prep today. you’re going to take me raw and open like the little slut you are.” he unzips his pants. you hear it—the low rustle, the metallic clink, the hiss of breath as his cock slaps against your ass.

and then he pushes in.

“fuck—so tight. you’re always tight,” he groans, sinking inch by inch, slow and brutal. “doesn’t matter how often i fuck you. greedy little cunt always pretends it’s the first time.”

“nghhh—professor—” you cry out, nails clawing at the desk. “too deep—”

“nonsense.” he grips your hips, pulls you back into him until he’s fully seated. “this pussy’s shaped for me. if it hurts, it’s because it’s remembering who it belongs to.” he starts to move. slow, deep thrusts that scrape against your walls, dragging every sound out of your throat. you sob into the wood. he doesn’t stop.

“he would’ve been too soft,” geto murmurs, voice low and cruel. “he wouldn’t have known how to make you scream. wouldn’t have known you need to be taken. broken down. loved in pieces.”

you moan. high and breathless and helpless.

“yours—i’m yours—please—”

“prove it.”

he reaches around and slaps your clit. once. twice. then again, until you’re sobbing with it, hips jerking, cunt fluttering around him like it’s begging. “cum for me,” he says. “right now. show me who this pussy belongs to.”

you scream when it hits. muscles locking, eyes rolling back, your body spasming under him as you cum so hard you nearly collapse. he fucks you through it, relentless.

then he pulls out. flips you over.

“you’re not done.”

he lifts you onto the desk, spreads your legs, and slams back in, face inches from yours. one hand on your throat now. the other cradling your thigh like something precious.

“i’m going to breed you so full of me, you’ll taste it for days.”

“yes—please—need it—”

“fucking slut,” he growls, snapping his hips faster. “do you even know what you’re doing to me? every time you leave, every time you smile at someone else, i want to ruin you.”

his eyes burn into yours—dark, hot, overwhelming.

“mine.”

he cums with a deep groan, pressed tight against you, cock twitching as he empties inside you in thick, hot waves. your name is a curse on his lips, his hips grinding into you even as he spills every drop. he holds you through it, arms firm around your back, forehead pressed to yours.

“you’re not leaving,” he says.

“never,” you whisper.

“you’ll come here every friday instead. knees on the floor. mouth open. or bent over this desk. or tied to the chair. whatever i want.”

“yes—yes, professor—”

he kisses you again, this time slow. reverent.

and when you try to stand, he presses you down with a hand on your belly.

“we’re not finished.”

NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento doesn’t yell. he doesn’t snap, doesn’t lose control. no—he calculates, measures, and when he’s angry, it’s a quiet thing. sharp. surgical. deadly.

he hears about your blind date from a colleague in the economics department. just a harmless comment in the lounge “your favorite little research assistant’s going out friday. hope her date knows what he’s getting into.”

nanami doesn’t react. not then. just adjusts his tie, thanks them for the information, and finishes his coffee.

but something turns in him. something cold.

because you—his girl—were supposed to tell him first.

the rest of the week, he’s painfully polite. unreadable. you don’t even realize he knows.

he still reads over your papers. still offers notes. still lets you curl up in the office armchair while he types, his jacket draped over your legs like always. but he doesn’t touch you. doesn’t kiss you. doesn’t slip his hand under your skirt while murmuring about Kant or market elasticity.

and it’s driving you insane.

friday comes, and you knock on his door before class, expecting the usual. affection. maybe a quiet, breathless fuck before lecture, up against the bookcases while the windows fog.

but when he looks up at you from his papers, you feel it. the distance.

“you look nice,” he says, flatly. “you always get that dressed up for lecture?”

you freeze.

“...you heard.”

“i did.”

you try to explain, but he waves a hand—elegant, firm, final.

“i’m not interested in your excuses,” he says, rising from his seat. he’s taller than you remember when he’s angry. “you knew what we were. what i am to you. and still you thought it acceptable to allow another man the idea of you.”

“kento, it wasn’t like that—”

“then tell me what it was like,” he says, voice low now, eyes dark. “was it innocent? were you simply bored of the way i fuck you so good you cry? was he going to hold your hand while my cum was still dripping out of you?”

your breath stutters.

“get on the desk.”

you blink. “what—now—?”

“i said get on the desk.”

you do, slowly, knees spreading as you sit on the edge. the wood is cold beneath your thighs. your skirt rides up when you move. he watches it happen, expression unreadable.

“take off your panties.”

you slip them off. he catches them in one hand, brings them to his face. inhales.

“still wet,” he murmurs. “but not for him, was it?”

you shake your head. “no, never—just you—”

he steps between your legs, unbuttoning his cuffs. rolling his sleeves up, slow. precise. you know what that means. “put your hands behind your back,” he says. “don’t move them unless i say.”

you obey. trembling.

his fingers trail up your thigh, reach your cunt, already damp and pulsing. he doesn’t praise you. doesn’t tease. just slides two fingers in, curling up until your hips jerk. “you know this body belongs to me,” he says softly. “and still, you wanted to test me. make me jealous.”

“i didn’t—”

“you did,” he cuts in. “and now, you’ll apologize with your body.”

he pulls his fingers out, glistening with slick, and wipes them on your tongue. you suck instinctively, eyes wide and glassy.

“such a good girl when you’re being used,” he says, unbuckling his belt. “i wonder if your date would’ve known what to do with this messy little mouth.” his cock’s hard already—thick, veiny, flushed. he strokes it slowly as he watches you. the room feels hot. too small. full of tension.

“open.”

you do.

he slides in slow, all the way down your throat, until you gag.

“mm. yes. that’s what you’re made for,” he murmurs, one hand in your hair. “that’s what you were always made for.”

he fucks your throat with slow, punishing thrusts, hips rolling forward as you drool down your chin, tears pricking your eyes. “think he’d last this long?” nanami growls, cock hitting the back of your throat over and over. “think he’d know to tap your cheek when you start to panic? think he’d praise you when you take it all like this?”

you choke and sob, eyes locked on his, desperate for forgiveness.

he pulls out suddenly, tilts your chin up, and kisses your spit-slick mouth.

“you don’t get to cum yet,” he says. “lie down.”

he flips you onto your back, presses you flat to the desk. one hand on your sternum to pin you down, the other guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt.

“no prep. no lube. you don’t deserve kindness today.”

he thrusts in rough—deep—full. your back arches, a sob spilling from your lips.

“f-fuck, kento—”

“quiet,” he snaps. “take it.”

he fucks you hard, relentless, his body covering yours, holding you still. your arms are still behind your back. you can’t move. you can’t breathe. all you can do is take it.

“you feel that?” he hisses. “every inch? memorize it. because if you ever dare give someone else your attention again, i will fuck you like this in front of your date. i will make him watch as you cry for my cock.”

“kento—i’m sorry—!”

“you will be.”

he fucks you through your apology, through your cries, until you cum screaming, writhing under him, cunt spasming around his cock.

he doesn’t stop.

he fucks you through it, chasing his own release, and when he cums, it’s deep—hot—thick. he stays inside, hips grinding as if trying to brand you from the inside out.

he leans down, presses a kiss to your temple.

“mine.”

you nod, broken and blissed out.

“say it.”

“yours. only yours. always.”

he pulls out slow. watches his cum leak out of you in a thick white string.

“you’ll clean this desk before you leave.”

“yes, professor.”

he buttons up, straightens his sleeves, and finally—finally—cups your face in both hands. “next time you think about someone else,” he says, soft and serious, “remember how it felt to have me make you forget your own name.” and kiss your forehead like a loving lover he is.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he hears about the date during a smoke break.

not from you. never from you. nah—you’d rather bat your lashes, wear those tight little skirts to lecture, and play dumb like you don’t leave his sheets soaked every thursday after seminar.

it’s one of your friends, the mouthy one with no sense of self-preservation, who lets it slip. “she’s got a date friday night,” she says, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t just toss a lit match onto gasoline. “some guy her cousin set her up with. cute, apparently. tall.”

toji just stares at her, chewing on his cigarette filter, jaw ticking.

“is that so.”

the friend doesn’t even notice how still he goes. how his eyes stop blinking. how the air around him shifts—sharp, tight, violent. he doesn’t go back to lecture that day. he waits. in his office. door unlocked. lights dim. and when you knock—sweet, innocent, clueless—he’s already leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, cigarette smoke curling out the cracked window.

“close the door,” he says.

you do.

you’re smiling when you step in, like always, like you think you’re safe with him.

you’re not.

“heard you’ve got plans friday,” he says, casual.

you blink. “...huh?”

“cute guy. tall. set up by your cousin.”

the smile falters.

“oh. um… how did you—”

“your friend’s got a big fuckin’ mouth,” he says, eyes narrowing. “but i’m glad she does. otherwise i wouldn’t have known my girl’s out here giving other men the idea they got a chance.”

you swallow.

“it’s just dinner, toji—”

“yeah?” he laughs, cruel and quiet. “just dinner? or were you gonna let him take you home after and find out your pussy doesn’t even work for anyone but me?”

you freeze. cheeks flush. thighs clench.

he notices. of course he does.

“strip.”

“we’re in your office—”

“i said strip.”

you do. shaky hands pulling your shirt over your head. skirt sliding down your legs. no bra. no panties.

he raises a brow.

“you were hoping i’d fuck you today, huh?”

you nod.

he stands. walks toward you slow. like a lion. like a man who’s about to ruin something for fun. “on the desk. legs spread.”

you scramble up. lie back. legs trembling as you open them. he grabs your ankles and yanks you forward so hard your back slams into the wood. “look at that,” he murmurs, staring down at your dripping cunt. “already leaking. pathetic.”

“toji—”

“shut up.”

he leans in, mouth dragging over your inner thigh.

“you think he could handle this?” he whispers, lips brushing your pussy lips, breath hot. “you think he’d know what to do when you cry because you need it deep enough to hit your fucking stomach?”

his tongue flicks out. one slow, nasty lick up your slit. you moan.

“nah. he wouldn’t know shit,” he says. “probably cum in his pants just from looking at you.”

he doesn’t eat you like you’re fragile. he devours you like a man starved. spit slick, mouth messy, his tongue bullying your clit while two thick fingers sink in deep and curl—

“nnnhh—fuck—!”

“shut. up.” he growls into your cunt. “this isn’t for you. this is punishment.”

your hands grip the desk so tight your knuckles ache. your moans echo off the walls. his tongue is relentless, fingers fucking you open like he’s carving his name inside you. “gonna remind you,” he pants, licking into you again, “what you belong to. whose cock shaped this pussy.”

you cum once. then twice. your legs tremble. your voice breaks.

he stands. yanks his belt open.

you barely manage to lift your head before he’s already jerking his cock out—hard, heavy, flushed dark and wet at the tip. he doesn’t waste time. just lines up and slams into you in one brutal thrust.

“nghhh—fuck—too much—”

“shut up,” he grits. “take it. you wanted this. dressed like that. fuckin’ around like a dumb little slut. you wanted me mad.” he fucks you hard. brutal. filthy. his hips snapping forward, cock pistoning in and out, wet sounds filling the office louder than your choked sobs. his fingers dig into your hips. he bites your collarbone. he growls into your neck—

“mine. mine. you get that, yeah? this cunt? this body? your moans? mine.”

“yes—yes, toji, yours, only yours—”

he lifts one leg over his shoulder. angle shifting. cock punching so deep you see stars. “you don’t fucking go out with anyone else,” he growls, sweat dripping. “i’ll beat the shit out of him. you hear me? i’ll break his fuckin’ jaw.”

“yes—yes, please—”

you’re close again. so close. sobbing his name, begging him not to stop.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

and in a whisper, soft and broken, he says—

“can’t stand the thought of someone else even looking at you.”

you cum so hard you nearly black out. clenching around him like your body’s apologizing for even thinking about someone else. he cums with a groan, deep and low, spilling inside you with a stuttering thrust, cock buried to the hilt.

he doesn’t move.

just breathes heavy. holds your hips. presses his lips to your cheek like he’s sorry for being so rough—even though you loved it.

you blink up at him, dazed. wrecked. full.

“still think about going on that date?” he murmurs.

you shake your head.

“good girl,” he says, and kisses you again. “now get dressed. i’m driving you home. and you’re staying over.”

“why?”

he smirks. dark. smug. possessive.

“so i can fuck you again every time i remember some other guy thought he had a chance.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

“she’s going out friday,” gojo says on lunch break, deadpan, blue eyes hiding behind his blue glasses as he glance at sukuna who’s passing by. “blind date. someone her cousin set up.”

utahime’s jaw drops. “wait—does sukuna know?”

shoko just snorts. “oh, he’s gonna kill someone.”

he does not kill someone. he waits.

and when you walk into his office after class—hair tied up, skirt short, lip gloss shiny—he doesn’t say hello. doesn’t smirk. doesn’t greet you like the spoiled, cum-dumb princess you are. he just says, voice flat, “so. friday.”

you freeze halfway to the desk. “…what about it?”

his gaze doesn’t leave your face. his hands stay folded in his lap. but his jaw ticks, and when he speaks next, it’s soft.

too soft.

“you really gonna go let some stranger sit across from you like he deserves to breathe your air?”

“it’s not serious—”

“no,” he cuts in, calm but sharp. “serious is when i fuck you against this desk so hard you cry into my tie. this is worse. this is betrayal.”

“ryo—”

he stands.

you take a step back. instinct. survival. but he’s already in front of you, hand at your throat—not tight. not yet.

“let me get this straight,” he murmurs, eyes narrow, voice low and dangerous. “i fuck you every week. sometimes every day. i have you creaming around my cock until you can’t say your own name. i’ve trained this pussy to open for me just from my voice—and you think you’ve got the right to sit pretty at a table with some other guy who’s gonna ask you what your favorite fucking color is?”

you gasp as his grip tightens—still not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who the fuck he is.

“was gonna wear that little red dress, weren’t you?” he growls. “the one that clings to your hips like my hands do. gonna smile at him like you didn’t choke on my cock two nights ago.”

“i wasn’t—i’m not—”

“you’re not what? mine?” he leans in, lips grazing your cheek. “don’t lie.”

you whimper.

he presses you back against the wall, one thigh wedging between yours. you’re already trembling. wet. your panties are useless. “thought maybe you forgot,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down to cup your cunt through your skirt. “thought maybe this slutty little pussy needed a refresher.”

“please—”

“mm. beg better than that, sweetheart.”

he drops to his knees.

on his knees.

your terrifying professor. eyes full of menace. tattoos inked down his arms like warning signs. and he’s already pushing your panties aside, tongue licking into your folds like he’s trying to taste the betrayal out of you. “fuck—look at this,” he mutters, mouth messy already. “she’s crying. like she knows she did something wrong.”

“ryo—fuck—”

he groans, slurping wetly, tongue flicking over your clit before diving back in, fucking you with it. his fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to bruise, pulling you open wider. “you gonna let him see this?” he pants, slick coating his chin. “this greedy, pretty pussy? this pussy that drools just from hearing my voice?”

you shake your head. “no—never—only you—”

“damn right only me.”

he stands. lifts you. throws you over the desk like you weigh nothing. you hear the buckle. the zipper. the low, filthy growl as his cock slaps against your ass. “this pussy’s shaped like me,” he snarls, rubbing the fat tip through your folds. “and now i’m gonna remind it.”

he doesn’t ease in. he slams.

“ah—fuck—!”

“that’s right,” he grits, hips snapping. “take it. take the cock you earned when you signed up for my class just to stare at my hands.” you’re drooling on his papers. the whole desk shakes. he’s balls deep, thick and brutal, fucking you with the rage of a god and the precision of a scholar.

“you think he’d fuck you like this?” sukuna hisses, pulling your hair. “think he’d know how deep you need it? how to hold your hips down when you start running from the stretch?”

“n-no—just you—just you—”

“say it louder.”

“only you—only you, professor—!”

his hand slides down your back. presses between your shoulder blades. pushes you flat. he leans in close, voice in your ear like sin itself. “you even look at another man again, and i’ll fuck you in front of him. bend you over the table and make you apologize with your mouth full.”

“fuck—please—”

“you gonna cum? you think you deserve it?”

“yes—no—fuck, please—”

“beg for it.”

“please—please fill me up—need it, need you—mark me—make it yours—please, professor—” he cums with a snarl, cock twitching deep, hot, thick. so much it spills out as soon as he pulls out, dripping down your thighs, making a fucking mess of your skin and the floor.

and he’s not done.

he flips you over, fingers spreading your legs again.

“we’re doing it again,” he mutters, already getting hard. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til you forget his name. then i’m gonna make you say mine.”

you’re shaking. breathless. soaked.

but you nod. “yes, professor…”

he smiles, wicked and soft and utterly terrifying.

“good girl. now say goodbye to that date.”

SHIU KONG

he hears it by accident.

he’s leaving the staff meeting early—bored, irritated, fingers twitching from not having his hands on you all week. he cuts through the hallway outside the student café, phone out, when he hears it:

"she’s got that blind date friday," one of your friends says, sipping from a pink thermos. "her cousin set it up. some finance guy—kind of basic, but tall."

the other giggles. "honestly, she needs a break. she’s been acting weird since she started doing research with professor kong. like—head always somewhere else. probably pent-up or something."

he stops walking. dead still.

his thumb taps the side of his phone. once. twice.

then he turns around, expression blank, and walks back to his office with the same precision he uses when writing evaluations that determine entire academic futures. when you arrive at his door, you knock twice, peeking in like nothing’s wrong. like everything’s normal. he’s sitting on the couch. black shirt. collar undone. sleeves rolled. no tie today.

“close it,” he says, voice quiet.

you do.

you turn toward him, already reaching into your bag to pull out notes.

“come here.”

your fingers pause.

“is it about the paper or—”

“here.”

you move to him slowly, sensing it now—that shift. that tightness in the air. the way he won’t quite meet your eyes. he pats the space beside him on the couch. you sit. then he says it. quiet. cruel. calm. “you have a date friday.”

your stomach flips.

“i—i canceled it. i wasn’t even going to go—”

“but you agreed to it.” he turns his head. finally meets your gaze. “you said yes. you planned it. you got dressed in your mirror and thought about someone else seeing you like that. thought about someone else sitting across from you while you were full of me.”

your breath stutters.

“shiu, it didn’t mean anything—”

“you were going to let him think he had a chance,” he says, voice sharper now. “let him smile at you. laugh. maybe offer to walk you home. not knowing this pussy’s been ruined beyond recognition.”

his hand slides up your thigh.

"spread your legs."

you hesitate. “the door—”

he turns to you, and it’s not a look. it’s a warning.

“spread them.”

you do.

he pushes your skirt up. doesn’t remove it. just drags his fingers between your folds, slow and unforgiving. you're already wet.

“you knew i’d find out,” he says. “you fucking knew. and you wanted me to.”

you gasp as he slips two fingers inside you, curling immediately.

“you thought maybe i wouldn’t care? that i’d let you go? let someone else take this tight little cunt and figure out too late it only reacts to my voice?”

“shiu—please—”

“no,” he snaps. “you don’t get to beg yet. i’m not finished talking.”

his fingers fuck you slow, deep, methodical.

your legs shake.

“you think your blind date would know how to hold you like this?” he says, voice softer, almost amused. “how to curl his fingers just right so you’re dripping before you even get his pants off?”

you whimper.

“he wouldn’t know you need to be told you’re a good girl when you’re close. wouldn’t know how much pressure it takes to make you cry.” he pulls his hand away. grabs your chin. forces you to look at him. “get on your knees.”

you drop immediately.

he stands, undoing his belt with steady hands.

his cock is already hard—thick, flushed, leaking.

“open your mouth,” he murmurs. “show me what’s mine.”

you do.

he slides in with a slow, possessive thrust, groaning low when your lips wrap around him.

“fuck, just like that,” he mutters. “this mouth was made for me.”

he fucks your mouth slow at first. then deeper. rougher. holding your head still, eyes dark with something unreadable. “you were gonna let him buy you dinner,” he pants. “while you’re here gagging on me. what the fuck were you thinking, huh?”

you try to respond, and he laughs. breathless. bitter.

“don’t talk. swallow.”

he cums down your throat with a low growl, hips twitching, cock pulsing, his fingers buried in your hair. he doesn’t pull out until he’s sure you’ve taken every drop. even then—he holds you there. breathing hard. and then he says, soft, “friday, you’ll be here. that same time. on your back.”

he cups your cheek.

“you’ll make it up to me properly. because if i ever hear that someone else even looked at you like they could have you—”

his thumb drags across your lips. “—i’ll make sure the next time i fuck you, it’s somewhere they can hear.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he’d heard it during a staff lounge conversation, casual and cutting all at once.

“your favorite’s going on a blind date friday,” one of the adjuncts said with a chuckle, biting into a biscotti. “cousin set it up. cute guy, apparently. she deserves a break—bet she’s been stressed with finals.”

hiromi hadn’t looked up from his espresso. hadn’t said a word.

just stared into the dark liquid like it was reflecting the exact shape of your betrayal.

“a break,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word on his tongue like it was poison.

“yes,” he added, standing, “perhaps i should offer her one myself.”

you step into his office later that day, papers in hand, expecting to go over your thesis on moral relativism and postmodern legal structures.

you don’t expect to find him already seated at his desk like a judge behind a bench—robe replaced with a charcoal suit, tie loosened, gold pen resting on his fingers like a gavel waiting to drop.

“professor?” you say softly.

he doesn’t answer. just gestures to the chair across from him.

“sit.”

you do.

“you’re being tried,” he says.

“tried for what?”

he opens a folder on the desk and flips a page with deliberate care.

“charges,” he says, eyes not leaving the paper, “include deception, abandonment of contract, and attempted trespassing of personal property.”

“personal property—”

“my cock,” he clarifies, calm as ever.

you blink. your mouth opens.

but nothing comes out except, “i canceled the date.”

“after accepting it. after planning it. after entertaining the idea of another man—an outsider, an intruder—touching what’s been shaped by me.”

you cross your arms. “i didn’t sleep with him. nothing happened.”

he finally looks up.

and smiles.

“you think penetration is the only act that counts in my courtroom?”

he stands. paces slowly behind you. voice steady.

“tell me, did you pick an outfit? something tight, something pretty? did you wear perfume? maybe that gloss you like, the one i can taste for hours after i’ve finished with you?”

“i—”

“answer, counselor.”

“…yes,” you whisper.

“good,” he says. “we’re making progress.”

he walks back in front of you, palms flat on the desk, leaning in close.

“defendant, please rise.”

you stand, nervous. throat dry.

“remove your shirt.”

“professor—”

“you want leniency? cooperate.”

you unbutton. let it fall off your shoulders.

“bra.”

you hesitate.

he raises an eyebrow. “i can add obstruction to the list.” you unclasp it. drop it. his eyes drag down your chest with the hunger of a starving man hiding behind courtroom procedure. “now,” he murmurs, circling you again, “state your defense. clearly. and convincingly.”

you clear your throat.

“i didn’t mean to betray you. it wasn’t real. i didn’t want him. i canceled. i only want you.”

“and yet your actions—”

“do not match the intention,” you finish. “but your honor, if we judged solely by intention, half the world would be in prison.”

he pauses.

smiles.

"touche."

then he grabs your waist and lifts you onto his desk like you weigh nothing. “but,” he says, stepping between your legs, hands sliding up your thighs, “my laws are stricter.”

“what are my sentencing options?” you whisper, breath catching as his fingers drag closer to your soaked cunt. “option one,” he says, slipping two fingers inside you without warning, “i fuck you until you cry.”

you gasp, hips jerking.

“option two,” he continues, curling them deep, “i fuck you until you forget what dating even means.”

“and option three?” you moan.

he smirks.

“both.”

his mouth crashes into yours—hot, punishing, possessive. he tastes like espresso and judgment. you cling to his shoulders, thighs trembling as he fucks you with his fingers, slow and rough. “what’s this?” he growls. “tight. fluttering. wet. evidence suggests you like being punished.”

“i do—fuck—i do—”

he pulls back.

undoes his belt.

“bend over the desk. court is now in recess.”

you turn, arching for him, breath shaky.

his cock slides in deep—all the way.

you scream.

he grunts, hands gripping your hips. pace brutal.

“this pussy,” he pants, thrusting hard, “takes me like it was custom-built. you think someone else could manage this? think he’d know how to stroke this spot—” he slams in. “—or what you sound like when you’re just about to fall apart?”

you’re crying.

not from pain. from overstimulation. from being seen. known. owned.

“guilty,” he hisses, fucking you through it.

“guilty—yes—i’m guilty—”

he cums deep, cock twitching as he fills you.

he leans over you, lips brushing your ear.

“sentence: mine. indefinitely.”

you nod, sobbing into the desk.

he kisses your shoulder.

“case closed.”

7K notes · View notes

greengoblinswifey · 6 months ago

Text

Beneath Chaos II—Hwang In ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— as the two of you become more intimate, you uncover Young-il is not who he claims to be. He’s revealed to be the Hwang In-ho, the mastermind behind the entire game. As he manipulates you with his affections, you begin to question everything you thought you knew about him with the line between love and manipulation becoming increasingly blurred

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his late 40s) the usual squid games violence mentions, manipulation and deceit, fingering, choking, nipple play, oral(f!receiving), praise kink, body worship, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— requests are open but i take a while to get to them, patience <3 like and reblog <3

Part I

It was a war zone. Screams and shouts echoed through the space as players turned on each other, desperation driving them to violence. You’d managed to stay out of it for the most part, keeping close to the quieter players, but tonight, the group had decided it was time to go after the organizers of the game.

“Stick with me,” Young-il, the player who had stuck by your side since the start, urged.

You nodded, clutching your arm. “Where are we going?”

He tightened his grip on your wrist. “Trust me. I’ll get you out of here.”

The two of you weaved through the chaos, narrowly dodging bullets as guards closed in. One of them lunged at you after having their gun taken, and before you could react, Young-il used a gun to shoot them.

“Keep moving,” he barked, his voice unusually firm.

As the two of you made your way through what you called a maze, a steel door loomed and you couldn’t help but notice how methodical Young-il was. He fought with precision, taking down and guards and helping the group as you pressed forward.

“In here!” he said, dragging you through a hidden corridor behind the door.

Your heart pounded as the sounds of chaos grew fainter. “Where are we going? How do you know about this place?”

He didn’t answer, his jaw clenched as he led you through the dimly lit hallway. When two guards appeared, you froze, expecting them to attack, but Young-il stepped forward, raising his hands.

“It’s me,” he said coolly.

To your shock, they stepped aside, lowering their weapons.

“What the hell?” you whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll explain everything. Just stay with me.”

You followed him through the hallway, each step filling you with dread. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a heavy door, revealing a sleek, high-tech room filled with monitors.

You froze in the doorway. The screens displayed every corner of the facility, the dormitory, the games, the guards. It was the command center.

“What is this?” you demanded, turning to him.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached to a table and picked up a black mask that had been hidden.

“You’re the organizer of the games?” you whispered, recognizing that he was what they were after.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “But I couldn’t. Not yet.”

“You’re the Front Man?” Your voice trembled as the realization hit you like a freight train. “You’ve been running this whole thing?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t want you here. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped back. “You lied to me. All this time, I thought—I thought you were one of us. I slept with you!”

“I did what I had to do to protect you and—forget that,” he said, taking your hand firmly.

You pulled your hand away, anger bubbling to the surface. “And this is your idea of protection? Letting people die?”

“I’ve kept you alive, haven’t I?” His voice softened, and for a moment, you saw the man you thought you knew. “I brought you here because it’s the only safe place left. Please, just trust me.”

The heavy doors to his quarters slid open, and he guided you inside with a hand on your back. The room was cold and sterile, lined with screens showing every corner of the games. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine as you realized how removed this place was from the chaos you’d just escaped.

He stood by the console, running a hand through his damp hair as his chest rose and fell with controlled breaths. He was fighting to keep his expression neutral, but you noticed the faintest flicker of something else, a strain, like he was holding back.

“I need to explain,” he said, his tone carefully measured.

You crossed your arms, your voice trembling. “Explain what? That you lied to everyone? To me?”

He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he walked closer. “I had no choice. My name isn’t Young-il. It’s Hwang In-ho. I entered the game for a reason, to infiltrate and dismantle this from the inside.”

There it was again—that careful modulation of his voice, as if he was reading from a script. But the way he avoided your eyes gave him away.

The real truth you were unaware of was that he didn’t care about dismantling anything. The truth was, the deaths, the violence, it didn’t matter to him. The only thing he cared about was you. His sweet, pretty little thing.

“What about our friends?” you asked, cutting through the silence. Your voice cracked as you thought of the people you’d fought beside. “What happened to them?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t worry about them,” he said coldly. “It’s just me and you now.”

“Don’t worry?” you repeated, your voice rising. “They were our allies, our—”

“They don’t matter,” he interrupted, his tone hard. “You matter. I’ve done everything to protect you. Every choice I’ve made, every lie—it was all for you.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to believe the man in front of you. His eyes softened as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over your arm. “I know it’s hard to trust me right now. But you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You shook your head, your mind racing. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

“You’ll see,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles as he took your hand. “You’ll see that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

He straightened, his voice firm again. “You can get cleaned up. There are clothes for you in the bathroom.”

You walked into the sleek bathroom, its stark white tiles almost blinding under the fluorescent lights. A stack of fresh clothes sat neatly on the counter, along with a towel. The sound of water running filled the room as you stepped under the stream, letting the heat wash away the violence of the night.

You hadn’t heard him enter until you felt his hands on your waist. “In-ho?” you gasped, turning to see him standing behind you, naked, water dripping down his hair.

“I told you,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Before you could respond, his hand tilted your chin upward, and his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, his fingers tangling in your wet hair as he deepened it. You felt his other hand slide to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

“Is this your way of making me trust you?” you whispered against his lips, your breath hitching.

He chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Maybe.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Or maybe I just can’t stay away from you.”

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the warmth of his lips, the weight of his arms on your naked body. But in the back of your mind, the doubts lingered, like a dark cloud that wouldn’t leave. As his lips trailed down your neck, you fought to push the thoughts away, telling yourself you could question him later. You really wanted to argue, to pull away, but the warmth of his hands against your wet skin, the way his breath fanned across your neck, made your protests dissolve before they even formed.

“I can feel how tense you are,” he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles along your hip. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything.”

You swallowed hard, the heat from the water mixing with the heat of his touch. “I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Yes, you do,” he countered softly, his lips skimming your jaw. “You know I’ll make you feel good. I always do.”

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping along your thigh and feeling a slick wetness completely different from the water, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through you. “See?” he said. “Your body knows. It always knows.”

His fingers teased higher, the pads of his fingertips grazing your clit with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. You leaned against the tiled wall for support, your knees threatening to give out. Pleasure ran through your body and you opened your eyes to stare into his dark ones as they locked on you. They broke away from you, looking down at your breasts that were cascaded in warm water before leaning down and swirling his tongue over them, his fingers still rubbing your clit.

Soft whimpers left your lips even though you tried your hardest to suppress them. You bit your tongue as he took your nipple between his teeth and bit down gently, a finger now slipping inside your wet pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet praise. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Your body is a masterpiece.”

Your head tipped back, water running down your face as his fingers found your sweet spot, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. “In-ho,” you breathed, your voice trembling with equal parts of protest and need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his free hand moving to cradle your face, tilting it toward him. “I won’t let you fall. Just trust me.”

He moved his hand back down to your breast, kneading it as you involuntarily arched into his touch. A small smirk played on his lips and he leaned down, placing a kiss on yours. Another finger found its way inside your pussy, as his thumb skillfully rubbed your clit, increasing your pleasure. His fingers curled, and he used his free fingers to gently pinch and pull on your nipples as you tried to stop the soft moans from leaving your lips.

The sensation was overwhelming, his touch unrelenting, and the praise spilling from his lips only heightened it. “That’s it my good little girl,” he coaxed, his lips brushing against yours before capturing them fully, swallowing the sounds that escaped you.

His kiss was possessive, almost desperate, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hearing you but him. His fingers thrusted faster inside you with an expert rhythm, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and intoxicating. “So perfect, every part of you. All mine.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as an orgasm built inside you. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Let me see you cum, just for me.”

His fingers went faster and your body gave in, the release was swift and all consuming, leaving you trembling and moaning his name in his arms. He held you close, his hands steadying you as your breathing slowed.

“See how good that felt?” In-ho murmured, his lips curving into a small smile. “It can get even better.”

A flicker of shame passed through you, how could you let him do this, knowing what was happening just outside these quarters? The chaos, the danger, the people you had left behind. But the moment his hands trailed down your waist, firm and grounding, the doubt began to dissolve.

“In-ho,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and soft.

“I know angel,” he said gently, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But don’t think about anything else right now. It’s just you and me here. No one else matters.”

Before you could reply, he dropped to his knees. The sight of him kneeling before you, his dark hair dripping with water, made your breath catch.

His hands found your thighs, spreading them slightly as his lips pressed kisses on your pussy. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Let me show you.”

Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as his lips engulfed your throbbing clit. He worked with slow, deliberate care, his mouth trailing heat over your pussy.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against you. “So good for me. You always are.”

His tongue flicked over your clit fast, better than your fingers or anyone else could ever feel on you. He licked from your entrance back up to your clit, swirling his tongue and suckling like a starved man.

Your grip in his hair tightened as a low sound escaped you, and he let out a quiet chuckle, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”

For a moment, all thoughts of the world outside were forgotten. The only thing that existed was the feel of his lips and the steady stream of praise falling from them.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice reverent yet commanding. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

He ate you out like he had something to prove. Like he was showing you that no one else could care for you so much that it reflected in how they pleasured you. His tongue slipped inside your pussy, thrusting gently as you shivered and let out soft whimpers that made his dick hard. All that clouded your mind now was his tongue, exploring every inch of your needy, quivering pussy, licking up and down and slurping on your clit.

Your grip in his hair tightened again as your breaths turned shallow, your body trembling under his touch. He moved with such precision, as though he knew exactly what your pussy ached for. The sound of the water cascading around you only heightened your senses, every touch, every flicker of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Come on sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, rumbling praise that sent a shiver up your spine. “Just cum for me. Be good for me.”

Your fingers clenched in his wet hair, and your body obeyed, your orgasm spilling over as the pleasure became too much to contain and you squirted in his mouth.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your clit one last time before he stood, his hands trailing up your sides to pull you against him. You could feel the strength of him, solid, grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips. “See how good I can make you feel?” he murmured against your lips.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, guiding your hands to brace against the tile as the warmth of the water poured over you. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck as his hands explored your wet, naked body.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I won’t stay away from you, you know that?”

As his hands gently groped your ass, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck, his words soft but full of lust. “I need to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

“Please- please do,” you whimpered.

You could feel the way he was responding to you, his cock against your ass telling you everything you needed to know. Your pulse raced as you gave in to the moment, not wanting to fight the pull between you. You both let out low moans as he entered your tight pussy from behind, halting for a second to give you time to adjust to his sheer size. He was so thick, stretching and filling you in ways you knew no one else could.

He began steadily rutting into you, the sound of skin slapping amplified by the water making him chuckle lightly. His lips pressed against your neck as your pussy gripped his cock like it never wanted to let him go.

His voice was a little hoarse as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good.”

His hands shifted, one sliding around your neck, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. You leaned into it, feeling the pleasure rise inside you. With every thrust, he took his time, drawing out each moan, each squelch of your pussy that sent your heart racing.

He looked down at your ass bouncing against him, and you swore his cock throbbed inside you. With his hand still around your neck, the other reached in front, rubbing rough circles on your clit as his cock hit your g spot repeatedly.

“Relax,” he whispered softly. “I’ve got you. Cum on my cock.”

His words, his touch, it was all part of this undeniable force pulling you closer, and you gave in, your pussy soaking his cock buried inside you, surrendering to the moment, feeling more alive than you’d ever thought possible these last few days.

After drying off, the steam from the shower clung to your skin. The mirror fogged up just a bit from the warmth, but it only added to the intimacy of the moment. His hands gently cupped your waist as he stood close behind you. You could see his reflection in the mirror, his gaze intense as he met your eyes through the glass.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of your neck. His hands traced your sides slowly, memorizing every curve, every inch of you. “From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to protect you.”

The words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You’d never felt so seen, so cared for, as if everything about you mattered to him. He continued, his voice low, full of reverence, “You’re my priority. I would do anything for you. No one else matters but you.”

He stared at you in the mirror as his hard length entered you again. He moaned into your ear, the deep sound going to your pussy and making it throb as he began fucking you again. Your mouth fell open, the intimacy of the moment sending ripples of need through you. His large hands cupped your breasts, groping and tweaking your nipples as you met the roll of his hips, fucking him back as he pounded your pussy.

The mirror reflected the way his eyes softened as they traced your brown skin, his admiration for you evident in the way he held you. He kissed your shoulder, your neck and then your temple, the feel of his lips on you making you shiver.

“No one else matters. They don’t fucking matter, only my pretty little angel,” he murmured

With every thrust, he showed you just how much you meant to him, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. You could feel the care, the devotion, and the unwavering desire to be close to you, to cherish you in some lowkey sick and twisted way. It was a rare and overwhelming feeling, one that made your heart race and your pulse quicken.

“Every.part.of.you,” he murmured, thrusting with word, his lips brushing against your ear, “is.perfect.to.me.”

You couldn’t hold on much longer. He was right at the edge waiting too. Your hand reached behind him, bringing his head down to suck on your neck, his eyes still locked onto yours in the mirror as you squirted on his cock. Your pussy drenched him, your juices trailing down your thighs and his as you convulsed with him still inside you.

“That’s my good girl, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, deep inside this tight pussy. Take it for me sweetheart,” he groaned.

He let out a deep, guttural moan and you hummed in content, feeling his hot load fill you to the brim.

As your highs passed, you could feel the air between you slowly easing. His lips brushed against your temple, soft and tender, grounding you. His voice was gentle but firm, “I’m here. It’s just us now. That’s all that matters.”

His words were soothing you in a way that only he could. With delicate care, he cleaned you up, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just happened. Then, he led you to the bed, helping you lie down as he dressed you slowly, making sure you were comfortable.

“You’ll get all the answers you need,” he said quietly, his hand brushing a strand of your curls away from your face, “in due time. Just trust me. Be patient.”

You let out a soft breath, not fully understanding everything, but something in his words made you want to believe him. Trust. What a word. It was so simple yet so heavy. Could you really place it in his hands, when everything else felt so uncertain?

You looked up at him. “Trust,” you echoed, “you’re really good at making that sound easy.”

He returned your smile, though it was tinged with something darker, something unreadable. “I don’t need you to trust me now. Just know I’ll never let you go.”

4K notes · View notes

cinnamorollcrybaby · 9 months ago

Text

Doting

Tags: jjk men as dads, tooth-rotting fluff, comfort drabbles

Synopsis: How the JJK men treat you while pregnant (spoiler warning- they dote on you.)

An: This is my formal apology for writing Nanami angst on the “Baby’s first words” post 😔 it will never happen again (can we stop with the death threats now?)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

Oh, your loving husband is all over you while you’re pregnant. He genuinely has such a cute fascination with all the changes your body is going through. He seriously thinks you’re so strong for carrying his heir.

He loves rubbing your bump. In fact, he will always be touching it in some form or fashion while you two are together. When he’s away on missions, he has you send him pictures and updates on your pregnancy as if anything major has changed in a couple of days.

You best believe he is ready to indulge you on your every craving, no matter how strange. It’s three a.m and you’re crying because you need that specific brand of chicken wings and a can of whip cream? He’s heading to the store immediately to fetch whatever you tell him to.

He genuinely worries about being a good dad. Many nights he lays his head on your bump and talks to you about how teaching didn’t come naturally to him. He wasn’t born knowing how to meet people where they’re at. He use to expect people to be able to meet him on his level. He worries that he may inadvertently put a lot of pressure on his kid, and that’s the last thing he wants due to how he was raised. He just wants his kid to be a kid.

He’s the best, most loving and compassionate dad to your baby, more than you could ever hope for. Even if teaching didn’t come to him naturally, being a father did.

SUGURU

He’s such a “sit down and let me do it for you” while you’re pregnant. He cooks, cleans, works, and tends to you completely throughout your pregnancy.

Suguru gets hyper fixated on your health during pregnancy. He only feeds you the yummiest and healthiest foods while you’re pregnant. He encourages for you to sit on the yoga ball and do (very) light exercises. He just wants the best for you and his baby.

Whenever I said he tends to you, I genuinely mean he tends to you. He’ll gently brush your hair at night time, rub your back when your belly is becoming heavy to carry around, serve your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, carries around emesis bags and breath mints for if you get morning sickness while you two are out.

This man is the king of enforcing your boundaries to people when they don’t listen. That really annoying family member that insists on being there for the birth even though you’ve already explained to them that you want this to be an experience for just you and Geto? Yeah, he’s made it very clear to them that they will not be at the birth if they want to be in your kid’s life.

He is absolutely not afraid to hurt feelings if it means his wife and future child are safe and cared for. He really don’t give a fuck who anyone else is. You and his child are first priority.

TOJI

Toji is definitely the type to express his love and devotion for you in other ways than the most conventional methods.

He is so incredibly gentle while you’re pregnant. He doesn’t rile you up as much or play fight with you anymore. He constantly reminds himself that you’re carrying another life inside you and that you have enough on your plate.

This man… whew does he love seeing you pregnant. Toji’s the type of man to feel so feral when he looks at you heavily pregnant with his kid.

He adores your body. He’ll rub lotion all over you and oils to help your skin accommodate to the stretch of carrying a kid. He massages your body and absolutely worships it while he’s rubbing the lotion and oil on you.

Your breasts are sore? He’ll gently massage them until they feel better. Your back hurts? He’d be the type to lift your bump up and take the weight off you for as long as you ask him to so you can feel relaxed for a few minutes.

And look this is probably TMI but like, if you got a clogged milk duct due to breastfeeding, Toji would unfortunately be the type of man to fix that issue with his mouth. i’m sorry but he would.

Final thing is, you better believe that he doesn’t allow anyone to get too close to you. He is so unbelievably protective over you while you’re pregnant. If he could, he’d lock you up at home to prevent anyone from getting close to you.

SUKUNA

On the outside, he acts very nonchalant and unbothered by your pregnancy. On the inside, he is constantly plagued by the thought that your body may not be able to carry his heir. The thought of losing you or his child haunts him.

He will secretly observe and take notes on your body and how it is changing. If he catches you expressing any sort of short windedness, he will immediately send you off to bed rest. Though, you’re usually able to convince him to take you off of it by the next day.

The only servant he trusts to tend to you is Uraume. No one else in his court is allowed to be anywhere near you unless he gives specific instructions. Still, he hates leaving you in the care of Uraume. He trusts them, but he wants to be the one to take care of you.

He loves holding your body close to him at night. All four arms are wrapped around you and holding you closely. Since he doesn’t need much sleep, he will stay awake rubbing on your tummy all night long. One time, he felt the baby moving in your stomach while you were asleep. He was so intrigued that he woke you up and told you to “make them do it again”.

Now, he will randomly approach you at any given time while you’re heavily pregnant and hold his hand out so he can feel his baby moving around inside of you. It soothes his worry.

During birth, Sukuna was a complete mess. The amount of blood lost during birth fucking terrified him. He was panicking and yelling at anyone to do something to save you, even while everyone was assuring him that you’re okay and this was natural.

After 9 long excruciating months of extreme worry and constant fear, he finally feels peace when he’s cradling a newborn in his arm and a sleeping wife in the other arm. All of his hard work to protect you paid off he thinks.

NANAMI

Oh, to be pregnant by the king of domestic love himself.

Nanami is the type of man to immediately start working on a nursery for you as soon as you reveal to him that you’re pregnant. He immediately changes the guest bedroom into a nursery that you design for your little baby.

He reads up on all the parenting books and articles. He’s constantly compiling things to either do or to not do during pregnancy and even while raising a kid.

Like Geto, he tends to your every need. He is a total house husband all while working 40 hours a week. When he’s at work, he is constantly calling and texting you to make sure that you’re okay and taking care of yourself, but let’s be fr he literally did everything for you before he even left for work (meal prepped for you, set out your clothes for you, put out all your self care items in case you want to bathe).

When you express concerns of your body getting bigger to him, he does everything in his power to show you that he loves and respects your body for creating life. He literally cherishes and worships your body for hours if you let him.

Like Toji, Nanami is protective over you. He constantly has an arm around you if you two are in public, and he watches everyone who dares to get close to you like a hawk. If he gets a bad vibe about anyone, he’s immediately stepping in front of you and taking over the conversation.

Nanami is the best partner to have during birth. His reading of articles during your pregnancy really paid off. He is supportive without being overbearing. He listens to your needs and tends to you without question. Constant praise and encouragement while you’re giving birth. The moment he gets to snuggle with you and the baby is the moment he realizes that he cultivated the life of his dreams. He has the family he always wanted.

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nanamiskentos · 3 months ago

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34 + 35 = ?! ✤ jujutsu kaisen

SYN. ➤ just some simple hc's about the jujutsu kaisen men going down on you !

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Hiromi, Choso, Kashimo, Naoya [Separate]

cw ─ MDNI. oràl (f), spànking, squírting, overstím, fàce-sitting, reader is called a slút, fíngering, afab!reader

wc. 3k

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) ariana what are u doing here. lazy post ik...but i had a lot of fun writing it 😭

➤ SATORU GOJO

he is so cocky and smug about it. the strongest will go down with a lazy smile, taking his sweet, sweet time about reaching his destination in the world. a.k.a what lies in between your thighs. kissing n' teasing, licking as thoug he's eating a dessert he made himself.

there's constant jewel-blue eye contact through those impossibly long, snowy lashes, " awh, look at ya'. soo sensitive, pretty girl. " and god, he loves overstimulation, and he's not likely to stop when you (inevitably) cum, and he's such a manwhore, 'cause he'll be moaning into you as though he's the one being pleasured. and in a way he is, because this is nothing strenuous to him, not as long as he's got rct on his side.

gojo's gonna' put your legs over his bare, milky shoulders, and keep you there until you're absolutely shaking splayed out for him. he's absolutely treats going down on you like a game he's determined to win, and he knows he's good. and it shows, with every flick and curl of his pink, kiss-stung tongue.

and you just know how obsessed satoru is with the view, with your flushed cheeks and lidded eyes. trembling thighs, the way your hands grip the fine sheets, or his hair (the key to making him bust a fat load). and the sorcerer just can't shut up when he's eating you out, 'cause he's just talking so damn much! between sucks and licks, he teases you, whispering raspy things like, "already so wet, aren'tcha? and i haven't even gotten serious."

gojo's fingers are going to find your sweet spot and curl so deliciously, working perfectly in sync with his mouth. the more you cum. (because, let's face it, it's multiple times), the more turned on he gets, and he'll keep you on edge, overstimulated and glassy-eyed until he decides to fuck you.

➤SUGURU GETO

oh, he's so worshipping 'bout it. and slow, as though you're sacred, and he's got all the time in the world to pray between your thighs. he uses deep, languid strokes with his tongue, fingers lightly teasing your heat. and geto's definitely moaning softly into you, for he's enjoying this as much as you are.

suguru calls you 'baby' n' 'sweet thing' in the softest voice while his mouth absolutely ruins you. he'll grip your thighs tightly to hold you still when you start squirming, "don't run from it, angel. 'm not done."

and his approach is oh, so intimate. he'll lay you back, kissing the plush flesh of your inner thighs, tracing his fingers over your slick folds while watching every expression that crosses your face. he groans softly when he buries his mouth into you, and it vibrates through you.

geto's not really rushed 'bout it, and he'll luxuriate in the way you arch and sigh, like he's reading poetry in your body. when you tug his raven-silk hair, and roll your needy hips, it's an easy recipe to make him possessive. he holds you down with a rippling, strong arm over your stomach to double down.

and he loves drawing out orgasms, and he makes them so slow and steady, and powerful. "come on, baby. . . let go. let me have it." and if you're a little teary after? he kisses your thighs, admiring the marks that he's left, and rests his head there. probably falls asleep there, like a big cat.

➤ NANAMI KENTO

oh, kento is so thorough and precise. pretty methodical, but what else is expected from the 7:3 sorcerer? he studies you with every lick, learning every reaction, and making it a mission to make you fall apart.

he loves when you tangle your quivering fingers in his amber locks, and pull. probably makes him cum on the spot, but his sheer restraint in trying not to empty his balls turns you on even more, what can you say?

his voice drops several octaves (if that's even possible) when he's between your legs, smooth voice raspy as he coos at your reaction, your glossy cunt winking up at him, "that's it. . . let go for me." and he'll clean you up with his tongue as though it's his last task on earth.

because face it, nanami kento is a gentlemen everywhere else, but between your legs? he's relentless. he starts soft, like a slow kiss, but every motion is calculated. he memories exactly how you react to different forms of stimulation.

nanami grips your thighs firmly, pressing them apart as he dips his head and eats as though he's starved. he doesn't even care how long it takes, and you'll cum at least twice before he even considers stopping.

his deep, calm voice as he talks you through it is absolutely killer, "good girl. keep going, n' don't hold back for me, wife." (yeah he's got a diamond ring in the unfairly tight back pocket of his beige slacks).

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

filthy, so filthy. that's all you really need to know. he loves the taste, the mess, the slick. he honestly may have had some trepidation in the early days of his youth, but now he'll fall to his knees for his woman with little questions asked. he'll drag his tongue through you slow at first, primed to devour.

calloused hands spread you wide, holding you down, and it's a sign of little mercy for the night ahead, "you taste so fuckin' good, princess." he'll edge you with his mouth just enough to make you beg, then growl when you finally break, gushin' all over his handsome face.

you'll be yanked to the edge of the shared beg, legs thrown over his broad and rippling shoulders, and his face is buried before you can blink. his dark lashes already flapping in delight over hazy green eyes as he dives right in.

he licks at you fast, deep n' dirty, making noises as though he's addicted to way that you taste. he'll hold you down with one large, warm hand, gripping your hips, and using his other hand to finger you with much vigour, hitting all the right spots.

toji whines into you (but he'll pretend he didn't) and arc his fingers in a three-fingered smack over your sensitive clit, fascinated by the sloppy arc of release and arousal streaking through the air onto his face, "this pussy's all mine, huh? you gon' cum for me again, doll?"

he's always gonna' bite your inner thighs, leaving marks, and it leaves you even more soaked, cunt absolutely drooling over the front of his dark sweatshirt. and you're always going to finish with your legs shaking, locked around his head, and your mind spinning.

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

you don't get to cum until the king of curses says you can, let's be real. he will tease and taunt you, while barely brushing your clit with the rough, forked surface of his tongue.

he loves to watch you write, and he thinks (though he'll never admit it), that you're the loveliest sight in the entire world when you squirm, "beg louder, girl. maybe this time i'll actually give ya' what you want."

and when sukuna does go in? it's so brutal, sucking and licking, biting and blowing. he's always growling into you, so loss in the awe of watching your transparent arousal smear over your thighs, drip over his chin. true form sukuna uses two hands to hold you still, and the other two to spread you wide for him to slot in between the gap.

sukuna is cruel, deliberately so, and he'll lap at you softly, teasing your clit with the very tip of his tongue, holding you down while you whimper. if you beg? nah, it's not gonna' move him, and he's going to scoff, "pathetic. is that all it takes to break ya' ?"

there's little warning before he really lets loose, full tongue sucking your clit with insane pressure, alternating between a mind-blowing speed, and then, slow torment that leaves to a flooding torrent of arousal and release.

he'll edge you, deny you, then push you over so hard that your vision goes white. and he can go for hours, from when the sun rises 'till the moment the sun sets and disappears below the horizon. he absolutely kisses you sloppily to make sure you're tasting yourself afterwards.

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

the lawyer is surprisingly gentle. . . at first. soft kisses, and shy eye contact, and there's a flush that crawls over his pretty nose, over one temple to the other. but he grows obsessed with the way you sound when you moan and fall apart for him.

hiromi loves makin' you cum on his mouth, over and over. and you just know he loves having you perch your thighs over his face, sitting on it till he crassly jokes that this is his favourite way to go out, being waterboarded.

hiromi is also soft-spoken, but intense. he's a giver, and please you? it's his form of divine salvation. he holds your hips gently, tongue slow and reverent, dark eyes full of restrained hunger.

he starts sweet, but once he hears the right-pitched moan from you? he loses it entirely, and becomes feverish. hungrily lapping at your pussy, and not caring if the slick strands stick to the lapels of his (expensive) suit.

he's got long, elegant fingers, and he's definitely prodding them into your gummy, sticky walls as he eats you out. absolutely enamoured with how your voice cracks and break.

and hiromi is always going to moan into you, getting messy and off-kilter as his perfect composure is thrown out the window, and he's burying his face deeper into you, "you deserve this, let me show ya' just how good this can be.'

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

for the first week, kashimo pretended as though he was above it all. because, well, he's the strongest sorcerer of his (medieval) era and he'd never be caught doing something so. . . lewd. fortunately for all parties involved, he got one look at your bare thighs and almost fell to his knees, tearing up and pleading for a taste.

so aggressive and chaotic with it, because, of course, kashimo treats everything like a damn race, and a challenge. his tongue is like lightning, literally, fast and precise. overwhelming when you swear you feel a zap! of something sharp over your clit, and he shakes his head vehemently denying the use of his cursed technique, but his cyan eyes gleam with mischief.

kashimo grins when you squirm, grabbing your hips, "is this not what you asked for, little dove?" and he loves to taste you after a fight or a workout, and he'll often quote that there's nothing to get the blood pumping down there like a fight with a beautiful woman.

he's gonna' tease you with barely there touches, and then suddenly leap all in, leaving you gasping and tugging the two bundles of teal hair atop his choppy layers, sorta' like handlebars.

will laugh, low and wild, when you cum too fast, "that easily? huh, it did not take much, hmm?" and he's insatiable about all of it, biting at your clit with gentle pressure to have your thighs tremble and suffocate him in between your legs.

"come on, little dove. one more, you can give me one more." his pink mouth is swollen, smeared with your release, and he's got the most priggish, satisfied grin painted over his face.

fingers never letting up with their pace as he buries them deep within you, that overstimulation mingling pain with pleasure till it ebbs away into quick orgasm after orgasm.

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

he has the worst attitude, but the best mouth. you know he's arrogant as hell, and it shows in how he eats you out. and he probably only does it so he has something to laud over you later, but he can't also deny the very faint pink flush dusted over his creamy skin.

"tch', do ya' really think you deserve this?" he's humming, smearing a thumb over your aching clit, "beg properly, and then, maybe i'll give you what you want."

and but when he finally goes down on you, it's intense and messy, fast and precise. unfortunately, he knows what he's doing, and he's so smug about it. he licks at you as though he's proving a point, winning an argument, and if you don't scream his name, he'll take it super personally.

"oh, so now 'm not doing it good enough for ya', is that it?" so, basically, he's going to sulk later if you don't end up gushing over his face. naoya holds your thighs wide open, thumbs digging into your skin so you can't even move, and he wants you trembling.

there's constant eye contact as he eats you out, 'cause he wants you to know that it's him, giving you this much pleasure, and you can see the lidded, dark gaze clouding over his topaz, jewel-tone eyes. pink tongue pressed flat against your throbbing bud, rolling it slow just to watch your face. quickly alternating the pace to flick it rapidly, as arousal leaks out of you, and you're moaning.

"all pretty n' dumb when i'm eating ya' out like this, eh?" and if you try to close your legs from the sheer stimulation, naoya is going to get even meaner, "did i say you could run away?" you cum once, and he doesn't stop nor slow down. tawny, sand-blonde hair plastered to his head as he picks up the pace, "one isn't enough, wifey. not for a slut like you."

and when he does pull away, his mouth is glistening, and he makes a big show of wiping your sticky arousal away, and making faux noises of disgust (you can see the dark, translucent patch over the groin of his fine haori). but he shoves his fingers back into you, "don't pass out, idiot. 'm not done."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

oh, he deserves his own shrine for the way he eats your cunt. he's so quiet about it at first, no teasing nor taunting. just that intense gold-hazel as he drops to his bulky knees, hands gliding up your thighs like you're somethin' precious.

he's so slow and cautious about at first, treating you like a personal alter. kissing at your folds gently, nibbling at the edges of your outer folds. but choso eats you out as though he's starving.

wide tongue flat, licking deep and fast instinctually, then sucking your clit into his mouth with a firm n' sloppy pressure. you make one noise, one mere moan that bubbles past your lips, and choso loses it. groaning into you, fingers digging into his hips as he pushes your legs up to his broad shoulders, atop his soft, white robes.

choso is absolutely the type to cum in his pants just from making you climax, and he needs not even touch himself. he's just that obsessed with the way you taste, the way your thighs squeeze his head, and obscure the rest of the vision until all he can see are the dewy beads of release dripping from your glossy pussy.

he's always panting, messy, with his tongue darting between your folds as though he's desparate and breathless, "you taste so good. . . i can't stop. i don't want to stop." and when you do cum, he's over joyous, and he continues right through your orgasm. hurtling through your first climax to knock down the door to your second.

choso groans into you, face soaked, tongue fucking you through it while you writhe, tugging his stringy, dark hair, "i know, i know, sweet thing. you can give me another one." but afterwards, he's dazed, pupils blown and lips shining, and you know he's proud as hell of himself.

if you sit on his face, he'll moan like a virgin seeing heaven for the first time. hands on the plush of your ass, tongue poking out, and eyes shut, just letting you ride and snag the hood of your clit against the slope of his nose.

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angelfishe · 4 months ago

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>> 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

Yandere genshin men x reader ( GODS AU ) Characters : diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, kaveh, zhongli, Childe, wriothesly, neuvilette.

The most desired goddess of them all, beloved and hated by many for their beauty. an ethereal being whose mere presence captivates mortals and gods alike. Your touch can inspire devotion, and your gaze alone has driven kingdoms to war. But among your admirers, a few stand out—gods who don’t just worship you, but obsess over you. Their love is consuming, possessive, and inescapable.

Inspired by Greek mythology, the reader is inspired by Aphrodite

DILUC ( GOD OF FIRE AND RETRIBUTION )

A god of fire who embodies both destruction and renewal. He is worshiped by warriors and those seeking revenge against the corrupt. His followers believe that while his flames burn away evil, they also cleanse and bring rebirth. Despite his cold demeanor, he deeply values justice and protection. Your husband in contract.

Diluc’s love is like an unrelenting flame—it burns fiercely, searing away anything that threatens to take you from him. He believes that only he can truly protect you from the dangers of the divine and mortal realms alike. If another god dares to court you, he will see it as an act of war. His devotion is suffocating; he would burn entire cities to the ground if it meant keeping you safe and by his side.

Diluc is not blind. He sees the way other gods look at you—with longing, desperation, even defiance. It infuriates him to no end. He already won you, already made you his. What more do they want? His flames burn with rage at the mere thought of someone trying to take you away. If anyone dares to overstep, he will make an example of them—turning his divine fury upon them until they are nothing but ashes.

"You don’t need them. You don’t need anyone but me. Why risk your heart with those who will only betray you? I will guard you, worship you, love you... even if I must destroy the world to do so."

KAEYA ( GOD OF DECEPTION AND SECRETS )

A mysterious and cunning god, known for his silver tongue and ability to manipulate fate. He is neither entirely good nor evil, often testing mortals with riddles and half-truths. His followers pray to him for guidance in uncovering secrets—or keeping them hidden. Some believe he knows the answers to the world’s greatest mysteries but only shares them for a price.

Kaeya doesn’t just love you—he owns you. Or at least, that’s how he sees it. His love is a twisted game where he ensures you’ll never escape him, even if it means lying, tricking, or breaking you. He whispers sweet words, poisons the thoughts of others who dare approach you, and ensures that no one but him truly understands you. If you try to resist, you’ll soon find that every path leads back to him.

Kaeya loves a challenge, and what’s more thrilling than stealing the Goddess of Love from her own husband? He knows Diluc watches him with fire in his eyes, but that only makes the game more enticing. He’s always near, offering honeyed words, whispering promises of a love sweeter than flames. Wouldn’t it be more exciting to run away, to escape with someone who truly understands you?

"Marriage is just a word… isn’t it. does marriage truly mean love? Or is it just another contract, another chain? If you ever find yourself bored with that brute I'll promise you a night of passion… you know where to find me"

ALHAITHAM ( GOD OF REASON AND KNOWLEDGE )

A god who values intellect above all, often challenging mortals to think for themselves rather than blindly follow others. His temples are filled with scholars and scientists seeking enlightenment.

Alhaitham does not believe in fate, yet his obsession with you defies all logic. He has studied every aspect of your existence, analyzed every interaction, and concluded one undeniable truth: you were meant to be his.

Your marriage to Diluc? An incorrect equation. A mistake. A flaw in the grand design. He is patient, methodical—unlike the others who act on impulse. He won’t challenge Diluc with brute force or desperate pleas. Instead, he will plant doubts, whisper truths, and dismantle the foundations of your love, piece by piece.

"Love is not about passion or fire—it is about compatibility, understanding, and permanence. And by all rational measures… he is not your match. I am."

KAVEH ( GOD OF ART AND ARCHITECTURE )

A passionate and emotional god who values artistic expression above all else. He blesses architects, poets, and dreamers, urging them to create beauty in a harsh world. However, he often struggles with his own perfectionism, torn between ideals and reality. His temples are among the most breathtaking structures in existence, filled with intricate designs and stories carved into stone.

you are a masterpiece—the ultimate muse, the divine inspiration that makes life worth living. His love is suffocating in a different way: he needs you. Without you, he is nothing. He would carve statues, build temples, and dedicate his very existence to you, no matter the cost. But his devotion is unstable—his jealousy and desperation lead him to tear down anything that threatens to steal your love from him.

To Kaveh, your marriage is an absolute heartbreak. He sees himself as the only one who can truly understand you, truly cherish you. He paints murals of you in secret, builds shrines in your honor, whispers prayers of devotion. Every word from his lips is drenched in longing.

"I could have built you a palace fit for a goddess… Instead, you are trapped in his cage of fire. If only you had chosen me…"

ZHONGLI ( GOD OF CONTRACT AND KING OF THE GODS )

A god-king who rules with both wisdom and an iron fist. Unlike his more passive form as the God of Contracts, an unyielding monarch who commands the earth itself. His laws are absolute, and defying him leads to destruction. It is said that mountains bow to his will, and the very ground trembles when he speaks.

Zhongli, the King of the Gods, does not ask for what he wants—he simply takes it. He has ruled over divinity for eons, shaping the heavens and earth to his will. And you? The Goddess of Love and Beauty? You are the only being who has ever tested his patience.

Your marriage to Diluc is a mistake, a flaw in destiny that he will correct. He has watched, waited, given you time to understand the inevitable truth: you were always meant to be his. Yet you continue to resist. It is almost amusing.

"Mortal concepts like marriage hold no power over gods like us, my dear. You belong to me, as you always have. It is not a matter of choice—it is divine law."

CHILDE ( GOD OF CHAOS AND WAR )

A god of endless battle, unpredictable and relentless. He tests warriors by dragging them into brutal conflicts, favoring those who fight with heart over those who fight with strategy. Despite his violent nature, he values family and loyalty above all else. His followers believe that the sound of crashing waves is his war drum, calling them to battle.

Love is a battlefield, and he is willing to fight for you. He has never backed down from a challenge, and your marriage to Diluc is simply another war to win. He constantly challenges Diluc, hoping to defeat him and claim you as his reward. His devotion is as violent as it is passionate.

He grows frustrated when you defend Diluc, but that only fuels his desire to prove himself. To him, you belong to the one who fights hardest for you.

"What’s a piece of paper and some vows compared to real devotion? When I carve my love into the battlefield, will you still deny me?"

WRIOTHESLY ( GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD AND DEATH )

A god who rules the underworld with an iron yet fair hand. He does not seek cruelty, but neither does he tolerate injustice. Those who are cast into his domain are given a chance to redeem themselves—but only if they prove their strength and integrity.

You are the warmth in his cold, dark domain, the one thing that can soften his hardened heart. Unfortunately his duties in the underworld has made great a divider between you and him being together, the last time he saw you was your wedding day with diluc and he watched from the shadows seeing the one he loved the most being taken.

He respects the contract between you and diluc but what about him, he always fantasizes being with you but now you're in the arms of someone else maybe if he could find ways to bind you towards him being unable to leave the underworld maybe that's the only way to finally have you.

"Mortals and gods alike fight for your love, but only I am willing to keep you safe—forever. Even death will not take you from me."

NEUVILETTE ( THE SOVEREIGN OF WATERS )

Neuvillette is not merely a god—he is the first water, the primordial ocean from which all things were born. When the heavens and earth were still divided, he existed as an endless sea, a formless deity whose essence gave life to rivers, rain, and the tears shed by mortals. Legends say that his very presence dictates the balance of the world—when he weeps, storms ravage the land; when he is calm, the seas turn to glass. He is justice incarnate, not in the way of laws, but in the way water finds its path, carving through mountains and drowning kingdoms alike.

As the Primordial God of Water, Neuvillette is not one to be ruled by fleeting emotions—or so he tells himself. He has existed since before time, before love itself was given a name. He has seen kings rise and fall, empires swallowed by the tides, and yet… When he learns that you, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, have chosen another, he does not rage like the others... He weeps.

Neuvillette does not hate your marriage. He does not fight it, nor does he curse it. But he watches. He waits. Because fire will always burn itself out. And when that day comes, he will be there—as he always has been, and always will be.

"You have only to step into the tide, and I will take you where you truly belong."

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jordiemeow · 1 month ago

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joaquin torres is such an EATER. look at the jawline, the cheeky smile, the big beautiful eyes. UGHHH NEED HIM BETWEEN MY THIGHS

yeahhhhh joaquín eater jaw… yum

he’s SUCH a giver. that shit is like therapy to him. especially after a long mission (and having to deal with sam shooting down every one of his jokes) he just wants to nestle himself between your thighs and devote himself to worshipping your pretty pussy. and god is his tongue skilled.

sometimes it’s messy and lazy. just laving up everything that spills out of you, or lifting his head and smirking cheekily up at you as you watch him spit, saliva dripping from his tongue down to your cunt. other times he’s real methodical about it. alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue against your entrance and suckling on your clit like it’ll bring him salvation. he’s got that shit down to a science—he knows how to bring you right to the edge and then ease up on the suction just before you get there. it’s all about prolonging your (and his) pleasure.

“don’t want this to be over too fast, mami.” he flashes a pearly-toothed smile, chin shining with your slick arousal before he dives right in again to soothe your complaints by tongue-fucking you until you see stars. big nose nudging your swollen clit, hands holding your legs spread open when you try to squirm away from the onslaught of sensations.

loves to hear you cry out his name again and again; he’s not doing right if your voice isn’t breaking on the second syllable. such a sucker for eye contact when he’s bringing you pleasure. he thrives off the way your jaw slackens and your eyes grow all heavy, fisting his hair and trying to draw him into you. talks you through it the entire time, even if his words are slurred praises into your pussy like “god baby, you taste so fucking good, i could do this forever” or “you close for me? my pretty girl gonna cum for me?”

definitely the kind of guy to eat you through two orgasms before he even considers fucking you and getting himself off. he’d spend the rest of his life between your thighs if it was up to him.

joaquín torres oral fixation truthers rise up ✊

#my munch <3 #jo asks ⋆˚࿔#jo blurbs ⋆˚࿔#cass <3 #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres x you #marvel smut

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flwrkid14 · 5 months ago

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The Reincarnation of Romance

Tim doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in statistics, in probabilities, in cold, hard logic. He believes in data points and patterns and cause and effect.

Danny doesn’t believe in fate either. He believes in choices, in carving your own path, in standing at the precipice of the unknown and stepping forward anyway.

And yet—

There is something undeniably fated about them.

Something in the way Tim’s fingers trail along Danny’s wrist like he’s tracing the life thread of his own existence. Something in the way Danny says Tim’s name like a whispered prayer, like the world could crumble around them and it wouldn’t matter as long as they were together.

Something ancient, something timeless.

Tim doesn’t believe in past lives. And yet, when he looks at Danny, there is a familiarity that stretches beyond reason, beyond explanation. It’s in the way Danny leans into his touch like he’s done it a thousand times before. It’s in the way Tim worships him so openly, so effortlessly, without hesitation.

Like instinct. Like inevitability.

The family doesn’t know what to do with them.

Tim, whose love is all-consuming, who would burn the world to the ground if it ever so much as thought of harming Danny. Danny, who welcomes Tim’s obsession with the amused indulgence of a man who was clearly adored in another lifetime and carries the memory of it in his bones.

Danny sweeps Tim into his arms at a moment’s notice, presses kisses against his wrist with breathless adoration, waxes poetic about Tim’s brilliance, his beauty, his mind.

Tim, for his part, is indulgent. Amused. He watches Danny with dark, knowing eyes, lips quirked in a smile that betrays nothing but quiet satisfaction. He tilts his chin up just slightly when Danny kisses his hand, his wrist, the inside of his palm. A queen granting favor.

They move through the world as though they exist on some other plane, where every touch is sacred and every look is a vow.

They are impossible to be around.

“Mon amour,” Danny gasps the moment Tim steps into the room, eyes alight with an adoration that borders on worship. He strides forward, hands already reaching for Tim’s waist, his arms, anything he can hold.

Tim hums, tilting his head as Danny presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Darling,” he murmurs, amusement dancing at the edges of his voice.

Jason groans. Steph makes a gagging noise.

“You were apart for five minutes,” Duke says flatly.

“Five minutes too long,” Danny insists, pressing his forehead dramatically against Tim’s shoulder. “The sun is cold without you, my love.”

Tim lifts a delicate brow, but his fingers still come up to tangle in Danny’s hair, slow and methodical. A caress disguised as nothing at all. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

A smile, small and sharp, curls at the edges of Tim’s lips. “A tragic truth.”

Cass watches them with knowing and amused eyes. Duke mutters something about how it’s “so much worse in person.” Damian looks between them with deep suspicion but diligently sketches the scene anyway.

And Bruce? Bruce has seen a lot of things in his life. He’s fought gods, stood against the impossible, watched the world bend and break and come back together again.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the reincarnation of Odysseus and Penelope manifesting in his own home.

Tim and Danny don’t care.

Tim is obsessed. Tim is devoted. Tim is utterly, ridiculously in love, and he makes sure Danny knows it every waking moment of his existence.

Danny basks in it.

They have done this before, in another life, in another time, and they will do it again in the next.

Because, for Tim and Danny, love is eternal.

#tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #tim and danny are odysseus and penelope reincarnated #the ithaca saga actually broke me so bad #true love is being insufferable together #death do us never part #reincarnated lovers #obsessed? devoted? worshipful? yes #if he's not dropping to his knees in adoration i dont want it

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gingerkunoichii · 6 months ago

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☆ Yandere Naruto Men and their Obsession with You ☆

MASTERLIST Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha.

Warnings: abusive relationships, control, emotional manipulation, lovebombing, obsessive crazy love, isolation, intense jealousy, violence, almost physical abuse.

His Loving Obsession • Naruto isn’t just obsessed—he’s everywhere. His sunshine demeanour means no one questions it when he’s constantly by your side, always checking in, always making sure you’re okay. But behind the smiles and laughter, there’s something darker—a need so strong it borders on suffocation. Every time you smile at someone else, every time you talk about your plans without him, his stomach twists, and that friendly grin becomes just a little tighter. • Naruto doesn’t just love you—he worships you. He remembers every little thing about you, from your favourite snack to the way you like your coffee. He’ll show up with small surprises—your favorite candy, a new book you mentioned in passing, a blanket because he noticed you shivering the other day. He’s always thinking about you, always looking for ways to make you smile. • Naruto is a master at making you feel guilty without ever outright saying it. If you spend time with someone else, his expression falls just enough to make your chest ache. “Do you really think they care about you the way I do?” There’s no malice in his voice, only a quiet vulnerability that makes your chest ache. He’s not trying to control you (or so it seems)—he just can’t bear the thought of losing you to someone who doesn’t love you as deeply as he does.

• His jealousy is weirdly explosive. If someone flirts with you, his entire demeanour shifts. The laughter stops, his voice drops, and his eyes harden. It's like he's a whole different person. He’s quick to insert himself between you and the “threat,” acting like the person speaking to you is some sort of strange pervert, making it awkward for everyone.

• Naruto’s love becomes all-consuming. His hugs are tight, his hands always on you—your waist, your arm, the small of your back. He needs the reassurance of your presence, needs to feel your warmth under his fingers. His kisses are soft but desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his feelings into every movement, whispering against your lips, “No one can take you from me, Y/N.” You're so bombarded by him that you have no space to ever question it.

His Toxic Obsession

• Shikamaru doesn’t just watch you—he studies you. Every word you say, every nervous habit, every glance you throw at someone else—it’s all meticulously catalogued in his mind. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he uses that knowledge like a weapon. When he speaks to you, it’s with a precision that leaves you reeling and self-doubting, his words cutting straight to the heart of your insecurities and desires. • He isn’t loud or obvious when he cuts people out of your life. He does it quietly, methodically, in ways you don’t notice until it’s too late. Maybe he “accidentally” forgets to tell you about a group hangout or makes plans that conveniently overlap with your commitments to others. Before you realize it, he’s the only constant in your life, the only person you can turn to. “See? It’s just us now. It’s easier this way.” • Shikamaru doesn’t need to raise his voice to control you. His calm, measured tone is enough to make you second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Y/N? I mean, do what you want, but…” His words always trail off, leaving you to fill in the blanks. And when you do change your mind, he’s there with a lazy smirk, like he knew you would all along.

• When Shikamaru finally confesses, it’s not a plea—it’s a statement. “I’ve been patient with you. I’ve let you figure things out on your own, but it’s time you see what’s obvious.” His voice is low, steady, leaving no room for argument, your self-worth is so battered down from everything he's done you actually believe him, actually want to be with him.

• Shikamaru’s love is suffocating, an intricate web of manipulation and control that feels impossible to escape. But beneath the darkness, there’s an unsettling tenderness—a quiet devotion that makes you hesitate. “I only do this because I love you,” he says, his voice soft, almost vulnerable. And in those moments, you wonder if he truly believes it. If maybe, somehow, he’s convinced himself that this twisted, obsessive love is what you need.

His Unrelenting Obsession

• Sasuke’s fixation is nothing short of paralyzing. His eyes follow you everywhere, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting you piece by piece. It’s suffocating, the way he can hold you in place with just a look, his intensity seeping into every interaction until it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. He had never been so entranced by someone or something before you. • Sasuke wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle anything—or anyone—that threatens his control. A co-worker who’s too friendly? Suddenly, they’re fired over a baseless rumour. A friend who tries to intervene? They start receiving anonymous threats. It’s never loud or messy; it’s surgical, precise. He’s a ghost in the machine, orchestrating your isolation with a chilling efficiency that leaves you wondering if you’re imagining it when he acts the same as he always does - cool and detached. • Sasuke would make you dependent on him without you even realizing it. He’d insert himself into every aspect of your life—your confidant, your protector, your only constant. When things fall apart (because he made sure they would), he’s the one picking up the pieces, whispering, “You don’t need anyone else. I’ll take care of you.” And in your weakest moments, it feels like the truth. • If you ever try to leave him, Sasuke’s calm exterior would shatter. He wouldn’t yell or beg—he’d act. Your phone? Smashed. Your keys? Gone. Every avenue of escape meticulously closed off until the only person you can turn to is him. His voice would drop to a dangerous whisper: “Everyone has left me. You don't get to do that, Y/N.” And when he says it, it feels like a vow—a terrifying, irreversible truth. • Beneath the darkness, there’s a twisted form of love—a desperate, all-consuming need to keep you safe, to keep you his. Sasuke genuinely believes that what he’s doing is for your own good, that no one else could possibly love you the way he does. And in his mind, it’s not obsession—it’s destiny. You were meant to be his, no matter the cost.

His Devoted Obsession

• Kakashi’s tactics are subtle and insidious, cloaked in warmth and care. He’d insert himself into your life in ways that feel natural, like he’s just a dependable friend who’s always there when you need him, always appearing when things are going dire. But it’s calculated. Every comforting word, every thoughtful gesture, every perfectly timed “coincidence” is part of his plan to weave himself into the fabric of your life. “You looked a little overwhelmed, so I thought I’d step in.” • Kakashi convinces himself that his obsession is rooted in a desire to protect you, that it's normal he would be like this after everything that had happened to him throughout his life. If you’re in danger, he’s the first one there, stepping in with a calm authority that leaves no room for argument. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” • His charm is his greatest weapon. He knows how to put you at ease, to make you laugh, to make you feel safe. His lazy demeanour and soft-spoken words hide the intensity of his obsession, lulling you into a false sense of security, that he would never do anything to hurt you. When he teases you, his tone is light and playful, but there’s an edge to his smile that makes your pulse quicken.

• Kakashi doesn’t need to be loud or aggressive to isolate you—he’s far too smart for that. Instead, he subtly plants doubt in your mind about the people around you. “They didn’t seem very supportive of you earlier, did they?” “Are you sure they have your best interests at heart?” His tone is so soft, so thoughtful and seemingly wise, that you don’t realize he’s slowly nudging you into relying on him alone. • He doesn’t see his actions as manipulative or controlling—they’re protective, necessary. “I can't lose you, not after losing everyone else,” he’ll say, his voice so soft and convincing that you genuinely believe him. But the truth is, Kakashi’s love is a cage, and no matter how warm and comforting it feels, it’s one you’ll never escape.

His Desperate Obsession

• He loves you so desperately, so tenderly, with full unrestrained love. It feels like you were swept off your heels by him and his intensity, the way he knew he wanted you from the beginning and the way you completely crumbled underneath him was almost pathetic. He loves you like no one has before, gifting you thoughtful things he knows you like, listening to everything you say with genuine interest. He protects you, no one bothers you whilst you're with him suddenly - and you don't quite understand. • Itachi carries the ghosts of his clan in every step, every breath, every calculated action. He’s spent his entire life sacrificing, losing everything to protect what he loves. But you? You’re something he can’t sacrifice, something he won’t. He tells himself that this time, he won’t fail, won’t let the people he loves slip through his fingers. This time, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, no matter the cost. • Itachi’s protectiveness goes beyond reason. He’s already failed once, letting his clan fall under his blade for the greater good, and he refuses to fail again. He doesn’t trust the world to keep you safe, so he takes matters into his own hands. The friend who’s too nosy? Gone without a trace. The ex who tries to reach out? Shows up in the news dead. You don’t see the strings he’s pulling, the shadows he’s working in, but the world around you becomes eerily smooth, free of threats. “You’re safe with me,” he’d say, his tone so calm, so certain, that you believe him. • His obsession is fuelled by guilt as much as love. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, not after what he’s done, but that only makes him cling to you harder. You’re his second chance, his proof that he can protect something without destroying it. He doesn’t tell you this—he doesn’t want to burden you with his darkness—but every glance, every touch carries the unspoken weight of his guilt. “You make me feel human again,” he’d admit in a rare moments of vulnerability. • If you ever tried to leave, Itachi wouldn’t react with anger or desperation. His voice would stay calm, his movements controlled, but there would be a finality in his words that makes your stomach twist. one that you know you can't resist because at this point he had made himself the top of the pyramid in your life. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. The world isn’t safe for you without me.” And if you push further, he’d step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve already lost everyone I’ve ever loved. I won’t let it happen again. Not with you.”

His Masked Obsession

• When you first meet him, when you're only friends he keeps up the guise of Tobi. Tobi is a harmless goof, all smiles and playful antics. He makes you laugh, brightens your day, and slips into your life so easily it feels natural. But Tobi isn’t real—he’s a shield, a distraction from the storm brewing beneath. Every laugh, every clumsy joke is calculated, a way to draw you closer, to make you trust him. “See? Tobi’s a good boy!” he chirps, his eyes gleaming with something darker than innocence. • As Tobi, he drowns you in affection. He remembers every little thing you like, shows up with thoughtful gifts “just because,” and tells you how much you mean to him at every opportunity. “You’re Tobi’s favourite person! No one else compares!” His voice is light, his tone warm, and it’s easy to feel safe around him. • The switch happens when you least expect it. The moment you cross a line he doesn’t like—talking to someone else for too long, brushing off his affection, or even hinting at distance—the mask shatters. His voice drops and lowers, his posture stiffens, and the playful Tobi disappears. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his tone sharp and cutting. It’s a complete shift, like you’re staring into the eyes of someone you don’t recognize. • Losing Rin shattered Obito, and the thought of losing you pushes him over the edge. Every moment he isn’t with you feels like a threat, every smile you give someone else feels like a betrayal. He projects his pain onto you, his desperation spilling out in violent outbursts followed by trembling apologies. “I can’t lose you,” he growls, his hands fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer. “Not again. Not ever.” • After every outburst, Tobi returns, full of apologies and desperate affection. He showers you with gifts, clings to you like a lost puppy, and whispers tearful apologies. “Tobi’s so sorry! Tobi didn’t mean to scare you!” His voice is trembling, his hands gentle as he cups your face. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can’t live without you, how he’ll do better. • Obito’s love is suffocating, destructive, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path. He doesn’t see his violence as cruelty—it’s protection. He doesn’t see his obsession as wrong—it’s love. “I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me,” he says, his voice calm but his eyes wild. “Even you, if I have to.” And in his mind, that’s not a threat—it’s a promise.

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