#like why and how is he hot AND cute at the same time???????

[bloodchapell]

castle of sand — senku i. 17: visage of time

brief summary: all the things in the dark that light brings out

what to expect: slight (barely noticeable) deviance from canon, failed attempt of a kiss 💀

your sword's note: THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE KILL ME NOW, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available on my mistresslist

"Ominous feeling in the environment, can't operate." You sat by the doors of the hut, resting your arms on the edge and looking outside. Senku took the hammer from his pocket and smacked you very softly and methodically with it, repeatedly, as if he was actually doing something. 

"Elaborate?"

"I have no elaborations." You sighed dramatically. "It's this feeling, like a hunch, but is based on nothing."

"Well some purple minion arrived from Tsukasa, that's ominous enough." 

"This is not about Gen." You interrupted immediately. "I am aware of Gen's ambiguity but I get him like a cup of water, he is no danger for us, he will be on our side in due time. This feeling is uncalled for, hence." 

"Well sorry, I can't help." A shrug from Senku. 

The iron bar was ready, sitting idly in the hut. Senku had found Chrome's copper and had melted it into a wire, which wrapped around the iron, confusingly, seemingly pointless. The only thing needed was lighting, which seemed somewhat primitive and fanciful, so you were all waiting for a storm. Suika was sitting beside you, looking around the hut, she was singing children's songs which you had taught her, clapping around while doing nothing. Senku looked at her, following along in his mind the lyrics of the songs he had learned in kindergarten with you. 

"I am thinking of cutting my hair..." You mumbled taking the strands away from your face. 

"Why?" 

"It is too hot, it gets annoying." 

And so, Suika grabbed a sharp blade and sat behind you. Senku pretended to do something else, but observed closely. 

"All done!" Suika said, walking around you to see. 

"You look like a perfectly diagonally slashed pineapple from Fruit Ninja." Senku laughed at you, putting his hand in an angle. 

"You can always be a perfectly diagonally slashed pineapple." You smiled. "I don't care that much about my appearance, especially in this stone world, but do not insinuate that my haircut —which my child did— is bad."

"Wow, a death threat, how innovative." Senku rolled his eyes. "It is okay, if you ignore symmetry and conventions of our society, but indeed Suika did her best so it is actually not bad at all."

He grabbed your face, turning it around to examine it, shrugged and let it go, to go back to his chore.

"I am somewhat bored, this is the perfect afternoon for doing so many things that are actually nothing, maybe watch a long YouTube video, or karaoke, or changing up my hair only to realize I don't like it... there is not much entertainment in this world..."

"Right!?" Gen said from the stairs. "So what is the gossip in this world? Why were you the first revived?" He climbed into the house, you were still wary of him, but in a boring world he was welcomed.

"Thinking capability...?" You asked, looking back at Senku, he nodded. 

"I don't think there is anyone else that thinks as much as she does, aside from me, for sure. If the catalyst for reviving someone with sheer willpower and nitric acid is thinking, no one else came to mind. And it worked."

"That is so sweet!" Calculated but swift, Gen knew what he was saying. Senku looked at you, you looked at him, then both sets of eyes went to Gen, a grimace lacking emotion, judgmental even. 

"No." You punctuated and that was it. 

"Sooo, how did you two get to know each other?" Gen asked with a cat smile. 

"Why is this relevant?" You asked.

"I am bored too." Gen noted like it was a simple statement, but you could see the traces of evil behind his facial facade. 

"Piece of shit." Senku nodded with a bothered smile. "We have studied together since we started studying, lived in the same apartment complex, what else...? That is about it." 

"And where does that lead us now?" Gen asked. 

"Full-time roommates, associates, archenemies even." Senku explained with detail, completely sure.

"Seems flawed." Gen said thinking. "What about this unnamed thing?"

"I'll kindly ask you to quit." You mumbled. Gen and Suika looked at each other, Suika shrugged. 

Senku avoided thinking about it, at least in that moment when he was inventorying Chrome's rocks; he had thought about it, enough, and he would think about it too once night fell, there was no point in losing neurons over the same concepts: familiarity, survival, attraction, instinct. He did not want to admit that he was also plagued, just as plagued as Chrome, as Gen, probably as Suika who in her eternal wisdom held her silence about the topic, but he was. He was plagued when he would inevitably hold you tightly in his arms when sleeping, his face pressed against your chest or vice versa, when he would glance at you and just know that even if a deity came down from heaven and made you bald, he would still find you attractive, when he would wonder why you lacked ambition when it came to romance, that was a big one. 

Factually, Senku had spent his time before conciliating sleep the last nights wondering about it; yes, he was against relationships and he thought love was illogical despite being science, but it bothered him that you were not paying attention to it, he would have noticed if you were, he would have seen your eyes flutter away from his gaze if you were getting flustered with his presence, or he would have heard a very reconditioned ramble about your feelings as a metaphor, but he did not. From your side, nothing had changed since the acknowledgement, you held him as close as before, you treated him the same as before. He wondered, and wondered, and wondered, why you didn't care for reciprocation? Or why you were fine with things being like they were? He wanted to know, but he did not want to ask. 

A loud thud from the sky. 

The villagers were talking about hiding from the wrath of the heavens, you laughed, after all lighting could kill and they were simple minded people. There was something comforting about thunderstorms. For some reason your mind wandered away as you all walked towards a mountain as per Chrome's guidance to catch some lighting. It had been a year before petrification, when Senku still hated you —allegedly not—, despite that he still crashed at your place to use your telescope, it was 3am or so, and you were watching a meteor shower together, he rambled about Leonids and you rambled about the feeling of the sky falling upon you, and then the clouds obstructed the lens and the sky roared in thunders; your words diverted to talking about the storm, and oddly, probably because of the sleep deprivation, Senku stayed quiet and listened to you. 

When you came back to reality, the rain had ceased and you were at the top of the mountain, with newly acquired strong magnets. The walk back to the village was full of chatter, Senku explaining to Chrome what to do next, Ginro mocking Kinro for the loss of his gold spear, Kohaku threatening Gen, it felt nice, but in that moment you missed the simplicity of modern life, at least from that Leonids thunderstorm.

"Still like thunders as much as ever?" Senku elbowed you softly to get your attention, it took you a second to process, but you nodded. "Tell you after?" 

"M'kay." 

He wanted to talk, chat about something stupid only you could understand, probably something modern, maybe Gen could understand too but he was still in a gray trust area, but he was busy. 

Melting more copper for the discs took some extra exploitation that thankfully Gen and Gan'en took care of. Making the generator was oddly simple, Chrome flattened the copper with corundum, Kohaku and Suika polished the edges and you covered the wire with lacquer. 

"Aren't you allergic to lacquer?" You asked, holding Senku's face. "You are going to die... and with that utterly ridiculous appearance after all! Years of farming charm, for nothing!" 

"I won't die, my farmed charm will remain in my inventory."

The generator was probably one of the easiest projects completed, forgetting the hellish iron baking and the life-endangering lighting chasing, but alas, it was done. Gen tricked Ginro and Kinro into powering the generator by insinuating that electricity could make gold and silver spears. So while they practiced, Senku and Chrome ran off to make something off bamboo while Suika, Gen and you cooked the lunch that Kohaku brought. Lunch was boring and you took a nap with Suika on the floor for an hour or so. 

The big reveal happened when it got dark. Chrome and Senku climbed to the top of the hut. You stood watching beside Gen and Kohaku, with Suika in your arms so she could see better how the light turned on once the bamboo filament entered in contact with the wires. It was a dim light that barely illuminated the thickness of the dark, it was nothing compared to neon or led lights from the city that would blind everyone, but it was so bright, it was like a star of its own realm, a star you all had built from nothing, a star to defeat the horrors of darkness, a spectacle of the world you used to know. It engulfed everyone's attention, rightfully so, even Kinro and Ginro looked at it in awe as they kept spinning the generator, and for a while everyone was silent, admiring it. Senku looked back at you, a grin of pride in his face, of accomplishment, one you reciprocated back with watery eyes; his eyes then darted to Gen, like telling you to look at him, and you did, the mentalist in complete shock, or fascination, or both. 

Everyone diverted to their own minds after that. Chrome entered the hut, Kinro and Ginro rested, Suika jumped to talk to Kohaku about it, Gen sat by a tree. Senku stayed on top of the hut, and you sat by his side. 

"That was dazzling." 

"I thought of the Leonids thunderstorm earlier." Senku said it straightforwardly. 

"Well, a rather interesting coincidence, me too. Nice memory, right?" You smiled at each other, and the silence sat with you for a while. "The light."

"What about it?"

"It's like a visage of time. Sometimes I feel like it is impossible to truly bring back civilization... not saying at all that I doubt you, but it seems so complicated in my mind. In the old world, advancements were made from things that already existed, and progress was a gradual process; we are working with nothing... it feels like it is impossible to bring back everything despite the science being there... and of course, it would not be the same, Heraclitus said it."

"The old man did, 'No man steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he is not the same man.' You are right... scientifically speaking at least, the only constant in this universe is change." 

"Well, look at you." You smiled at him. "Quoting an old master." 

"Don't get it twisted." His grin held a softness unusual to it. Your eyes followed his face, dimly with the light of the stars and the bonfire. 

"I'm proud of you." You cheered. "Not for quoting Heraclitus —well maybe a little—, but for everything; we all contributed to this, but without you it would have been a lost cause from the beginning."

"I don't care for gratification."

"Don't get it twisted, I am not thanking you for anything." Your clarification bothered him, you were right after all. "You don't need to act all cool and heartless with me, accept my words or perish, I know you have a heart buried somewhere between those science facts and witty remarks."

"Excuse me?" He asked baffled. "Unlike some others, I prefer to stay smart." 

"I think I am my own way of smart." You shrugged, pushing him sideways with your shoulder. "I am not neglecting my emotions in prowess of being cool."

"Oh you are not? Then what is up with us?"

"Refer to 'in prowess of being cool' now." You giggled. 

"Then in prowess of what?"

"Never imagined you wondered about it." A shrug from you, the night breeze blew on your asymmetrical hair. "I am fine with this. I think I have good levels of self control. I don't need anything."

"Where is your ambition?" Senku shook you, without much force.

"I don't think I have something like what people call a crush, I don't need to go on a date or hold your hand, I simply love you, it's simplistic. Regardless, it is not like you care, so...?"

After making sure to look around a few times and see that everyone was focused on their own matters, Senku nodded, but evil Senku did not stay satisfied so he pressed his hand on top of yours and leaned in close to your face.

"My! What a lovely—" Before Gen could complete his purr of nonsense, you moved away from Senku so harshly that you lost balance and inevitably rolled down from the top of the hut, falling ungraciously to the ground. 

"I'll assume that the person who fell from the slide with about the same height as a kid when we were in pre-k is fine and alive..." Senku mumbled as if his heart was not about to go out of his chest, not only because you fell but because his double-triple checking missed Gen. 

"...Alive." You mumbled too. Suika and Kohaku ran to check on you, Kohaku lifting you from the ground and sitting you up very softly. "I always thought I had dreamt falling from the slide... turns out it was real... it doesn't compare to this unraveling, but it is unassociated with the fall itself."

"Ah! I see, I know why, dear." Gen smiled, a little concerned though. 

"Gen, come here." You signaled and he knelt down, so you whispered something only audible for him to his ear and he stood up and ran to hide behind Chrome. 

"Witness aggression program, I love coercion into silence." Senku praised as he sat by your side, checking you better than his double-triple checking of the area. "Well the fun is over Kingdom, reunion now in the headquarters... Gen stays out like the family dog during a stormy night for being an asshole."

"No fair." Gen pouted.

"Sorry, animal rights have not yet been invented." Senku shrugged and walked to the hut, holding your hand. "It's for stability goddamnit, my patient here is idiotic and fragile." Senku pointed at you. 

"God dam mint." Suika repeated after Senku. 

For maybe 20 minutes, Senku talked about Gen's ambiguous moral standing to Kohaku, Chrome and Suika, while you rested defeated, too done with everything to participate and honestly drifting into sleep. You closed your eyes and heard Chrome trying to convince Gen to join because science was bad, Gen denying, Kohaku intervening, another explanation on morals that Senku butchered and you could have done better... that until Kohaku heard a noise and everyone rushed outside. 

"What happened..." At the edge of the entrance of the hut you asked. 

"Our family dog was mugged and is now dead." Senku summarized. 

"Oh." 

"Never fucking mind he is alive, we don't have to worry about explaining to Suika that not all dogs go to heaven after all." Senku sighed, logically happy that Gen wasn't dead. 

"Oh, good."

Kohaku brought Gen to the hut, and after laying him down, you saw how beaten he was. Senku prepared some herbs and placed them around his wounds and that was about it. Since Gen was too weak to give his testimony, Suika decided to go to the village to investigate, you told her to be careful and so the night ended. 

Kohaku and Chrome stayed over, just to check up on Gen, eventually you fell asleep but you felt Kohaku lying down beside you, so you instinctively hugged her. And as petty as Senku was, he laid down in the other side and pressed his back against yours very firmly just to remind you that he was there and he felt betrayed. 

Suika came back in the morning, and you all stood up at different times as if it had been a slumber party. 

"Magma...!" Suika said fidgety. 

Kohaku explained what had happened at their generational event and how she beat Magma to marry Ruri, and Suika pointed out how Gen had mislead Magma during the magnet's thunderstorm and he probably believed that Gen was the "sorcerer" that had arrived to the village. 

The day was slow, Kohaku trained with Ginro and Kinro, who agreed to join the kingdom, Chrome and Senku discussed who-knows-what and you brushed Suika's hair and talked to her about different things you considered she should know, like a basic lesson on language like the abc and showing her how to write her name. 

At night, everyone went to their huts, you walked Suika and Kohaku to the bridge and said the usual goodnights to them, then walked back to the hut. Senku was preparing some more ointments and Gen whispered something, so he leaned in to listen.

"Pfttt, fujoshis would have eat that up back in my time." You giggled pointing at them. 

"Shut up." Senku was quick to bark, but then signaled you to come closer and whispered to you. "We have a deal, all over cola."

"Ew." 

"I mean, whatever tickles his tickles." Senku shrugged and you laughed at his appropriation of your mannerisms. "Next thing we are making is glass."

"For the bottle, of course!" You said and Senku looked at you with a questioning face. "...And science-y stuff."

"Suika can't see very good, right?" Out of nowhere, Senku asked. You nodded, bothered by the fact that the small problem hindered her self worth so much. "First thing we are making is glasses for her." 

"Senku..." Moved to almost tears you said with tenderness.

"N-No don't even try it!" He said immediately. "It's for efficiency, if we level her up she will do a better job." 

His lame attempt for excuse did not permeate far and you knew the truth, so you thanked him, but at his refusal and denial of caring you launched yourself to hug him, imprisoning in your arms both as a joke and as a genuine act. 

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky, @bookworm-center, @iheartpieck

[mackwin]

willmack tarot reading pt. 2 🔮

same disclaimer as last time: this is all in good fun and is not meant to be taken as absolute truth, keep this in our rpf circle, etc. 💞

how does will feel about mack currently/right now?

king of wands (taking the lead/control in love, energetic, charismatic lover)

queen of wands (cheerfulness, confidence, passion, charisma/sensuality, not caring what others think)

page of wands (adventure, excitement, cheerfulness, lively lover)

ten of pentacles (deep bonds, abundance, relationship milestones, stable future)

the hermit (taking time to be alone)

two of wands (setting goals/plans, envisioning future, making decisions)

if you are giggling and kicking your feet rn, so is will. has he emphasized enough how cheerful and happy and giddy he is??? he is feeling so Uber passionate and confident in his relationship with mack and he does Not gaf how others think of him as he’s shooting hearts through his eyes facetiming mack every five minutes. he finds mack just as charming as mack finds him. 😩

ten of pentacles and two of wands in combination allude to mack & will* making plans for their future, whether that be a trip together, training together, living together, etc. and maybe all of the above! also want to note ten of pentacles is a HEAVILY #establishedrelationship card so. Aha…(starts screaming)

also, will’s dramatic ass feels “trapped” (eight of swords) not being in the same country as mack right now. Please get a grip

how does mack feel about will currently/right now?

strength (courage, confidence, strong, caring relationship)

ace of pentacles (abundance, steady, loving relationship, privileged couple)

king of wands (taking control/lead in love, energetic, charismatic lover)

four of swords (taking time alone, relaxation)

the sun 😭😩😭😭😩 (pure joy, happiness, abundance, radiance)

two of cups (special union, perfect harmony, attraction, close bonds)

Well. how do i even start…just like will, mack is feeling completely confident, joyful and stable in his relationship with will. will makes him so so so incredibly happy. will instills strength and courage in mack, and helps him have confidence in himself.

as you can see from both questions, they mirror each other perfectly when it comes to their feelings. i’m gonna do a cartwheel off the moon

how did will feel about mack’s message in the iihf tiktok?

queen of wands (cheerfulness, confidence, passion, charisma/sensuality, not caring what others think)

three of cups (joy, emotional fulfillment, attraction)

eight of cups (running away) LOL

like always, will is down horrendously…and this tiktok is no different for him. all he felt was love and admiration watching mack flirt then fumble with his fake-nonchalance, thinking it was cute how mack clammed up and was shy at the end lol. (groans)

how did mack feel about will’s message in the iihf tiktok?

page of cups (intuitive, emotionally soft/sensitive person, dreamy attraction & infatuation)

ace of wands (intense attraction, flirting, excitement)

ten of swords (disillusionment and emotional turmoil) LMFAO

if you guessed mack was kicking himself for his short message vs will’s, you can go ahead and pat yourself on the back because you’re absolutely correct. he was watching that tiktok like omfg he looks hot as fuck. damn…damn he’s dreamy. wait why is he so earnest and open… damn it that’s so sexy of him why didn’t i do the same FUCK

additional notes:

*although both had the king of wands in their respective questions, based on the other cards it appears will has more control in the relationship/is taking the lead in setting up whatever future plans they have

we have many reoccurring cards and themes from the last reading! (lots of wands, cups, pentacles AND two of cups, ace of wands & king of wands came back)

as we know good and well, mack is usually the needy and lovesick one. well we need to take a moment and rly clock will on this too bc his ass is so emo he can’t see mack irl rn and he’s slow fond cat blinking at mack for all us his teammates the iihf and sidney crosby to see. GET UPPPPPP

once again we have so many cards here that allude to romance it is honestly the most insane i’ve ever seen for two people. and i’ve been reading tarot for three years 😭

anyway hope you all enjoyed reading this derangement!!! let me know your thoughts or if you have any questions for the deck 💞💜💞

[alexsl-universe]

My masterpiece

Summary: Bucky is gorgeous, even with everything he's been through, he's still the most beautiful person you've ever met, and you think some colors would just make him more handsome, why not do that?

Word Count: 2.748

Bucky x Artist!Reader

Warnings: Trauma mention, slightly mentions of wounds, fluff, love for Bucky (If i miss anything please tell me)

A/N: Hello, this is my first time posting a fic, I was inspired by this post, I haven't written in almost a month, but @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger reblogged it and I felt a spark to write again, so here it is, I hope you like it, also, English is not my first language, so let me know if there are any mistakes, have fun :)

It was a quiet evening, Bucky was in a day off with you, both decided that just chill and rest at home was the best to do, at some point you play with his arm drawing patterns with your finger, and then you got an idea

“Baby, can I draw in your arm?” you say looking to him as he reads some book, he stops and look at you

“Why?” he asks a bit confused

���I’m bored and you have huge arms and so much space to draw on” you say looking at him caressing his arm

“If makes you happy go ahead” he says kissing your forehead and go back at his book

You smile and go grab some of your makeup and sit next to him thinking in which arm you’re going to start with, you look and wander what to do, you decide to start with his left arm, so you start outlining some patterns and coloring with diverse colors, blending them to make it more cute, he takes a moment to look at you and see what you’re doing

“Is this a that new one you bought?” he asks looking at you and moving his arm

“Shh don’t move” you say grabbing his arm and letting it stay still

He do what you say and keep still while you do your art, grabbing some golden eye shadow and highlights making his golden parts get more highlighted, when you finish it's very pretty, but his other arm looks in need of some colors too, so I go to the other side 

"I will draw in this arm too, can you hold the book with the other hand please?"

You say looking at Bucky grabbing his attention again

"Sure doll, have fun" he says and changed the hand he is holding the book

You kiss him and begin to draw various patterns and things, like a small shield of Captain America, a heart with yours and his initials, some flowers, a mini Sam with red wing and a mini Steve looking amused to how big Bucky is, you also draw a small version of you kissing his neck, that tickles him a bit.

"Stay still just a bit more, I'm almost finishing here"

You say doing the line art.

"It tickles doll, but I will try my best"

He says holding a laugh a bit

When you finish his right arm was very colorful, some very pretty arts and funny things you did to him, you smile and lean back in the couch 

"I'm done, what do you think?"

You say looking at Bucky 

He close the book and put it in the arm of the couch and look at his arms, he smiles seeing every pretty you did, he loves every detail in both of his arms

"I love it doll, but I can't see what you draw on my neck, take a picture so I can see it, and also take pics of everything you draw on me, it deserves to be kept as a memory"

He says smiling to you

You smile back and take a first pic of the drawing on his neck, with the perfect angle and him smiling 

"What do you think?" You say showing the picture to him and he laughs a bit 

"Loved, i should tattoo this one, i love it more than the others" he says and kisses you

You make out on the couch for a bit, Bucky got a bit sad that some of the drawings smudged but you assure him that it's okay, you can draw more later.

On another day it’s really hot day and he is wearing shorts, something that grabs your attention to his beautiful legs, your mind go straight back to the day you draw on him and you got more desire to do so again. You two are watching some show on the TV, you do the same and start to draw patterns with your finger on his leg before you ask him.

“Baby, can I draw on you again? Your legs look so good to draw on” you say looking at him and pounding to him

“You want to do it again?” he asks looking at you and you nod to him “Go ahead and have fun baby” he says and grab your face and kiss you

You smile kissing him and went to grab your makeup again but remembered that it smudged, so you go and grab some Crayola markers and sit next to him

"This won't smudge easily, only if you put water on it"

He looks at you and just nod and go back at watching the show, you start drawing some simple things, flowers, dome doodles, and you decide to draw a small version of you laid on his thigh like you were in a big comfort carpet saying "Remember i love you and you're amazing" on as speech bubble, you draw some Steve and Sam laid on the other leg having a "chat"

"It's comfy but i don't want to stay here when he gets naked" Sam said

"I don't want to be in here when they start to make out, that would be too much to handle" Steve said to him

You keep doodling in his leg and when he notice the drawings on his leg he laughs 

"I don't think I want them in there either" he says looking at you smiling 

"We can wash them away later" you say sitting on the floor painting a wakanda cloth pattern he has on his calf

"It's for the best, the only one that can see you naked it's me" he says caressing your face as you look at him

"Or... we can give them quite of a show" you say smirking maliciously, and he does the same and grab your face and start to kiss you

You two make out on the floor of the living room, and later in the bed, and also later in the shower, and only there you realized the drawings aren't coming off, at least not all of them, some parts are and others don't, so when both of you finish bathing you go look if you grab the wrong markers.

"Oh fuck" you say realizing what you did

"What happen doll?" Bucky says getting out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped on his waist

"Hmm, I have bad news" you say a bit shy and he looks confused at you "I maybe have used some permanent markers on you"

"Okay i don't think is a problem, i can wash them away later right?" He says and you press your lips together "I will be able to watch them away right doll?" He ask and bit anxious now

"Yes, but not in one bath, it takes a few baths to wash them away completely" you say to him a bit shy

He looks at you a bit anxious, but starts to laugh 

"I think we will give them more then one show" Bucky says still laughing and you laugh with him

It took almost a week for the drawings to fade away, and it was funny to see Steve and Sam slowly fade away in his leg

One night Bucky arrives tired from a mission, it was a bit complicated one, he takes a bath and laid down in bed tired

"Baby can I give you a massage? I think will help you to relax" you say worried by Bucky tiredness 

"Sure doll, but having you by my side already relaxes me" he says smiling with tired eyes

"Turn on your tummy and let me relax you more" you say kissing him and going grab a lotion to help with the massage.

You get on his back and start to massage his back, feeling him relax more and more, you get him totally relaxed when an idea comes in your head, you have some gouache that you’re sure it goes away quickly, so you finish his massage and go closer to his face to ask

"Can I paint on your back? I promise this time it will go away in the first bath" you say and he open just a little bit his eyes

"Sure doll, have fun" he says to you and close his eyes again, you kiss his cheek and go grab the material you will need

You grab some paint brushes and the paint and stare at his back thinking what to do.

After some time you decide to do the starry night of Van Gogh, but making in a way his arm are part of the painting.

You start the firsts paint strokes with some blue shades, putting some on his metal arm and shoulder, you also decided to make some of the yellow parts with golden paint, to also give more relation with arm, slowly it begin to turn more and more look alike with the reference, you even lost track of the time.

When you finish Bucky is already in a deep sleep, he is in such a peaceful sleep you decide to not wake him up, you take a picture of him sleeping and the art you made on his back, you stand in the bed to capture perfectly all of his beauty and the beauty of the art you did, you’re proud to relax him and happy for making such a masterpiece.

You put away the paint and brushes and go to sleep next to him, he embraces you as always, every night he hugs you until both of you are sleeping, it's like an instinct now, he feels you come close and grab you to his side so both of you sleep in peace.

On the next day Bucky wakes up first, he goes to the bathroom and don't notice the art on his back, only when he goes take a bath some blue and golden colors appears on the floor, he got a bit scared, he still a bit sleepy, he sees if it's the shower but nothing in there, he sees his arm, but none gold had fell, he puts is hand on his back and feel the paint, he got relieved that nothing had happened to him.

He takes a shower and tries to take the paint away from his back, only in the end to realize maybe you haven't took a picture, you love to take pictures of your art, and he knows that, so as he thinks in a way to undo what he did, maybe remake himself maybe? No, it would be easier to go back in time, Steve did so why can't he?

Suddenly you appear in the bathroom, he freezes for a moment, not knowing what to do

"Good morning handsome" you say still sleepy going to the toilet 

"Good morning doll, had a good sleep?" Bucky asks a bit shy and afraid to tell you what he did

"Amazing as always my love" you say to him sitting in the toilet "And you? You got pretty tired yesterday"

"Amazing, the massage you gave me relaxed me so much" he says looking at the shower floor that got tons of gold and blue spots on

"I saw, you slept in such a cute way I didn't want to bother you, but you know your arms still the best place to sleep" you say smiling to him "And you got a chance to look at the painting i did in you?" You ask cleaning yourself, Bucky freezes again, how can he tell you?

"About that..." he says, he don't want to hurt you, but he knows that if he hides will be worse "I take a shower and erase it all, sorry" he says sad 

"Oh no problem I took a picture of it" you say washing your hands and Bucky sights relieved he didn't ruin your artwork, and you look at him confused 

"I thought I had ruined and you didn't took any pictures, I was so afraid of hurting you" he says to you 

"Oh honey, don't be afraid to tell me, I understand it, I won't get sad about it" you said after drying your hands and holding his face "I love you no matter what" you say and kiss him

He kisses you back holding you close to his body, holding you like the most precious thing in the hole world

"I love you too doll" he says while hugging you

When you're trying to get some inspiration you went to look at something on your phone, but nothing is giving you the creativity spark you need, until you see your lock screen.

It's the picture of Bucky with the Van Gogh painting on his back, the golds of the paint and his arm sparkling perfectly, that's it! That is the spark you needed, and you go and plan everything you will need, and name it "Project Masterpiece Kintsugi".

You tell Bucky you plan, how he is perfect to be in the arts, how he is the main spark of inspiration to do this project, he loves and accepts to be part of it.

So the preparation begins, you buy the golden paint, sketches how it will be, how you're going to picture it all, how everyone will be edited and displayed, how each part is crucial and needs to fit perfectly to work.

And after a while everything is ready, many bottles of golden paint had been emptied and some paint brushes got a bit stiff, but your masterpiece is ready, but it isn't just your, is Bucky's and many others masterpieces.

You made various pictures of persons with golden marks on them, representing pieces they lost and were replaced, or that were broken and glued back together, and the main picture is about Bucky.

He is sitting in a stool with a white background behind him, he is being covered by only a silk cloth on his intimate parts, and many golden marks on him, some straight others crooked, some big and small, in many ways, all coming from his arm as a starting point.

It's the poster of the exhibition, with the name of "Masterpiece Kintsugi: perfect as I am", you got this space with the help of a friend who also loved the idea, it has many pictures of different peoples and the ways they're broken or lost something.

A few of your favorites are of a lady who had breast cancer, her wound was covered in golden paint and flowing to her chest and arms. Another is of a person who lost their leg due a traffic accident, the person is using a golden prosthetic leg with some flowing up his leg. Other is about an old lady who had lost her husband and two sons though her life, she was wearing a silk cloth just like Bucky but exposing her belly, you draw a golden spiral in there that went to her chest, neck and face, she is in her 80's, she is one that has so many golden lines, she had seeing many things, and told you many history’s about her life, and you listened and wrote them all, every picture have a small note about theirs losses, and some even has some audio of the person telling their story and how they found happiness after all that, also having a picture of you, actually two.

One was you just alone, some golden coming from your head, some from your heart, some from your arms, you always had trouble finding yourself, and life had not being easy on you, and on yout note says "I was lost, I didn't think I could find happiness, but something changed..." and the next picture is one of you and Bucky holding hands

You're looking at each other and smiling, his golden marks and yours almost connecting, and the note in this one says "I found everything i needed with him, he healed me and I healed him, we found perfection in each other, 愛してるよ Bucky"

At the begging of the exhibition has a description of what Kintsugi means, and now at the end has another explaining it again and what the last words in the previous note says, it means “i love you” and is not commonly used, only spoken between married couples in very serious and sentimental moments, for last has your and every person who participated signature on it too.

I hope you liked it :)

[homestuckreplay]

i bet the SORD….. deals negative damage to enemies

(page 1817-1828)

After a long four days without updates (it’s convention season), Homestuck is BACK and I am so excited to be back. We pick back up with this beautiful panel of Jade’s dreambot surrounded by clouds, stars, lilypads… and frogs. Frogs which have previously been referred to as ‘Cherished Idol[s]’ that ‘play a special role in [John’s] quest’ but are also ‘ILLEGAL CONTRABAND’ (p.1358), and are simultaneously ‘sacred/illicit’ (p.1359). So the fact that they’re just hanging out here on Jade’s very Skaia-influenced island, hours at most before her entry into the Medium, has to be relevant.

Jade has built Dave’s house up to the First Gate here, and we previously saw Dave so the same to Rose’s (p.1689) so everyone is ready to progress in the game except for Jade herself, who’s stuck until John finds that disc. Jade is also directly in the narrative text again, which isn’t even weird because she’s so used to engaging with cosmic forces far beyond her control, I just find it worth noting each time. Finally, Jade has an entourage of Prospit agents watching her build, which is very cute. Maybe this tweet from a day before this page was posted has something to do with it.

Jade then reveals that her ‘neighbor in the other tower is supposed to be waking up soon’ (p.1819) which simply does not feel right. John has such a full schedule – he’s in the veil, he needs to do some ectobiology that he put on the suit for, he needs to talk to carcinoGeneticist again, he needs to go back to LOWAS, find the server disc and get Jade into the Medium, he needs to tell his friends about this Reckoning that’s about to happen, he might still be trying to save his dad, and now he’s also got to take a nap?? Of course he should sleep if he’s tired but his to do list within the story is REALLY piling up while everyone else is just alchemizing and building. We gotta cut back to John soon because I’m worried about him.

Then, Dave wakes up and starts alchemizing, and gets a little weird with it. He has more base materials to work with than Rose as he has all of future Dave’s stuff and I think he’s also less interested in being economical with grist, so here’s what he’s made so far.

iShades (Sunglasses && iPhone) – I think there is no need to give Apple this free publicity but it is cute that the Daves now have matching sunglasses.

Turntop (Timetables && Computer) – oh it has time powers you say?? perhaps the power to send messages through time? That almost doesn’t seem right because I feel like future Dave would have sent messages to his friends in the past if he later developed that power. Still, it’s possible the trolls did get those powers through some smart alchemy combinations. Anyway the two half keyboards feel intrinsically wrong somehow even though I know in my heart that is how typing works.

Red Plush Puppet Tux (Suit || Red Smuppet) – Hey Dave, why exactly do you want to wear a puppet? Why do you wanna be wrapped in the thing that’s tormented you your whole life? Also much like Rose’s velvet/wool dress, this thing will get WAY too hot for adventuring. These kids have never heard of breathable fabrics and Dave is on a lava planet. Dave also speculates about how the original suit was made, ending with ‘That's how you would have made it anyway.’ (p.1823). I don’t think this will get answered but I’d personally like it if Dave was wrong about this, just like he was wrong when he told John Davesprite ‘wouldnt give a shit’ about being told he wasn’t the real Dave (p.1692). Honestly I think that past versions of me would also misunderstand and misinterpret my current self so seeing that played out with Dave, especially when he’s so confident he’s right, is super interesting to me.

Broken Scarlet Ribbitar (Broken Caledscratch && Ruby Frog) – This is the first time we’ve seen the name of Dave’s sword, ‘Caledscratch’. A quick search for ‘caled sword’ pulls up a 2008 Arthurian mythology article saying that Caledfwlch was the early Welsh name for Excalibur, and Caladbolg was a sword belonging to an Irish folk hero, both from the Welsh/Irish word for ‘hard’. So ‘Caledscratch’ = ‘hard scratch’ which, yeah, that’s exactly what a sword does I guess. ‘Scratch’ could also refer to a record scratch, appropriate for the record on its hilt. Sometimes the names of things in this comic annoy me because in all my years of DMing I’ve never come up with anything this good.

Scarlet Ribbitar (Unbroken Caledscratch && Ruby Frog) – This is confirmation on how the sword actually works – Dave ‘dial[s] back CALEDSCRATCH'S little turntable, rewinding the sword to a point in its history before it was broken’ (p.1826). This was sort of implied by seeing it in action during ‘[S] Dave: Accelerate’ (p.1641) but it stated outright here. Anyway, neither this or the broken version get made because they cost millions of a mystery grist, perhaps a frog themed grist given the importance of frogs. Either way, I think combining anything with a frog will be an expensive item. Also I’d love to see what the reverse combination (Caledscratch || Ruby Frog) would look like – a frog with a sword for a tongue that can rewind/fast forward between tadpole and frog??

SORD….. – (Prop Sword && Hella Jeff) – This costs 0 grist and is completely unusable as a weapon. Sburb is like I don’t care just have this and get it away from my fancy technology. The fact that it turns not only the sword but also Dave himself and the panel he’s in to a SBAHJ quality level - and turns the alchemiter display font to Comic Sans - is potentially very disturbing, and could maybe be weaponized (for example, prototyping a sprite with a SORD….. might depower enemies a whole lot). I actually really badly want to make a SORD….. in real life and to cosplay this version of Dave at Comic Con this fall or something even though I super don’t have the time/money. Its design is as compelling as it is ridiculous.

Snoop Dogg Snow Cone Machete (Snoop && Air Conditioner || Caledscratch) – Okay I was confused about the Peanuts characters but having researched this, Snoop Dogg was a big fan of Peanuts and took his name from Snoopy, so it does make sense, even though I think Dave would find Peanuts way too earnest. I guess it makes sense for Dave to make an ice themed weapon given the heat of his planet, but this honestly reminds me of John’s Wrinklefucker (p.1068) – it’s a cool idea and looks useful, but doesn’t perfectly fit the character’s vibe.

To be continued, probably. We haven’t yet seen a panel of Dave surrounded by all his sweet loot so I’m sure he has more up his sleeve.

[mrmeepsmadmind]

Blurr being rude to poor grampy hoist/smokescreen bcs he interrupted his awkward ass attempt at smoothly sauntering over to his beautiful wife, hot shot, and pushing him against the wall to make out and cheer him up

thanks for hitting readmoe. as present, have some hot shots

lowkey.. id be pissed too if hoist interrupted me from having this. blurr kinda valid ..

KIIIYAH 😾‼️‼️ ' 💭 i bet blurr thinks i look so cool right now hehe 😎😼 ihope-... is he looking? please be looking... wait. where even is he right n-' blurr who's right next to the flag: hnggh

[youchangedmedestiel]

You know you have those expressions like beautiful idiot or sexy motherfucker, well Misha is a hot dork (affectionate).

[ahalliance]

ten gives he/him lesbian to me while fourteen gives gnc mlm

[partiallysame]

Being Price’s lil wife

-Task force 141 knew Price was married. Man wore his ring religiously, always putting it back on the second they were in the helicopter/plane/whatever after each mission

-He’d come to work with a lunch packed with a cute lil heart note

-To be honest they all assumed you were the same age as Price (old) He always said he’d been “married for years” (3)

-They never knew your name, Price only ever referred to you as The Missus

-Gaz swore Price had a photo of you in his wallet (he did) but they never knew what you looked like untilllllllll

-You called your husband simply to complain. The AC had gone out and the repair man wouldn't be able to get there for a couple days. No no this simply would not do, his perfect lil lady could not be uncomfortable in her own home he wouldn’t have it but fuck he’s out of the country for a few more days. His team however is not and while stupid, they do know how to do maintenance work (why? Just because.)

-He called his team for a very important mission. Gave them the address, accompanied with “I don’t want to hear a fucking thing about you causing any trouble or being disrespectful to the Missus you hear?” The boys were absolutely giddy to finally see the ever so important Missus.

-The second you opened the door Soap was apologizing for having the wrong house and oh so politely asked if you knew where the Price household was. This had to be the wrong one because there you stood, pretty young thing, big doe eyes. Standing in just a big shirt ending at the very tops of your thighs, lashes batting at the three soldiers standing at your door.

-“You’ve got the right place. John told me you were coming, please come in.” You had to hold in a giggle, watching all of their eyes go wide. Gaz immediately looking at the sky, the floor, anywhere but the wife of his captain that he was just undressing with his eyes.

-When you turned to guide them into the house they all saw PRICE printed on the back of the large tshirt just barely covering your ass (this is your own home pants are never required and its hot as hell without the ac). Now it was Ghost’s turn to look anywhere but at you.

-As they worked you’d bring them water or snacks. They now understood why Price kept you hidden from them. The perfect lil housewife. The woman of all of their dreams already taken.

-When they were finished they went to the kitchen to inform you they were done only to find a full meal set on the table waiting for them but worst of all? There you were reaching up to the top cabinet. On your tippy toes, your shirt (Price’s shirt) riding up enough to expose the bottom of your ass and lacey pink panties. Soap had to bite his knuckle to keep from groaning. Ghost grabbing the tops of his teammates heads, turning them away from the incredible sight in front of them.

-Price was right to keep you hidden from them

-They might just have to sneak in and break something every time Price was out of town if it meant this is what they got to see.

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[coffee-and-geto]

HAVE YOU SEEN MY PANTIES?

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: in a lazy, hot summer afternoon, it’s your boyfriend’s turn to do the laundry. but why doesn’t he respond when you’re asking where’s your panties?

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, gojo is your boyfriend, needy! gojo, cute! gojo, fluff, nipple play, panties sniffling, masturbation (m), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, sex (p in v), also based on a @/yunonoai’s comic!

wc: 2,128

“Babe, can you do the laundry? I have a call.”

“Sure,” Satoru replies, standing up from the couch where he was lazily lying down, chilling out in front of some tiktoks.

He steps towards the bathroom, the laundry hamper waiting for him to be emptied and washed. With a resigning sigh, he looks down at the heap of dirty clothes. One of them overhangs them all: your favorite panties — the one he bought you last month. 

The lace surrounds with finesse the satin fabric of your favorite color.

So how can he not be hard at the only sight that reminds him how long you both haven’t had sex?

Fuck.

His breathing becomes heavier, each inhaling being a trial to not pay attention to the prominent bulge swelling down his gray jogging pants. Of course, the memory of your whimpers will always be like music to his ears, the fwap sounds of his cock buried deep, so deep, inside of your wet pussy, and his balls, so much filled with his cum and tightening when he's about to climax, slapping against your ass at each pound into you.

He is grouching now, at the edge of whining in need of your full attention — but of course, you needed to have a call at this very moment.

His hand twitches to his crotch, palming his already hard erection through the soft fabric of his pants, electricing at quiet moans, Satoru’s beautiful face wincing in pleasure. He swallows thick, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gives in. With messy movements, he lifts up his black shirt to grab the hem at his watering mouth and muffle his cute sounds between his clenched teeth and jaw. The fresh air blow at his hard abs, making him tensing his belly with scorching skin.

His big, calloused hand fiddles with his erection, so ready to free himself from the torturous sensation of your pretty panties, which he holds between his fingers and brings to his nose to inhale your scent, which makes him like a little puppy for you. Satoru utters a desperate whimper and finally buries his hand under his clothes to release his quivering cock.

It’s much bigger than usual, beads of precum glistening on the angry red tip, and veins sinuating the flesh. Of course, it’s perfect. That’s why it will never seem strange to anyone to see him stroke himself. He lazily fucks his tight fist, picturing your sweet pussy as he closes his eyes, beads of sweat leaking from his temples a flush spreads all over his cheeks.

His length girth throbs between his digits, coursing waves of lust through him as Satoru quickens the pace, as the same as his heartbeat. Saliva damps the fabric of his black shirt, and the idea of substituting the hem of his shirt with your panties carries out straight away, increasing his arousal until it’s twitching in a maddened way. With each stroke, the pre spreads along his shaft to allow it to be lubricated, at the point that if you all of a sudden show up in the bathroom, you both can skip the foreplay but damn!

“Toru? Did you see my panties?” Your voice echoes through another room.

But he doesn’t answer anyway.

“Fuck,” he grunts in a quiet whine, “miss you so much, babe.” His balls tighten, following the next moment — and it doesn’t take that much time he expected, because a few seconds after he twists his wrist in an upstroke movement — the exact way you’d do to him — he’s already cumming on the heap of laundry, dirtying them even more they already were, puddles of a viscous liquid, spreading out in droplets as the orgasmic peak subsides.

Panting heavily, he doesn’t hear you burst into the bathroom as you exclaim, “Satoru? You serious? Look at the state of the laundry now!”

With a swift gesture, he removes your panties from his mouth and turns his head suddenly towards you. He’s unable to justify himself and simply watches your disapproving pout ruffle your pretty lips. “Sorry babe, I'll clean it up.” He also notes how your mere presence makes him hard immediately despite having softened a moment earlier with the moment of “relief” he wished to provide for himself.

“Where are my panties?” you ask a second time as you rummage, eyebrows furrowed, through the basket of dirty laundry.

Satoru rubs the back of your neck nervously and hesitates to hide your underwear in his palm. “Uh... here,” he murmurs softly, slightly discomfited as you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“You’re that much needy?”

Satoru looks down, a little boyish pout on his lips that breaks your heart. “Sorry...”

Your frown softens. “Oh, um— No, Toru, please don’t gimme that look,” you whisper, walking over to him, your hands instinctively cupping his cheeks to make him look down at you. “I’m sorry, my love. You need to tell me when you need me, okay?”

Satoru nods slowly, still guiltily pouting. “Can I have you? Please? Just one round, I swear I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs.

His request makes your lips curl up. “My boy does want me? You’re cute, almost begging like this.” You graze a kiss on his cheek. “Get on your knees.”

“Like that?” His knees make contact with the floor, his cock still outside his dangling jogging suit. He so fucking cute, listening to you so obediently.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding pants down your thighs. Your black panties hug the swell of your hips, your intoxicating scent spreading toward Satoru’s nostrils.

He moves towards you using his knees to grip your hips and sniff your scent once more. The action makes you giggle so much that it makes you suck in a breath when he pulls down your underwear to kiss your groin. “Love you,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, please.”

“Satoru, just wait I—” But he cuts you off, darting out his tongue to lick a strip enough to feel your bundle of nerves. A moan escapes your lips, driving your breath as crazy as he’s doing with his skillful mouth.

“You’re dripping,” Satoru comments, kissing your lower lips swiftly before grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, dropping you off the washing machine. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled, all needy and flushed to eat you out.

And how long he hadn’t—

It’s like he’s drunk on you, ignoring your moans and whimpers as he rests his cheeks on your inner thigh to wrap his wrist around your thighs. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your thighs, trapping you firmly. “Keep ‘em spread, baby,” he purrs, lapping your soaked core and sensitive, puffy clit. “It tastes s’good, I’ve missed you.”

His dick twitches and throbs afterward, your sweet sounds re-hardening him and making him more swollen than he was even after the few rubs he did to relieve himself.

“Hmm, ah, Satoru, you—” you trail off, throwing back your head against the wall, your hands grabbing the washing machine’s edge until your knuckles turn white. “I’ll be close, I—” you babble, and the realization of how much not having sex with him for so long is turning you into a virgin-like. And also, the clenching feeling of your pussy, lips parting and closing around nothing hits you so hard.

You need to cum on his cock.

“Satoru, stop,” you gasp, your fingers snaking gently through his white lock and tugging them carefully.

He stops the moment after your whine reaches his ears — a sound ringing like music to his ear. “But… I haven’t made you come yet,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly with his forefinger and middle finger. His cute pout is now begging you to give him grace.

“I want to cum on your dick,” you clarify, leaning in, your lips pressing down a gentle, loving kiss on this beautiful forehead of him.

“You sure? I haven’t stretched you beforehand.” He rises from his former crouching position and holds his sensitive length closer to your core.

“I don’t mind, I just want you right now,” you blow out, kissing his free hand.

Satoru blushes — and oh, how can anyone fall in love with this cute little face you want to madly shower with cuddles and kisses? “Can we put it in while I kiss you?” he requests, bringing his lips closer to yours.

You let out a little laugh, pressing a first kiss on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

But something makes your eyes drop lower, and you feel it. Satoru’s hand holds his shaft enough well to tap the tip and the length below on your core, teasing your squelching cunt.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, I want you n— Ah!” He shuts you down by crashing his lips on yours and sliding himself easily in you, stretching you impossibly wide. “S-Satoru, you’re bigger than usual,” you whimper. 

Your hands grab his broad shoulder, nails sinking in his compressed black shirt, lips moving on their own to taste yourself on his wet lips. His tender tongue asks to enter you, and you allow him, soft strokes on each other’s tongue.

Satoru moans in the melting kiss, waiting for you to adjust, and starts gentle back and forth hips moves, hissing through his teeth by the sweet, delicious tightness of yours. “You feel so good,” he squeals between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gasp, swallowing hard because of the different paces your brain can’t focus on — stolen kisses and perfect pounds into you. It’s so deep, so mastered, that it’s driving you mad and making you see stars.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru wraps his muscled arms around your back and encircles you flush against him, your heartbeat matching with his, and your fingernails slide down his back as you almost lose strength and balance every time his tip brushes against your cervix, etching red scratch marks for sure on his back as soon as he will remove his shirt.

With another buck before pulling out fully, he slides back in and manages to reach your deepest point, making your back arch and cry out. “Satoru, please, I’m so close,” you whine, wincing because of his hips rocking in you faster and harder. 

The washing machine sways to the same rhythm, threatening to give way under your weight. Your heavy, ragged breaths fill the air in a kind of steam room. Blood beats at your ears, your gummy walls clenching around his long, big dick without ceasing and have mercy for you.

But as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru slides your top off with a swift movement of his hand to free one of your breasts and taste the nipple. He sucks hard, tongue pulling and swirling at the nub like no other. The action makes you roll your eyes, the overstimulation engulfing you like a wave would.

He then uses his head to tease your nipple with a gentle tug, his cerulean-blue eyes captivated by your curve. You squeal, your walls swallowing up his thrusts inside you, tightening more and more until he gives in and takes you back into his arms, but this time with a hand under your thigh to lift it up and enable him to reach an even more precise and deep angle, making you scream out his name.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” Satoru warns you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and his jaw tense from clenching. “Please, where—”

“Inside me, Satoru,” you whimper in the hollow of his neck, closing your eyes before the following ride crashes the two of you.

Pussy clenching around his length, you squirt on him with a small cry, and Satoru does likewise, twitching as he grunts and his hips jerk to reach your womb and fill you up with his cum.

Muscles trembling from the aftermath, you pant against him, as weak as after an intense workout. “I’ve missed you so much,” Satoru whispers in your ear, in the same state as you. His large, quaking hands stroke your hair, soothing you.

White strings escape from your full, swollen-lipped pussy, the sound of trickling filling the silence of the room.

“I promise I’ll do the laundry, but please, can we have cuddles?” Satoru demands, blinking down at you with puppy-dog eyes.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and nod, a smile stretching your lips, as you reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Of course, my baby.”

DING DONG.

The ringing of the front door echoes in your ears and a memory pops into your head, slapping you in the face.

“Wasn’t Suguru supposed to come to borrow the washing machine here because his is broken?”

Satoru froze, flickering his eyes. “Huh?”

a/n: feelin to write something cute and smutty haha! i think writing things easy like this is unwinding me.

see how he’s so cute? 🥹 pls God give me one…

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

���ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”

[sincerelyneo]

i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to fuck you | l.mk

“you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of”

📀now playing: i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you by black kids

❯ summary: Asking your best friend to take your virginity because you have a crush on someone else and want experience is totally normal, right? Mark doesn’t think so. If he’s taking your virginity, it’s not for practice—it’s for him. He’s nobody’s wingman—especially not when it comes to you.

❯ pairings: mark x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends to lovers

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, corruption kink, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, hand jobs, praising, body worship, protected sex, back scratching, brief possessiveness, pet names, reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, love confessions, just fluffy smut because it’s what i do best lol.

Mark swears he’s a good listener. Considering he’s been friends with Zhong Chenle for years, the world’s most dedicated yapper, he doesn’t really have a choice. He has to be a good listener. But Mark almost does a double take when he hears the words ‘my virginity’ and ‘you’ come out of your mouth.

His best friend. With the biggest, prettiest, most innocent eyes and sweet little mouth that could barely stammer through conversations about flirting—asking him about sex. No. Not just asking. Wanting him.

After nearly choking on his own spit, Mark tries to regain his composure—but fails miserably. Especially when your cheeks flush, and you start chewing on your bottom lip. It’s a crime. No, worse. It’s sin in human form. You’re sin in human form. Looking this cute, blushing like a maniac, like you didn’t just drop that question on him.

“You want me to take your virginity, Y/N?”

You cringe the second he repeats your question back to you. It sounded a lot better in your head—practical, reasonable, totally fine. But now, with his brows furrowed and that ‘are you insane?’ look on his face, you’re starting to think maybe you are insane.

But when you came up with this plan last night, none of that crossed your mind. All you knew was that Mark never says no to you. Ever. Not when you asked him to be your first kiss in middle school. Not when you made him take you to your first frat party. Not even when you guilt-tripped him into helping with your dissertation.

"Look, forget it—" you say, pushing to your feet, desperate to escape your shared living room that suddenly feels way too hot under Mark’s stare. "I totally crossed a line by asking. I’m sure I can find someone on Tinder—"

"No."

You blink. "No?"

Mark wants to curse himself for the hasty reply, but who could blame him? There’s just no way he’s letting you swipe right on some douche bag looking for a quick fuck—some guy who’ll take you to a lousy bar, probably make you pay for your own drinks, and then expect to take your virginity like it’s nothing.

It’s ridiculous. It’s not happening.

Not when you just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

“What I meant to say was,” Mark rubs the back of his neck, “Don’t you want to lose your virginity to someone you trust—someone you love?”

You nod without hesitation. “That’s why I asked you. There’s not a single man I trust more than you. And I love you—platonically, yeah, but it’s still love.”

Platonic. 

If Mark could rip that word out of the dictionary, set it on fire, and launch the ashes into space, he would. Anything to stop you from thinking whatever he feels towards you is platonic. Was it platonic when he kissed you when you were eleven? No. Was it platonic when he drove ten miles just for your favourite snack on your birthday? No. Was it platonic when he worked on your final thesis at the same time as his own? No.

And if he’s going to be the first one to have you, it sure as hell won’t be platonic. That’s for damn sure.

His eyes squeeze shut as he sits forward, clammy hands rubbing up and down his jeans. "Okay, so you want me, your best friend, to take your virginity? Why?"

You chew your lip. This was the part of the scenario that kept you up at night—explaining why. How the hell are you supposed to tell someone you want them to take your virginity just so you can be ready for someone else? There’s no handbook, no online forum, for this kind of thing.

So you settle for:

“It’s stupid. A dumb reason. Don’t even worry about it. Will you do it or not?”

Mark gives you a knowing look, exactly like you knew he would. He’s one of those perspective fuckers, especially when it comes to you. Normally, you love it. Right now, not so much.

“Y/N,” he draws out your name, “What happened to me being one of the most trusted men you know? Tell me.” 

You suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. After all, it’s just Mark. Sweet, kind, nonjudgmental, Mark. 

“I have a crush on my co-worker, Xiaojun,” you blurt out. Mark just blinks, completely still, like he’s trying to process. You, on the other hand, keep rambling. “And there’s rumours that he’s amazing in bed, and he asked me out for drinks this Friday, and I just feel really…unprepared.”

Mark feels his blood pressure spike—because fuck your co-worker, fuck those rumours and fuck that little date your planning to gone on this Friday night. Look, he’s not a prude or anything. Mark knows people fuck on a first date—but not you. At least not you with some asshole making you think you need to be prepared for him.

"If that asshole makes you feel less than just because you're a virgin, Y/N, he’s not worth your time."

You narrow your eyes. "I don’t think your opinion holds any weight here, considering you don’t think any guy is worth my time."

Mark relaxes slightly and smiles at that—because it’s true. No man deserves to talk to you, touch you, kiss you—no one but him.

“Besides,” you perk up again, trying to sound more confident. “This isn’t about what Xiaojun or any other guy thinks. This is about me… being comfortable having sex with someone that isn’t myself.” You chew your lower lip. “I want to be comfortable having sex with other men.”

Mark almost growls, a caveman-like urge pounding in his chest at the thought of you wanting to be comfortable with other men. He’s changed his mind. He’d take the word platonic any day over hearing other men leave your mouth.

“Let me get this straight—you want me to teach you how to fuck, to please other men?”

Your cheeks flush, not just because the idea sounds so ridiculous when he puts it like that, but because it’s the first time you've ever heard him talk like that. Mark is always so careful, so delicate with you, keeping his foul mouth and sex life locked away. But hearing the phrase "how to fuck" leave his mouth in that deep, husky drawl,  sends a pulse right through you, straight to your clit.

You chew your lip again, hesitating. “I don’t know… I just wanna be good... at it… at sex.”

Mark’s head tilts back as he stares at the ceiling, a string of mumbled curses slipping out before his Adam’s apple starts bobbing against his throat. He pauses to think—and so do you. You can’t figure out why he’s interrogating you like this. The proposition is a lot, yes, but if you’d crossed a line and made him uncomfortable, he could’ve just said so, you wouldn’t have taken it personally. There’s no reason for him to poke and prod like this.

Just as you're about to squash this whole thing, Mark speaks again. He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, his brows furrowed like he's still deep in thought, but his eyes, dark and blown wide, pin you in place.

"I'll teach you, Y/N," he says, standing up slowly. "I'll fuck you if that's what you want and if that’s what you're asking me for," he continues, moving closer until he's right in your personal space. "But I won't fuck you just to get you ready for someone else."

"Mark—"

"No, Y/N, I’m talking," he cuts you off, his long, tantalizing finger tracing from your cheek down to your neck before he whispers, "I don’t mind teaching you how to be good at sex with me, angel, but I’m sure as fuck not teaching you how to be good at it for someone else. If I finally get to fuck you, I’m gonna teach you how to be good for me."

Your mouth parts in a soft gasp, just from his words and that innocent touch alone. Mark’s eyes track the movement, and his irises darken with something you can’t quite name—want, lust, need... you don’t know. All you know is that it’s fucking hot, and it almost makes you miss what he just said.

"Finally?" you breathe out.

The corner of Mark's mouth twitches into a smile, and a low, silky laugh slips from him. "Don't pretend like you don't know I want you." His finger slides to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re too fucking smart to be playing dumb with me, Y/N. You know you could have me on my knees if you just asked. I’d do anything if you just asked.”

You always knew you had Mark wrapped around your little finger, but you never realized it was because he wanted you the same way you’ve wanted him. Yes, you’d only asked him to help you with this plan because you know he struggles to say no to you; but a small, twisted part of you wanted Mark to be the one to take your virginity. Because he’s him—hot, lean, experienced, sweet, loyal Mark. Your Mark. 

It’s all too much. His breath is too warm on your skin, his words too heated, his proximity too hot—he’s too hot. You whimper, and you watch as his pupils soften in response.

“Y/N,” he says softly now. “I need you to use your words to tell me what you want. If you don’t want to do this anymore—because, to me, it’s more than just practice—that’s fine. But if we do... this, us, it becomes real.”

Your mind goes fuzzy. Words? He thinks you have words after just confessing that this—that you—are something he wants? Almost like he senses your hesitation, he nuzzles deeper into your neck, his lips feather-light, dusting over your skin in a way that sets your nerves alight. It’s erotic, it’s intimate, it’s so damn sexy. 

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice is soft, breath scorching against your skin, thumb grazing over your collarbone like he’s memorizing you. “I’ve imagined you—craved you—for years. If you want me to take your virginity, I’ll do it. Happily. But I’ll be your first and your last—not Xiaojun.”

The mention of your coworker feels irrelevant now—a distant, meaningless fantasy compared to this. The stupid office daydream you’d clung to seems laughable because the man you thought only saw you as a friend is standing right here, offering himself to you. Completely. Utterly asking to be yours. And who are you to deny him?

“I want this—”

Mark doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t let you finish your sentence—because he’s wasted too much damn time already. Too much time waiting, hoping, aching to hear you want him. Not just need him for something, but actually want him. Crave him. Desire him.

He has to kiss you. Now.

It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Both your mouths take their time exploring one another as his hand tenderly cups your face, holding you to him. But in no time at all, the heat builds, kisses stretching longer, deeper, until it’s not enough for him. Not nearly enough for you. A hum of approval slips from you the moment his tongue grazes yours, and he takes it as permission, sweeping in and taking control.

“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against your lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, Y/N.”

Stop? He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks you want to stop. You shake your head against his lips, legs winding around his, and he takes the hint without hesitation. His hands find your waist, lifting you with ease until you’re resting around his hips. His eyes are fully dark now, black, and locked onto you. They never waver as he carries you both to his bedroom.

Mark lays you down carefully, like you’d break if he was any rougher, but his gaze tells a different story—intense, burning, desperate. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and he just stares, eyes roaming every inch of you like he’s savouring the moment before he ruins you completely. 

You’ve never been this intimate with a man before. Sure, you’re no stranger to your own fingers, to vibrators, and okay—maybe you don’t mind the occasional steamy make out session at a party. But this? In his room, under his stare, is different. You’re not even naked yet, and somehow, you already feel so bare, so exposed. 

“I want to take my time with you, Y/N,” Mark murmurs, as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He gently pushes you back so you’re lying flat, his body hovering over yours. “I want to savour every inch of this pretty little body of yours... and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, nodding at the same time, and Mark smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips.

His hands slide up your legs, gliding over the fabric of your sweatpants, until they reach the hem. His eyes search yours, silently asking for confirmation, and you nod, breath catching in your throat. He tugs at your pants, so slow, so deliberate, and when they finally slip off, he lets out a low, groggy "fuck" at the sight of the pink lacy panties you’d chosen for this—for him.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, heat creeping up your chest.

"Knew I'd say yes, huh?" Mark coos, his hand tracing the band of your panties as he looks over your body, studying it because it's the first time he’s seeing you like this. Displayed for him.

You blush, squirming beneath him, overwhelmed by how new, how unfamiliar this all feels. Mark senses your discomfort and smiles softly.

"Don’t go shy on me now, pretty girl," he murmurs, "I’m losing my shit knowing you wore this with me."

His hands graze over your hip bone, fingers brushing gently, soothing as they explore the small hint of flesh you're revealing to him. The softness of his touch, of him, makes you ease up just a little.

“I wore the matching bra too,” you say on an exhaled breath.

Mark groans, his eyes closing as he takes in a slow, intentional breath of his own, nostrils flaring slightly. “Did you? Can I see, baby? Please?”

You nod, and those exploring hands of his glide up your stomach, fingers brush over your skin as he tugs the tight fabric of your tank top over your head. When it falls away, you're left in nothing but the matching set. The pink bralette, almost see-through, giving him a clear, vivid view of your pebbled nipples.

"So fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice strained, almost painfully. "Can you take it off for me?"

You smile, teasing, as your hands find the clasp at the back. "After I went through all this effort to put it on for you?"

He shakes his head with a small scoff of laughter, the sound easing your nerves a bit. That familiar banter, the playful back-and-forth, reminds you why you asked him—why you wanted him to do this in the first place. You trust him. 

“Is this the part where I learn that you’re a fucking brat?” he mutters, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“I can be, if you want me to be.”

Something flashes in his eyes—dark, predatory—and he leans in closer, his tone dropping an octave. “Take the bra off. Now, Y/N.”

And you do, the flimsy fabric slipping from your breasts and meeting the same fate as your sweats and tank. You feel so exposed, which is ridiculous considering how little modesty the bralette was offering in the first place. Still, your hands instinctively cross over your chest. 

"Hey, don’t," Mark murmurs, his hand gently reaching up to move yours, his thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles around your wrist to reassure you. "You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. If you want to stop—”

"No," you interrupt. "I mean, please... I want this... I want you, Mark. I’m just nervous."

His eyes soften at your words, and he licks his lips. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, and his hands steadily, gently travel up and down your stomach, hovering around your sternum before they rest beneath your breasts. You suck in a breath as his touch lingers. "Can I touch you here?" he asks, and again, you nod. 

Mark’s hands gently cup your chest, the softness and weight of your tits filling his palms. The pad of his thumb teases over one of your nipples (pretty peaked nipples that are practically begging for his mouth) in a steady rhythm that has you arching into him. He continues, flicking over the sensitive bud until he elicits the reaction he wants: quiet, breathless whimpers and tiny darling moans from your mouth.

“You’re so damn perfect, Y/N,” he mutters, his eyes glued to your body as he tests his touches, watching in awe as your eyes flutter, roll, or widen. “So damn perfect for me.”

You moan, and his head dips to the valley between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to trail a slow, heated path up your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, captures your pebbled nipple, sucking and licking with a hunger that makes your body shiver. It’s then that you remember why Mark is perfect for this—he’s experienced. 

“Pretty fucking tits,” he groans, “I’ll fuck these one day. Promise.”

He focuses entirely on your nipples, squeezing your breasts, and you swear you're already on the verge of coming undone for him, writhing beneath him. Terrified it’ll end too soon, your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him away from your chest to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. 

His chest hovers over you, so close to you, but still hidden beneath layers of fabric. His jeans, too tight, too impeding. You want to feel him—skin to skin. It’s not fair. You’re lying here in nothing but your underwear, exposed and vulnerable, while he’s still fully dressed—his clothes a frustrating barrier that keeps you from feeling him the way you need to. You can’t stand it anymore.

Your fingers dig into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, desperate to rip it off and close the damn distance. "Mark," you breathe. "Take it off. Please."

“You want it off, huh?” He teases. 

You’re beyond patience now, body aching for him. “Yes. I do.”

Mark’s eyes darken at the desperation in your voice. He sits up slightly, pulling away from you just enough to shed his shirt, the fabric tugging over his head and revealing the toned muscles of his chest. You can’t help but watch, your eyes glued to the way his hands move, but he’s taking his damn time. Frustrated, you reach for his belt, but he stops you, his hand brushing yours as he undoes it himself. The sound of it unbuckling makes your breath hitch. 

Finally, his jeans slip down, revealing the taut curve of his thighs before he kicks them aside, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. His bulge is prominent, straining against the tight material, and you swear you can’t take it any longer.

But before you can pounce, before you can touch him and feel him the way you want to, he’s hovering back over you, his body pinning you down, forcing your back flat against the bed.

“So eager, pretty girl,” he muses with a teasing smirk. “But you asked me to teach you, didn’t you? I’m in charge.”

He’s so controlled, so assertive, it sends a flood of need coursing through your body. His hands are back on you, gliding over your now fully exposed body. Well, not entirely exposed—his fingers toy at the edge of your panties, tracing, testing, taunting, as if waiting for your permission. And you’d give him it immediately, only he wants to ride this out, prolong it. 

His fingers move to dip just beneath the fabric, but then he stops.

“I know you said you wanted to be good at this, Y/N,” he hums. “But I want to be good for you. Tell me what you like. Tell me how to touch this pretty pussy.”

Heat floods your cheeks and pools between your legs. From the way Mark smiles, and the fact that he’s cupping you through your underwear, you know he can feel it too.

“I-um—”

“I already told you to stop being shy with me, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t think I overlooked that comment about you getting yourself off. You wanna learn, so do I. Let me be a good boy for you.”

Your eyes lock onto his, and you can see the seriousness. He wants to know what makes you tick, what works for you, what gets you off—wants to be the one to do it. His breath hitches as he studies you, chest contracting with focus. 

“I-I start with my clit,” you instruct, and his fingers follow suit, finally dipping under the fabric he’s been teasing for the last ten minutes right to the spot. You want to feel embarrassed telling him all the dirty ways you play with yourself, but you can’t. He won’t let you feel that way, because, like you said, he’s him—sweet, loyal Mark.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re dripping for me,” he groans, voice thick with need. “Aching for me, aren’t you, baby?” You nod pathetically. “Then tell me, what do you do to your clit? Teach me.”

“I like small circles,” you whisper, your breath shaky.

“Like this?” he asks, his voice low as he carefully follows your instructions. It’s almost too careful. Too slow. You need more—so much more.

“Faster, Mark.”

His fingers speed up, the circles on your clit growing faster, the pressure he applies intensifies with each stroke. You moan, squirming beneath him, your hips shifting in desperate need for more—more of him.

"Can I try a finger, baby?" he asks, and you nod, wanting everything he has to give right now.

Mark shifts his gaze from your face down to where his hands are stuffed inside your panties. He watches as he trails his index finger up and down your slit slowly until it’s circling around your entrance before finally easing it inside. You gasp, feeling the initial stretch, and his eyes lock back onto yours, waiting for the sting to fade and the lust to take its place again. Once it does, he begins to move, his finger sliding in and out, in and out, faster and faster until your breaths come heavier. 

“Mark,” you gasp on a moan, a thrill coursing through you as he picks up the pace. 

Mark adds his thumb back to your clit, the combination of his fingers easing in and out of your drenched pussy and the attention to your sensitive nerves send waves of pleasure crashing over you. Because cumming has never felt like this—so close, so quick, so desperately needed. Mark must sense your closeness too because his lips quirk, devilish and taunting.

“You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, but it’s clearly not a question. The cocky bastard knows you are. “Or should I say finger? Think you could handle two?”

Your mind is incoherent from the pleasure, the foreign stretch of his fingers. Any thoughts you have dissolve into a haze of need, only capable of a frantic nodding at him because you want more, need more, need to cum. He eases in his middle finger, both digits slowing down as you adjust to him. Then, the world around you blurs; all that matters is the rhythm of his fingers and the growing knot forming in your stomach as his pace picks up. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel the waves of your orgasms building, until it finally, deliciously, crashes over you. 

Your vision blurs, and sounds you didn't even know you could make slip from your lips. All you can hear is Mark's incoherent, muffled praise—telling you how pretty, how perfect, how good you are for him.

When you come down from your high, he’s watching you intently, his hand running through your hair as you refocus back on him with hazy eyes. You’ve never experienced an orgasm like that, and as you notice the strained bulge in his pants, a surge of eagerness wells up in you. You want to return the favour, to please him, to learn how to be good the way you asked him to twach you.

You reach for his boxers, fingers trembling as you strip them off, revealing the thick hard length of him. Your breath catches at the sight of his cock, angry and needy and desperate. Mark looks down at you with his own haze-induced eyes. 

“Please, Y/N.”

The heat radiating from him ignites a fire within you. You take a moment to admire the way he looks at you—hungry, eager. With a newfound confidence, you lean closer, your lips brushing against his skin, ready to give him the pleasure he’s so generously given you. You press soft, delicate kisses to his abdomen, watching as his stomach flexes in response.

You know you probably should suck his cock right now; that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Mark’s fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to, not yet, not ever if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “But you can touch it. Touch me, Y/N, please.”

That feels more like your speed, so you wrap a firm hand around his cock, giving it a slow, steady long tug. Mark's head rolls back from where he sits on the bed. Your hands tremble with nerves, this is all so new to you, and you desperately want to please him. But before you can overthink it, Mark’s words soothe your insecurities.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “Just like that... so fucking good, Y/N.”

He's like a fucking mind reader, because that one comment, that small ounce of reassurance, has you stroking him faster. Your hand moves in a messy rhythm, feeling the weight of his cock in your palm. 

As you continue to stroke him, you start to experiment with different techniques, trying out gentler touches and firmer grips. Mark's reactions are your guide, and you watch as his face contorts in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out low groans. He sounds so sexy, you like it, you want more of him like this. 

You feel a sense of power, knowing that you're the one bringing him to the edge. Your strokes become more insistent, your hand moving faster as Mark's breathing quickens. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the veins standing out as he gets closer.  Mark's body tenses, his muscles straining and that’s when suddenly, his eyes snap open. 

“You gotta stop, Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and husky as he pulls your hands off his length. For a moment, you almost feel scorned, but then he adds, “I want to last until I’m at least inside of you...”

You both laugh, Mark's eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles, and you feel a flutter in your chest. He gently lies you back on his bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it underneath your hips. As he fumbles with his nightstand, he rips open a condom and slides it along his cock. You can't help but watch, mesmerized by the sight. It’s oddly sexy. Your body responds instinctively, your hips arching upwards as if seeking him out. 

As Mark positions himself between your legs, his head dips down to kiss you. It’s sweet, like the first time, and you think you could get used to them—you want to get used to them. The feeling of his lips on yours, on your cheek, the top of your head. 

When your lips finally break apart, he holds eye contact with you, aligning himself with your pussy. He teases you, brushing against your folds, occasionally grazing your clit—his eyes watching your reaction, a smirk on his lips. Sensitive, he notes. And he has to note because there will be a time for more, a time where he’ll make you work for it. But today isn’t that day. Today is about you and him—together.

“Tap my arm if it’s too much. If you want to stop—”

“Mark,” it’s your turn to be stern now. “Please, just fuck me.”

He smirks, liking this side of you—the impatience, the newfound dirty mouth of yours. Something else to note for next time, he thinks.

Rubbing himself up and down your slit for a final time, Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance, hips shifting forward to slowly push into you. His nostrils flare, and his teeth clench because he has to be careful, he has to be in control. He cannot—he will not—hurt you any more than he has to. 

So, slowly. Torturously slowly. Mark eases into you, inch by tantalizing inch, until his tip coaxes past the small ring of resistance. You’re so tight—so impossibly tight—that he almost regrets letting you jerk him off before hand,  because he’s already teetering on the edge of cumming from merely the first few inches. He’s waited far too long for this moment; the last thing he wants is to blow his load before he’s even begun to move.

He shifts his focus from his own pleasure to your face, keenly observing for any signs of discomfort. When he catches the slight scrunch of your nose, he leans down to kiss you, wanting to distract you from the sting of you stretching around his cock for the first time.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. You were made for me.”

He feels your body relax into the mattress at the praise and your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer. It’s a silent invitation, a clear signal that you’re okay with more—that you need more.

His hips finally press flush against yours, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him, all of him. Your fingers dust up and down his spine as you get used to this, how full you feel, how complete. 

“Move, Mark,” you whisper barely above a whisper. “Please.”

And he does. He rolls his hips, pulling out of you completely before sinking back in, slow and sensual. You moan—right into his ear, because he’s buried in your neck—and he nearly loses the last thread of control he’s holding onto. Mark quickens his pace, keeping his body flush against yours—like he needs to be as close as possible. Needs to consume you the same way you’ve consumed him for years.

“Yes, Mark,” you cry, your nails raking down his back, scratching, digging, marking into his skin.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. You have no idea how fucking perfect you are.”

He reaches for your hand, prying it from his back to lace his fingers with yours, pinning them to the mattress. It’s gentle, it’s sweet—it’s so Mark. He fucks you slowly, his hands holding yours as he kisses you. Intimate, tender, and so fucking hot.

You tighten around him, and the squeeze makes something flicker in Mark’s eyes—something determined, something feral.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper between ragged breaths.

“Fuck, yes—please,” he groans. “Cum around my cock, pretty girl. I need it. I want it.”

Hearing him just as desperate, just as needy as you, sends you over the edge. Your lip trembles, your lashes flutter, and then—your second orgasm takes over you, ripping a scream of his name from your throat.

It’s the prettiest thing Mark’s ever seen, ever heard—the best thing he’s ever felt. And he swears this moment will be etched into his memory until the day he dies. He holds you close to his chest as you ride your high, feeling every desperate breath you take, swallowing every moan with wet open mouth kisses. And when he senses you’ve finally come down, he chases his own orgasm—greedy for it, for you.

He becomes ravenous for his own release, his hips pistoning faster, harder, as he drives deeper into you. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his chest contracting as his fingertips anchor your hips in place. With every thrust his cock throbs with an almost unbearable intensity until he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body shuddering with pleasure. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispers your name, over and over again, like a mantra and he spills inside of the condom. 

The room fills with a silence, punctuated only by the sound of your mingled breaths as he comes down. Your hands are still entwined, hearts still racing, and you both can’t do anything but look at each other. Eventually, Mark leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away. He eases out of you, removes the condom, and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

You watch him as he moves, and when he turns back to you—his gaze a mix of awe and satisfaction—you can’t help but smile.

“You know when I said I loved you platonically?” you ask, and his brows knit together. He looks like he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack, so you quickly put him at ease. “I lied. I actually just love you.”

Relief washes over his face before it melts into a smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Good. Because, I love you too. Always have.”

[sluturu]

GAG ON IT .ᐟ — N. KENTO ୨‧₊˚✩

about. the only thing you want more than anything in the world is to get your boyfriend off but… you don't know how. luckily, nanami kento is a great teacher.

pairing. nanami kento x f!reader (non-sorcerer au)

wc. 2.6k

cw. dom!nanami, sub!virgin reader, (messy) oral (m. receiving), humiliation kink (if you squint), reader has a heavy praise kink, f!masturbation, pet names, face f!cking + deepthroating, head-pusher nanamin <3, slight angst (again, if you squint), reader is kinda insecure about lack of experience, lots of praise and validation ♡

kit’s note. hi, i'm (sorta) new here so pls forgive my writing and any mistakes... i haven't written in, like, 84 years and this really wasn’t supposed to be as long as it is. nonetheless, i hope u enjoy my very first jjk fic — kit ୨ৎ

nanami kento was one sexually experienced man. 

you knew this. from the very first glance, it was undeniable. something in the way he carried himself, the gravity of his presence, told you—no, assured you—that he would unravel you, reshape you, and leave his mark in ways you couldn’t yet comprehend.

and, of course, you were correct.

you, however, were his perfect contradiction, a stark contrast that bled into everything you had built together, evident in every moment, every choice, every collision of your worlds.

nanami was your first boyfriend, and while school had offered its version of ‘sex education’ and the internet had no shortage of explicit material, none of it had ever translated into real experience—well, until him.

you’ve been turned on before, no doubt about it. you’ve given yourself a few weak orgasms with an amazon vibrator, sure. but the carnal desire you got when nanami was around was a feeling you’d never experienced before. how could a man be so hot and sweet and turn you on without even trying? he was perfect. beyond perfect. 

and he was respectful. always so respectful. he wanted your first time to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because he knows that’s what everyone deserves– it’s what you, above all, deserve. that’s why he decided to take it slow regardless of his personal desires. 

it started with soft pecks. the teeny tiny ones that had you aching for more. those slowly led to real kisses, his tongue seeking solace in your mouth, roaming and exploring the new territory. then came the make out sessions, him leaving love bites on your neck while you rocked yourself against him subconsciously. which finally verged on him eating you out with his thick, long fingers fucking in and out of your cunt. 

he was amazing– so mind-boggling that you couldn’t make sense of it. while you knew that he knew what he was doing, it had you appalled. he could make you cum one, two, three times in one sitting and you’ve never even heard of anything like this in your friends’ sex lives. 

there was one miniscule problem with nanami, though. when you would ask if he needed help with the big… issue in his pants, he’d brush you off with a “don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” like the gentleman he is.

the more and more he refused your helping hand, the worse you felt. why should you be the only one that gets to feel good? especially when it’s at the hand of someone as compassionate and caring as nanami. 

the insecurities had been festering within you for a while now. all you wanted was for him to feel good. you wanted him to have the same toe-curling experiences that he gives you. you wanted him to cum for you, because of you.

you’d hoped that one day, he might ask you for help to get him off, yet that day never came. 

it’s why you decided to take matters into your own hands, asking him to come over to your apartment and dropping to your knees the second he entered your home. you gave him the biggest doe eyes and pout you could muster. 

he was stunned, mouth ajar and eyes widened. you’re not usually so bold with him, which was fine. admittedly, he always thought your aversion to talking about sexual things was kinda cute. 

still awestruck after a minute, he breathily asks, “sweetheart, wh-what are you…” 

“well, ken, i’ve been thinking about you and me a lot lately and i realized… you’re always so giving… ‘n you’re always taking such good care of me.” you shyly trail off him as your hands itched to touch him… to take his cock into your hands– into your mouth. “i wanna take care of you now, if you’d let me?”

“you don’t have to do that, my love. i do those things because i want to, not because i have to. you should know that.” he says, airly. a voice that you’ve only ever heard a handful of times. one that makes your cunt pulse. 

“i know. i jus’ want you to use my mouth, ken. you’re… you’re always making me feel good,” you beg with your eyes. “wanna make you feel good, too.”

“oh, baby,” he smiles softly at you, hand cupping your cheek while his finger brushes over the pout on your lips. “but you always make me feel good.” 

you slightly open your mouth allowing his thumb to enter. your lips wrap around his finger, eyes fluttering close and a broken, needy moan sounding in your throat. you suck the way you’d actually suck him off, hand coming to wrap around his wrist while your tongue swirls around him.

nanami holds back his moan at the sight of you crazed and depraved. he’s seen you needy before but never to this degree. never so eager to please.

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your saliva over your lips. he pulls your bottom lip down, “you want it that bad, princess?”

 you nodded, “please— so bad, kento.” 

and he could never say no to you. especially not when you’re giving him teary eyes and that voice. 

so he nods, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. the sound alone excites you, yet you can’t help but feel the apprehension of being face to face with his cock. 

nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you. while you’d felt him through his pants during your messy makeout sessions, his intimidating size exceeded your expectations by a mile. you accepted the challenge, nonetheless. 

and now, here you were struggling to take his cock down your throat. and while he’d been praising you like crazy, you knew good and well he wasn’t getting off anytime soon. it’s when he suggested eating you out instead, you knew that your attempts were futile.

“you wanna try again, baby?” nanami coos softly as he strokes the top of your head. “we can stop if you wanna… i can eat that pretty pussy instead, i don’t mind at all.” the suggestion makes your heat throb but you shake your head incessantly. you can do this.

you look up at him through your wet lashes and he twitches in your dainty hand. “i wanna make you cum for once.” the words tumble out of your swollen lips in a mutter. 

he frowns, hands coming back to your cheeks, only this time, the pads of his thumbs meet the wet, heated skin, brushing away the remainder of your tears.

you might be too good for him. you don’t even know how many times the thought of you alone has gotten nanami off. you don’t know how many cold showers he’s had to take, how much self-control it takes to be around you.

he sighs, squishing your face and forces you to look up at him. “alright, sweetheart, open wide for me, yeah? i’ll guide you.” his hands force you to nod. your heart skips a beat and the kaleidoscope of butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. 

you oblige almost immediately, parting your lips, ready to (try and) take him again. 

“‘kay, we’re gonna go slow. remember to breathe through your nose– and no teeth.” he instructs and you’re nodding, wrapping your pretty lips around his gorgeous length. “i’ll let you lead, you can move your head down a little more when you’re ready, yeah?”

nanami sharply exhales when he feels the warmth of your mouth. heat spreads through his toned body like a wildfire– you drive him crazy. 

even more crazy when you suddenly remember what you’ve seen in the pornos your friends forced you to watch. you look up at him through your lashes, letting your tongue swipe against the slit of his cock. “fuck, that’s it, sweet girl. use that tongue.”

you don’t know why, but the whispered curse that slips from his plump lips– lips that are raw from the way he can’t stop gnawing at them– has you arching into him. your cunt is begging for friction, so much so that it has you weeping. your eyes and your pussy. 

his praise spurs you on and you push your head down some more. it makes you gag, yes, but you remember what he said, breathing heavily through your nose. you’re already crying and looking back up to see his face contorted in pleasure has you taking him deeper and deeper. you need more of these reactions– you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more, but that could be the need to please clouding your judgment. 

nanami can’t resist the urge to fuck your cute little face when you look at him like that. the tears… the big, wide eyes trying to keep contact with his eyes… the way you look like a complete, utter mess all for him. 

he moves his hands to dig into your hair before pushing you some more. the tip of his cock gets lodged in your tight throat and he loses it when he feels you attempting to swallow around him.

he throws his head back and lets out an echoing moan. “you’re suuuch a good girl. take my cock so well, pretty. ‘m so p-proud of you.” he praises. “so good f’me, aren’t you?” 

you choke, letting the tears fall without an ounce of shame, but you nod with your mouth full of cock. you could care less about the way he’s actively bruising your throat, you’re making him feel good… and that makes you feel good. so good that you’re subtly fucking the air in hopes your boyfriend doesn’t notice.

“yeaaah, you are…” he hums, looking back down at you, taking him like the good girl you are. of course he notices you, he has a keen eye for these things. “aw, look at you. so needy… ‘s sucking me off getting you hot ‘n bothered?”

you whine in agreement, vibrating him to his core. you choke at the words, spluttering all over his cock creating bubbles of saliva at the base. his hands tug on your hair, pulling you off and it leaves you heaving, soft sobs ripping from your throat. 

“tell me, sweetheart. i wanna make sure my girl is always satisfied.” he demands in a somewhat authoritative tone.

“k-ken, don’t care ‘bout that– i-i wan’ you to cum,” you practically beg to have him back in your mouth, but his hands in your hair hold you still. 

he shakes his head, “uh-uh, none of that. go ahead and play with yourself for me, just like i taught you. you remember that, don’t you, my love?” 

he makes your head nod again, his cock throbbing at the sight of your drool covering the entirety of your chin. 

you let out a shaky breath as your hand moves from his muscular thigh to the waistband of your shorts. as you slip inside, your fingers find your desperate clit, rubbing it in circles the way he taught you. “k-ken, pl-please,” you moan.

he shudders, stomach flipping and cock twitching eagerly like he’s some teenager who’s never been touched. “please what, pretty girl?” he asks, his attempts to mask his neediness were vain and it was starting to show. 

“please, fuck my face, kento. ple–” your words are muffled by nanami shoving his cock back into your mouth. 

he lets his composure fly out the window, the guttural groan he’s been keeping down comes out loud– loud enough to make your eyes widen. “g-god, sweetheart– you’re… you’re gonna drive me–” he pushes your head down, squeezing his eyes shut as you swallow around him again. “insane. fuck, you’re so good, so good for me– fuck, baby, you’re making me feel so good.” 

nanami knows he’ll probably regret rambling like this later, but, unbeknownst to him, it has you rubbing your clit like your life depends on it. messy circles over the unduly sensitive bud while he thrusts into your mouth with just as much vigor. 

you gag and gag and the only thing it does is make nanami whine. he will definitely hate himself later for losing his self control, but right now? he’s madly in love with you and he’s showing it by giving you exactly what you want. pounding his cock into your mouth, using your face just like you asked. 

your eyes roll and brows furrow in ecstasy, the now-familiar knot in your tummy forms with zeal. 

“sweetheart– ugh, forgive me.” he moans, voice cracking handsomely. “fuck, baby. ‘m gonna cum– y-you’re making it so hard to hold back.” 

why would you want him to? that’s the exact opposite of what you want. you try to relay that by snaking your free hand to the back of his thigh and pulling him towards you. 

he hears your actions loud and clear and, before you know it, you feel the ribbons of seed painting your throat as his cock twitches uncontrollably. 

the groans that leave his mouth are sinful. you’ve never heard him sound like this in the entirety of your time together— so unhinged and feral. you find that what’s coming out of his mouth might be your favorite sound ever and it’s definitely become your favorite side of him. the side of nanami where he’s the complete opposite of his otherworldly, chivalrous self. the gentleman you’ve grown to know and love is a hungry, filthy, masked freak and you fear that you’ve just released a beast upon you. not that you mind in the slightest. the thought only excites you further.

“god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth. “so pretty and perfect, all for me. my good girl.” 

your fingers work faster at the praise and your muffled whimpers grow louder. all the while, your mouth overflows with his heavy load and you feel it beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. 

once nanami notices, he pulls himself out of your mouth and you cough, choking over the exorbitant amounts of cum in attempts to swallow all of it. 

“k-ken,” you heave, your voice hoarse. your fingers are still rubbing at your clit, uncoordinated, yet it’s getting the job done. “did i do okay?” 

nanami’s still coming down from his mind blowing orgasm, chest huffing and puffing, but when he hears you seeking validation, he’s on his knees before you in an instant. 

his hand slips in your panties and finds yours, your nimble fingers toying with your bud. 

“so well. now c’mere,” he mutters. his fingers guide yours— he’s simply moving yours for you— and his other hand comes to cup your cheek. hungry for a taste, he slams his lips against yours, tongue invading your mouth despite the fact that he just came in it. 

his fingers move yours faster and faster and you don’t even realize he’s pushing yours aside to take over. 

you’re so weak when it comes to him. with him tonguing your mouth and his fingers working you, it’s no wonder you're coming undone in less than a minute.

you moan a mantra of his name into his, your body going taut as the knot in your tummy unravels. 

he lets you ride it out, playing with your cunt till your shaky hands wrap around his wrist and you pull his hand away. 

he moves his lips to your cheek, trailing wet pecks all the way to your ear. he whispers in your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

“i might be addicted to your pretty little mouth, sweetheart.”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[rafesangelita]

thinking about dealer! rafe and baker! reader where reader uses his scale to measure the ingredients for cookies

warnings: little bit of fluff, mentions of drugs

rafe could smell the sweet scent of vanilla wafting through the air before he could even open the flimsy door to your camper, the gentle sound of music playing in his ears once he spotted you in the kitchen area. there you were, your hair and your makeup done up all cute with your pink apron accentuating the curves of your hips. “hi, gorgeous.” your cheeks heated despite having been called ‘gorgeous’ by rafe going on a million times now.

he slipped in behind you, wrapping his large arms around your waist before resting his chin in the curve of your neck. “what are you making this time around?” he sighed blissfully through his nose as you reached down for a cookie and handed it to him. “well, it’s really hot out now, so i figured i’d make sugar cookies instead of chocolate chip since they’ll melt and all..” rafe broke the little treat in half, popping one piece in his mouth and feeding you the other.

he groaned, the damned thing basically melting on his tongue. it was warm, not too sweet, and the softness was just how he liked it. “jesus, babe, those are going to sell out for sure. did you do anything different?” you smiled upon hearing his approval, a small hum sounding from your lips as you pointed down to the black scale on the table. “yes, actually, instead of just eyeing how much sugar i put in, i measured it this time.”

it took rafe a second to register that he was staring at his own scale, and not just any scale, but the same scale he used to weigh out grams of both weed and blow. you were peering up at him innocently as he studied you for a moment. “where did you find that scale?” you faltered when rafe blinked away, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. taking off his backpack, rafe checked the contents of it just to make sure he didn’t have it.

“the top shelf..” you trailed off, your eyes widening as rafe rummaged through his bag. “the top shelf?” he repeated, “how did you even reach up there—” rafe looked past your feet and answered his own question when he saw your pink foot stool on the floor. “why?!” you slightly panicked, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong. “nothing, it’s just— me and barry use that to weigh our stuff—” you gasped, quickly getting it off the table before rafe could finish his sentence.

rafe watched as you frantically looked over all the cookies you already made, your worst fear coming true when you thought about having to throw everything away. “it’s fine!” rafe reassured you, “did you clean it off before using it?” you nodded, looking up at him unsure. “nothing actually touched the scale, right? you measured everything in a cup or something?” you nodded again, your shoulders falling in relief when rafe waved you off.

“don’t even worry about it, then.” rafe pulled you on top of his lap, wiping off the small bit of flour that got on your nose. “you just gave me an idea though..” he whispered, stroking the soft flesh of your thigh. “and what’s that?” you rested your head on his chest. “how would you like to expand your business and make something for a different kind of clientele?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his words. “what do you mean?” rafe motioned towards his backpack and the scale.

“edibles. i supply, and you bake.”

[cameronsbabydoll]

ex!husband!rafe when he finds out you had another guy over while your son was there

divider is from @princessbrunette

wc: 947 — a/n: sorta a new layout

you hear the knock at your door late at night, sharp and deliberate. you already know who it is before you open it.

rafe stands in the doorway, jaw clenched, eyes dark with something between anger and possession. he’s still dressed from work—white button-down undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, rolex catching in the dim porch light. he looks every bit the man you once loved, the man you once shared a life with. the man you thought you had finally left behind.

but you didn’t. not really.

“you wanna tell me why my son is talking about some man in my house?” his voice is low, biting, laced with an authority he has no right to wield over you anymore.

your stomach knots. “rafe—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off, stepping inside, closing the door behind him like he still owns the place. like he still owns you. “who the fuck was he?”

you exhale sharply. “it’s none of your business.”

“the fuck it isn’t,” rafe scoffs. “some guy plays house around my kid, and i’m just supposed to sit back and take it?” he steps closer, eyes locking onto yours. “you still belong to me.”

you shake your head, voice firm. “no, rafe. that’s not how this works anymore.”

his hand grips your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, forcing you to hold his gaze. his touch isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. “does he take care of you? huh? what does he make? forty, fifty grand a year?” he laughs, shaking his head. “you slumming it now? is that what you want our son to see?”

your jaw tightens. “i don’t want our son to be like you.”

that makes him pause. his grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your breath hitch.

“like me?” he murmurs, tilting his head. “entitled? condescending?” his lips curl into something dark, something cruel. “or just a man who gets what he wants?”

you glare at him, trying to pull back, but he doesn’t let you.

“you forget your place,” rafe murmurs, voice like a promise. he leans in, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re mine, baby. always have been. always will be.”

your body betrays you, shivering at the claim, at the truth laced within it.

his lips brush against your cheek as he whispers, “you can let him pretend all you want. but we both know—no one else will ever be me.”

you press your hands against his chest, pushing him back with more force this time. “stop, rafe.” your voice wavers, not as firm as you want it to be.

he lets you push him—barely—but he doesn’t step back. he lingers, watching you with something knowing in his eyes, something that says he sees right through you.

“you don’t get to do this,” you say, voice quieter now. “we’re done.”

he hums, like he’s considering your words. then he smirks, that same infuriating, arrogant smirk that used to drive you crazy. “and yet… i’m still here. in your house. late at night.” his voice dips, low and dangerous. “like always.”

you swallow hard, refusing to let him pull you back in. “because you forced your way in.”

his fingers trail up your arm, slow and deliberate. “and you haven’t made me leave.”

you jerk away from his touch, breath unsteady. “i don’t want you here, rafe.”

he lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “that’s cute, baby. real fucking cute.” his expression darkens. “you think i’m gonna just sit back while you play house with some nobody? while my son—my fucking son—is around some piece of shit you brought home?”

your jaw tightens. “he’s a good man.”

rafe’s hand snaps out, gripping your chin again, firmer this time. “he’s not me.”

you glare at him, but the intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist.

his thumb drags across your lower lip, slow and possessive. “tell me something, sweetheart.” he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “does he even know what to do with you?”

your breath catches. “rafe—”

his lips brush against your ear. “does he know how to handle you? how to make you beg?”

you push against his chest again, but this time he doesn’t move.

he chuckles, dark and satisfied. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”

your hands tremble as you shove harder. “i don’t want this! i don’t want you!”

he catches your wrist, holding it against his chest. “liar.”

you shake your head, tears burning your eyes. “you don’t own me.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head like you’re saying something ridiculous. then his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up until you have no choice but to look at him.

“you really think you can change what you are?” his voice is softer now, but no less dangerous. “what we are?”

your breath is shallow, and your pulse is erratic.

his thumb strokes your cheek, almost gentle. “you’re mine. you always will be. no one else will ever touch you the way i do.”

you hate the way your body reacts to him. hate the way his words sink into your skin like they belong there.

he watches you, eyes flickering with something dark and triumphant. “so go ahead, baby. let him pretend he has a chance.” his lips hover over yours, teasing. “we both know where you’ll end up.”

your voice is barely a whisper. “rafe…”

he smiles, pressing one last lingering kiss to your jaw before finally—finally—pulling away.

“for now,” he murmurs. then he turns, walking to the door like he owns the place.

like he still owns you.

and maybe, just maybe… he does.

[quarterlifekitty]

weaknesses: your cooking

König was on watch with you late one night, and you insisted upon filling the air with a bit of conversation– said you needed it to stay awake. You end up asking him lots of questions that night, including all of his favorite foods and drinks. He has trouble answering, he’s never had to come up with this much information about himself, but you don’t mind.

“Do you have a favorite dessert? Mine is lemon meringue pie,” you say with a sweet little smile. It makes him realize how cute you are. That, outside of your uniforms, a cute girl is talking to him. It makes him panic a little, such that he can only bring himself to respond with a quiet me too. 

He had no idea what his favorite dessert was when you asked. He wasn’t even sure he particularly enjoyed desserts at all, honestly. He’s hoping you forget about this embarrassing exchange, really. But you don’t.

You’re stationed in Switzerland when next it comes up. You proudly come back to your accommodations with a little box from a bakery. “I saw this in town today and remembered that you liked meringue too! So I got one, if you wanted to share it with me?”

He just nods. And it’s the best fucking dessert he’s ever had. Which has little to do with how the desert itself tastes. It becomes the first dessert he learns how to make at home, and he makes his best yet when you’re celebrating moving in together. It’s when he’s feeding it to you that he finally comes clean– when you’d asked him his favorite dessert, he’d never even eaten lemon meringue pie before.

Gaz takes incredibly good care of himself. He detests getting sick, maybe more than anything else. It’s just so annoying, and it totally ruins his momentum– throws him off his groove. So he very very rarely gets sick, and is in fact often disgustingly bright, healthy, and energetic. 

Gaz also comes from a home that had amazing food. His standards are, understandably, quite high. A piece of his soul leaves with every MRE he consumes. Which is why his favorite food from you is such a surprise.

It’s during the infancy of your relationship. You’ve been on a few dates. Exploratory, probing, trying to deduce if this is love or just the symptoms of it. He’s on the fence about telling you he’s fallen ill– it’s a little awkward, isn’t it? Partners are supposed to take care of each other in times like that, but he’s not sure you’re ready to be called his partner, much less be around him when he’s a germ factory. But he ends up telling you, if only not to look like he’s ignoring you if he slips into another death-nap while you’re texting.

You do end up coming over, despite all his warnings, all of the easy outs he provides you with. Get him a fresh gatorade before busying yourself in his kitchen.

You come back with a steaming mug that he doesn’t recognize. You say you brought it from home– that it’s your special mug you like to use when you feel icky. It’s got wisteria painted on the side with the scientific name in script next to it, and a little silver spoon with a teddy bear on the end is sticking out of it.

He takes the mug gratefully but still a little cautious– he doesn’t really know all that much about your cooking, and he’ll readily admit that his parents ruined the standard.

He looks down in it to see oatmeal. A bit of cinnamon dusted on, a golden swirl of honey going through it. Just a little bit of cardamom. 

He used to hate oatmeal when he was a kid, but he finishes the mug in record time and asks if you’ll make more. It’s just so soft and hot– gentle on his aching stomach and sore throat, the heat and cinnamon spice clearing up his sinuses a little bit. The sweetness is perfect and comforting as it sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Nowadays he keeps up the same wellness regimen, but he does almost look forward to getting sick, because it means you’ll make oatmeal for him.

When sharing a safehouse with Soap, there’s one inevitable constant: the whining. He always finds something to whinge about, just to ease his own boredom. It’s never about the conditions, having to sleep on shitty mattresses on floors, having to trek 10 miles through the dark and fog to even get there– it’s always about something stupid.

Girl who hasn’t texted him back. His deployment making him miss out on a limited edition thing he would’ve wanted to buy. That during his last leave a girl ghosted him after he barked during sex. Come to think of it, it was usually about his girl problems.

But this time, it was that he happened to be deployed on his birthday. Not that he’s sore about spending time with the taskforce, you’re his best mates in the world– but there’s not much celebration to be had out here.

“Could do with a fockin’ cake, ye ken?”

You were taken onto this squad for your adaptability. You’re brilliant when it comes to improvisation. And there’s a couple of shelf stable things left around in the cabinets here, although dubious.

So what are you able to bang together with flour, sugar, and the liquid from a can of chickpeas in some tin cups on top of a butane stove on its last legs?

That’s right. A fockin’ cake. Is it good? God no. The texture is weird as hell and it’s somehow dry on the outside but completely raw in the middle. But Soap smiles the entire time he’s eating it, and god knows he’s finishing the whole damned thing.

He was always of the mind that it’s rude not to finish your wife’s cooking.

It’s Price’s first holiday with you, and his expectations are low. Not as in he doesn’t think you’ll be lovely and amazing, he most certainly does, but his whole squad is coming over and preparing for that is a pretty big undertaking. So if it’s something a little more casual, maybe a bit of potluck, he’ll be perfectly fine with that. His ex used to order catering and tell the guests that she’d cooked it all herself, so anything is a step up from that in his book.

You stun him absolutely stupid when you not only plan a spectacular, full holiday dinner, but you make his boys help out– commanding them in the kitchen the same way he does in the field. Well, maybe a bit less forgiving. You’re less tender-hearted than him when the moistness of the roast in the oven is on the line. Everything is delicious, full of love, and satisfying beyond belief.

But his true fulfillment comes about a year later when his soldiers are awkwardly talking around their plans for the holidays, trying to nudge him into inviting them over again to make dinner with his missus. Muppets, the lot of them.

A lot of Ghost’s concept of vegetables come from army food, school cafeterias, and all-you-can-eat buffets. Typically frozen, only to be thawed and overcooked to an ungodly degree. On the rare occasion he had a half-decent meal with a vegetable side, it was typically covered in butter, cheese, or finely chopped bacon. Sometimes a combination of the three.

You’re a hookup he falls back on a lot when he’s on leave. Keeps him away from his empty apartments and crowded mind. This time, he comes straight to your place when he lands, wanting to lose himself in your cunt more than anything else. And you’re accommodating, you don’t have anything better to do and he doesn’t leave you wanting.

Usually he makes himself scarce pretty quickly, but this time he finds that maybe he was still running on adrenaline when he came in, and now that it’s wearing off with his post-orgasm high, his entire body is killing him. He feels like lead. And he hates that his struggle is plain to see.

“You can just stay, y’know. S’not like I’ll be expecting a wedding ring in the morning or anything. I’m just gonna go make dinner.”

He’s too tired to protest. Falls asleep just about as soon as you’re out of the room, despite very much intending to get the hell up and pass out somewhere that isn’t your apartment. He wakes up to an amazing smell.

Your dinner isn’t complicated. You’d just planned to have dinner by yourself, so it wasn’t fancy or anything. Grilled some salmon, put it over rice with some unagi sauce, steamed some fresh veggies for the side. Simon just barely has the energy to amble over to your kitchen table when it’s clear he won’t be leaving the premises any time soon.

When he’s not eating food that’s mass produced and shitty, he expects to be eating the kind of battered and fried pub faire that sits like a stone and ravages the digestive tract.

This may very well be the first time he’s eaten a meal that was genuinely good that didn’t make him feel at least a little bit disgusting afterwards. And god– it’s like it’s his first time tasting a vegetable for real. Why didn’t anyone tell him they could be this way?

You’re quite frankly shocked when you wake up in the morning and Simon is not only still there– he wants to take you out to breakfast. 

The truth is that he got a pretty remarkably good night’s rest, but in the wee hours while he was waiting for you to wake up? He was planning. The jump from friends with benefits to marriage won’t really be so difficult if he can play his cards right.

[karmicmortal]

content warnings perv!jake, slightly younger reader, perving on your friends sister, noncon body pics, recording, somnophilia, male masturbation, facial cumshots, mentions of noncon touching

don’t like it? don’t read it!

notes this drabble was originally posted to istjisung. i am istjisung. if you see my drabbles posted on any account other than istjisung or karmicmortal, or the ao3 accounts of the same name, that is not me.

jake knew he should feel bad. he knew he should feel bad about creeping on one of his friends’ younger sister, but how could he feel bad when you prance around in nothing but an oversized tee or tiny shorts that leave nothing to the imagination? he should be glad that you feel comfortable enough around him to dress comfortably, but he can’t help but sneak glances when you aren’t looking.

however, instead of glances, it’s pictures.

he has perfected the art of taking sneaky pictures of you. when you’re lounging on the sofa, legs bare and inviting, or when you’re bent over in the garden playing with your family’s pet dog, shorts doing nothing to stop the bottoms of your ass cheeks from hanging out.

at first, he would cough to cover up the sound of the camera shutter, and you would turn around and look at him with wide, innocent eyes, asking if he felt sick. he does feel sick—sick in the head. because eventually, taking pictures of you in broad daylight got tiring. they were all the same; low quality, zoomed in photos, and none had your pretty face or tits in them, both of which jake adored and wished he could see more of.

one day, jake snuck into your bedroom during the night as you slept. truly, he was just going to make sure you were asleep before he jerked off in the bathroom, which was close enough to your room that you’d hear if he failed to stay quiet. upon walking in, though, he couldn’t help himself. you were asleep and had tossed and turned, kicking your duvet off of your body, and your pajamas—which looked more like a piece of lingerie—had bunched up at your waist to give jake a full view of your plump ass covered by your panties, and if he looked close enough, he could see the outline of your pussy lips eating the fabric between your legs.

he felt lucky that you were a deep sleeper, otherwise you would’ve woken up when he pulled his phone from his pants pocket to snap a few pictures. he hesitated for a few moments, but against his better judgement, he walks toward you. from this new angle, standing directly above you, jake can see everything. your naked legs, your cute panties, your tits threatening to spill out of your loose top, and your gorgeous face with your lips fixed in a pout.

it was wrong, dirty and disgusting, but he couldn’t stop himself.

with his phone still in his left hand, he presses the button to record a video. the only light in the room was from the moonlight through your window and the hallway light seeping through the crack in the door. he focuses the camera and gets the best angles, getting close ups of all of the areas he’s been aching to see. you startle him when you shift in your sleep, turning over to face your front towards him. luckily, you remained asleep. the movement had jostled you just enough for your breasts to fully spill out, and jake made sure to get a good view of them in his camera.

he fumbles with his pants, pushing them and his underwear down to his thighs. his cock springs out and he immediately takes it into his hand, pumping it slowly. his thick tip was leaking precum and he had the sudden urge to spread it across your lips—an urge he resisted. he couldn’t risk you waking up to his cockhead being on your mouth, as hot as it would be. but he still jerks himself off, making sure to get the right angle to catch when he spills his cum over your lower face and pillow, leaving you to wonder why they’re so sticky when you wake up in the morning.

and maybe, next time, he can touch you, too, if he was sure you’d stay asleep.