#locations masterlist

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fic Titles Named After Locations Masterlist

after japan (ao3) - graydar

Summary: the aftermath of japhan 2.0

a little bit of california, with a little bit of london sky (ao3) - twelfthnlght

Summary: (alternatively, dan and phil go outside.)

on an impulsive road trip dan plans right before their high school graduation, the truth will out.

@AmazingPhil: Landed in Vegas! (ao3) - snsk

Summary: “It’s his birthday,” Phil said brightly, pressing his knuckles to Dan’s cheek, and the man smiled again. “He’s twenty-five!”

An Island in the Mediterranean - secretlywritingstories

Summary: A holiday just for them and their friends. A little break filled with calmness by the seaside. Five precious moments shared on Instagram. September 2017

berlin (ao3) - waveydnp and dizzy

Summary: dan and phil meet at a hostel in berlin.

Between Home and Tokyo (ao3) - umbre0n1

Summary: A small snippet of under 704 words of wholesome moments featuring Dan and Phil on an airplane.

Birthdays in Vegas (ao3) - thatsthephan

Summary: In honor of my squishy son’s birthday, I have written a Vegas fic!

Dan and Phil’s Stroll Through Japan (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: When Duncan and Mimei have to cancel on their plans with Dan and Phil for the day, they take it upon themselves to stroll around Japan by themselves.

From all the way across the Atlantic (ao3) - Archive (Curlylinguist)

Summary: Phil’s away on a family holiday in Florida leaving Dan to man the radio show alone (almost).

Glimpses of Portugal (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: Dan and Phil went to Portugal together May 27-June 3, 2010, but very little is known about the trip. This is a random collection of ficlets that take place during that trip, occasionally incorporating some of the few actual tweets and photos from the trip. They aren’t in any particular order, but they all take place during that holiday in Portugal.

how to survive a flight to australia - softiejace

summary:inspired by “will dan and phil survive australia?” in which dan suffers through horror in the form of planes, noise, and other people. but hey, at least he’s in it with phil.

Iowa 80 - realityisnoplacetolive

Summary: In which Phil is stranded in Iowa.

It’s Good To Be In Manchester (ao3) - danrifics

Summary: Dan and Phil are in Manchester visiting their friends Ian and Lauren Ian and Lauren’s daughter draws a cute photo of Phil.

(Based on a Phil insta story, link in notes)

Manchester (ao3) - ahappyphil

Summary: 13 March 2010 @amazingphil- “Looking at apartments in Manchester:]”

Moscow to Berlin (ao3) - outphan

Summary: What happens when they get horny on the plane?

new york, new york - gorgeousdan

Summary: It’s Dan’s eighteenth birthday, and Phil has a special surprise for him.

On the Manchester Eye- twowrongsmakemewrite

Summary: They make a Valentine’s Day video with the intention of trolling the Phan shippers, but Dan realizes he doesn’t want it to be a joke.

Under Vegas Lights (ao3) - LunarLoverrr (orphan_account)

Summary: It’s the last night of their Nevada road trip, and Phil has the perfect date planned for his boyfriend. However, he hopes this date will be a stand out among the rest.

Vegas (ao3) - justhavesex

Summary: When Dan turns 30 and Dan makes a video titled ‘Vegas’, a short home made video with him and Phil at the alter in Vegas. Not when they were younger, but the current them. He wanted to live out everybody’s fantasies about them getting married in Vegas, just a tiny bit.

Vegas Lights - softiejace

Summary:2012 is not going as planned, but phil still takes dan to vegas for his 21st birthday, the city that is said to hold adventure, risk and fortune – and maybe a flimsy hope for conciliation?

[wizardingworldlibrary]

Random Locations In Harry Potter (2) Masterlist

part one

12 Grimmauld Place (ao3) - TemieTem sirius/remus G, 3k

Summary: Ever since he could remember Sirius Orion Black was expected to uphold the traditions of his family, down to never celebrating Halloween. So imagine his surprise when one faithful year, someone knocks on 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time.

A Family Outing (ao3) - orphan_account G, 1k

Summary: It’s the summer before Hermione’s first year at Hogwarts and she’s gone to Diagon Alley with her parents to get her school supplies. There’s so much for her to see, so many things to do, and a whole new world to get used to.

A Moment Alone (ao3) - T3Tohru hermione/harry E, 9k

Summary: Hermione and Harry spend an evening in the library together.

A Narrow Encounter (ao3) - damadape hermione/harry T, 7k

Summary: In the Forest of Dean, Harry stumbles upon the sword of Gryffindor, lying deep at the bottom of the forest pool. Yet as the locket’s chain starts to slowly choke him, whom do those arms that are closing around his chest really belong to?

A Slight Gambit (ao3) - nightfalltwen hermione/draco T, 5k

Summary: Hermione comes to Draco in Azkaban prison in need of his help. Draco has one stipulation. He wants his freedom.

A very Marauder’s Nativity (ao3) - andwatchyoutolerateit sirius/remus, alice/frank G, 3k

Summary: Or, the students who stayed back at Hogwarts for Christmas decide to have their very own nativity play…

Back at the Burrow (ao3) - publishingprince hermione/ginny E, 3k

Summary: Hermione and Ginny find themselves alone in Ginny’s room.

Escaping Malfoy Manor (ao3) - linebos28 draco/harry N/R, 4

Summary: When things go a little differently in Malfoy Manor because Draco sees a way out, and he takes it.

Godric’s Hollow (ao3) - shadowofrazia N/R, 1k

Summary: Harry hates Godric’s Hollow and the memories it brings, but he doesn’t hate his parents, and that’s why he’s here.

Here’s a toast (ao3) - Anonymous Cho/Harry M, 1k

Summary: Harry goes to Hogsmeade. Stuff happens.

Hogsmeade (ao3) - Brief_and_Dreamy scorpius/albus M, 10k

Summary: On the first of every month, Scorpius asks Rose out. It’s been a tradition since their fourth year and Rose always says no. Albus thinks it’s hilarious. When Rose finally says yes in their sixth year, however, it stops being funny.

jump on my train, my little train of thought (ao3) - anonymous hermione/ron G, 3k

Summary: Rose takes her first steps into become a witch, starting with getting on the Hogwarts Express. Her feelings get in the way.

Lavender Scented Bubbles (fanfiction.net) - Beccax95 hermione/draco M, 4k

Summary: Deep in the stacks of the Library, Hermione and Draco explore a fantasy.

Memories on the Platform (fanfiction.net) - Iris Kane scorpius/albus T, 3k

Summary: A cute, fluffy Albus/Scorpius fic of each year on the platform before they start a new year at Hogwarts.

Reparations (ao3) -Lomanaaeren draco/harry T, 16k

Summary: A Harry who works in Gringotts to pay for his break-in. A Draco who works as an Auror and gets no respect from his peers. A mysterious ancient artifact. Flirting. What more do you need to know?

Scenes from the Hufflepuff Common Room (ao3) - Slumber G, 2k

Summary: One day Pomona Sprout put up a bulletin board. Then her students made it their own.

Snapshots from Grimmauld Place (ao3) - DarthKrande T, 8k

Summary: Sirius has been moved under house arrest after Pettigrew’s survival had been discovered. Now he has a dementor to take care of, a journalist to handle, and twelve years to catch up with.

The Chamber of Secrets (ao3) - Anoonie G, 4k

Summary: Someone stole Tom’s diary from Harry, the heir attacked Hermione, and took down none other than Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ron need to adventure into the Chamber of Secrets to save him and stop Tom.

The Common Room (ao3) - Hpfanted hermione/ron M, 49k

Summary: Scenes from the Gryffindor common room spanning from the Lavender fiasco up to post Battle of Hogwarts. Firstly Ron finds Hermione late one night in the common room, she’s in pain and he offers comfort. Chapter’s alternate repeat between Ron, Hermione and other’s POV. Exploring how these two can misunderstand each other but ultimately sort themselves out.

The Forest Adventure (ao3) - AnneAngel G, 4k

Summary: Bilbo Baggins gets lost in the forest, and accidentally ends up in the grounds around Hogwarts. The big question is: How this is possible?

[themculibrary]

Random Locations in MCU Masterlist

5 times happy went to the parker’s apartment (ao3) - impravidus happy/may T, 5k

Summary: and the 1 time they went to his

all the magic is in the gray (ao3) - ashyblondwaves wanda/vision T, 5k

Summary: In the vibrant and idyllic world of Westview, 18 year old witch Wanda Maximoff learns that not all is as perfect as it seems.

a long, long time (ao3) - TheEyeOfRa G, 3k

Summary: Having returned all the other Infinity Stones to their rightful places, Steve Rogers has one stone left: the Soul Stone. On Vormir, he takes this chance to pay his last respects to a fallen comrade, only to reunite with an old enemy…

Challenging the Status Quo (ao3) - Politzania Pairing: Tony/Stephen

Summary: Stephen brings Tony to the Sanctum for the first time.

detonation imminent (ao3) - KairosImprimatur pepper/tony, clint/natasha T, 61k

Summary: Peter and Rocket decide it’s a good idea to snoop around Stark Tower before introducing themselves. Clearly there’s no way this could go awry.

flames in the mountain (ao3) - Kellyscams, madara_nycteris steve/bucky, nakia/t'challa E, 9k

Summary: After retiring from a life with the Avengers, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have been living peacefully in Wakanda. When they’re invited along with the rest of the Wakandan tribes to attend a Jabari feast no one knows what to expect–least of all Bucky. Who has a blushing little crush on the Jabari Chief, M'Baku. This night will certainly be one for the books.

home movies (ao3) - orphan_account wanda/vision G, 3k

Summary: Peter Parker has been filming and editing home movies of the Avengers since he first moved into the tower. This is just a description of one of his home movies, a bit of a sibling relationship with Wanda, and some vague irondad. Also, I threw in some twitter-ing. Gotta love the trash trope.

Individuation (ao3) - cartographies steve/natasha M, 11k

Summary: After, Natasha goes to the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian for the first time.

it’s above my clearance level (ao3) - tsk G, 5k

Summary: In which Peter’s class goes on a field trip to Stark Tower, and no one knows why this kid has such high clearance.

musings of the white wolf (ao3) - SeleneJessabelle12626 peter/shuri, nakia/t'challa G, 65k

Summary: Wakanda was fascinating place for any outsider, but its people were what interested Bucky the most.

A series of semi-interconnected one shots about Bucky’s life in Wakanda.

origin of the debt (fanfiction.net) - Sinkme clint/natasha T, 45k

Summary: How Clint got Natasha to come to SHIELD. Focuses on developing the backstory of their relationship and why Black Widow feels like she owes Hawkeye so much- told from Clint’s perspective. Features Coulson, Fury, and some whump. Rated for language.

safe house (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor clint/steve/tony T, 2k

Summary: The Avengers have to go into hiding after a mission. Clint knows exactly where to take them, but Tony isn’t necessarily happy with his decision, even though he knows Clint is right, and causes a small argument. Luckily, Steve is there to quickly resolve the situation before it gets bad.

scars can come in handy (ao3) - andibeth82 clint/laura T, 8k

Summary: “Coop invited a friend over,” Clint explains as he flops onto the couch. “He didn’t tell me. This kid from camp.”

“Is he okay?” Laura asks in a voice calm and neutral and practiced, every bit as natural at this game when children are present.

“Yeah,” Clint responds. “He seems fine. It’s just…he looks familiar. Like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

[or, Peter comes to the Barton farm.]

the hangman’s hands (ao3) - Mercurie jane/thor, jane/loki M, 160k

Summary: Thor and Loki never make it back to Asgard. Now S.H.I.E.L.D. is stuck with the world’s most hated war criminal on their hands and everyone wants a piece - unless they can find a way to get rid of him for good.

the last soul on vormir (ao3) - DocWordsmith G, 5k

Summary: Vormir: A remote barren planet at the very center of celestial existence within the Universe. And not one other soul to be found. It’s almost enough to make Nebula return to the jet and abandon her foolhardy idea. Almost. A one-shot, in which Nebula travels to Vormir, talks to Red Skull, and is faced with an important decision.

Tony Stark's Lab for Wayward Mechanical Engineering Interns (ao3) - hale_and_hearty mj/peter T, 8k

Summary: Peter and MJ are mechanical engineering interns for Stark Industries, and amidst Peter's increasingly ridiculous attempts to keep his secret identity a secret, their fellow interns decide they should date.

welcome to westview (ao3) - KaleidoscopeEyez loki/sylvie, wanda/vision T, 161k

Summary: When Loki uses a TemPad to transport himself and Sylvie away from the TVA, they end up, not on Lamentis-1, but in Westview, New Jersey, during the events of WandaVision. Now, Loki and Sylvie must pose as a married couple as they navigate the craziness of the Westview Anomaly, all while trying to figure out how to escape.

westview holiday (ao3) - aparticularbandit wanda/agatha T, 3k

Summary: Wanda and Agatha exert a great deal of magic for a Westview celebration, and Wanda has an idea on how to cool down afterwards.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

5SOS Around The World Masterlist

a part of my heart that you’ll never change (ao3) - bellawritess michael/calum, luke/ashton T, 16k

Summary: Then they release an album, and that blows up, and then Calum somehow convinces management that they should go to Brazil for the World Cup, which is weird because Michael is pretty sure they’re scheduled to play the Where We Are Tour for, like, all of the World Cup, except apparently the Switzerland show has been conveniently cancelled (not convenient for the Swiss, though, Michael guesses), and that leaves them with a comfortable three-day window. 

They go to Brazil.

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: “What do you do?”

“Other people’s boyfriends, apparently.”

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn’t sure if he’s hitting his lowest point, but at least he’s hitting something.

Bali (ao3) - Ashstars1998 michael/calum M, 4k

Summary: "Late night dip?" Michael jumped a little from the disruption of the silence.

"Yeah, the sunburn was just killing me and I thought hey? Why not a swim to relieve the pain?" Michael splashed the water around him giving Calum that toothy grin of his.

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui, dans la vie (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke G, 3k

Summary: Michael and Luke just really like to hold hands, okay?

City Lights  (ao3) - onlythevoid michael/luke E, 79k

Summary: Rain in Sydney used to feel warmer to Michael.

Now the water ran cold over his trembling, outstretched fingers, dripping from his nails in broken streams. There was something mesmerizing, Michael thought, about rain; there was something real to it, something so undeniable about it that grounded Michael in his wretched reality. It had sunk its claws deep into his heart tonight, and he didn’t know when it would let go.

–//–

Set in the district of Redfern, in Sydney, Au

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Exploring The World (ao3) - mccraeolson luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: In which 5 Seconds of Summer go to Japan for some tour dates, and Ashton enjoys the travelling just a little too much. Luke mostly just enjoys Ashton.

Fighting The Gravity (ao3) - stelleshine michael/luke E, 2k

Summary: Luke’s sick and miserable in Japan and Michael breaks the rules to snuggle him.

Looks Like He Can Surf (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton E, 174k

Summary: They spend the summer before university in an old beach house. Luke meets the human embodiment of sunshine. Just like the ocean waves, sometimes people are unpredictable.

Lucky Me? (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance calum/ashton E, 3k

Summary: When his mom had told him they were going to Ibiza to celebrate his birthday, Ashton had been more than thrilled but upon arriving there, he found out that a distant cousin of his would be joining them. The worst part of it was that he had to share his room with that cousin he had never met before. That was not the end of his troubles because said cousin was having fun teasing and seducing him, leaving him flustered.

Me and My Heart, We'll make it through (ao3) - flowersforlukey michael/luke N/R, 8k

Summary: “Wait for me,” Luke says, almost a whisper, like he’s hiding a secret only he and best friend know. There’s some kind of nuance when he says this because all of the sudden, his hands around Michael’s neck begin to shake and there are evident tears pooling in his eyes yet he refuses to let them fall.

“I will,” and Luke finally breaks when Michael says this. The crispy Bali wind that continues to blow around them turns cold as Luke pulls his lover into his arms, cheeks drenched in tears and two hearts pounding in their own rhythm. “I promise you.”

They’re on their two-week break in Bali when Luke takes Michael out for a much more different dinner and drives him to the nearby beach. It happens on the night before Luke’s life takes drastic turns and abrupt changes, so Luke says fuck it and thinks that he might as well hold onto the most important person he’s never imagined of losing.

Sending Postcards From A Plane Crash (ao3) - thenewbrokenscene michael/luke M, 19k

Summary: School’s out; time to spend a little leisure time in Calum’s family cabin up north. What’s better than this? Guys being dudes. Fishing and canoeing in that clear fresh lake water. Climbing shit. Drinking a couple of beers and crushing the cans against your skull like a real fuckin’ champ. Your best bro at your side. And in your bed. And the bed is on fire and you’re in hell.

Wembley (ao3) - smol_whale michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: 5sos are playing a show at Wembley and Cal, Ash and Luke bet that Michael is going to hurt himself on stage.

when in rome (ao3) - lifewasradical michael/luke/ashton, michael/luke E, 5k

Summary: “I’ll just be straight up about it,” Michael says, ignoring the groan Luke lets out. “We’re on vacation, and we talked about bringing someone back to the hotel room with us. Luke was interested in it being you.”

“If you wanted,” Luke adds on, finally lifting his head to see the amused interest playing through Ashton’s eyes. “Obviously we know nothing about you, and we probably shouldn’t be propositioning someone at the coffee shop, but…” Luke trails off, unsure where he was going with this.

“A threesome, that’s what you’re asking?” Ashton clarifies, wetting his lips.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

[thecutestgrotto]

Can I request some city themed dividers please? 🩵🌺

Hey anon, I assumed you meant the skylines with all the tall buildings? If not lmk and thanks for the request! 🩵🌸

Cityscapes

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co Locations

Location, location, location. Are you like me and not a native Londoner? Are you also like me wondering how to visualize a place or, perhaps more importantly, how long does it take to get from 221B to the various locations and how much they're spending on tube fare?

Well then look no further! This is my masterpost with links to each location described in detail in each post made on those locations. Each post gives a bit about how far from 221B it's located (depending on travel method), how much it likely cost them to get there, photos of the location, and a bit of the location's history.

Every time we get a new locale I'll add a post and link it here. :) Lmk if I miss any and I'll add them. If you see a location and it has no link then either the link broke or I haven't made the post yet, but logged the location.

Cheers!

The Criterion Bar

221B Baker Street

Brixton

The Volunteer Pub & Restaurant

Regent's Park

Hampstead

Thor Bridge (Upney Ln)

Walthamstow (Morgue)

King George's Hospital

Barking/North Barking

Fortnum & Mason

Paddington Station

Hilton Green/Chatham

Berlin (John's Vacay Spot with The Boys)

Heathrow Airport

Hotel Cosmopolitan

Bailey's Street

Shoreditch

King's Road

Chelsey

44 Cross St., Croydon

Chiswick Flyover

The Fox (the swinger's pub)

Hanwell/Ealing/West London

Islington Tunnel

Eltham

Blackheath Common

"GAIL'S Bakery"

The Strand

'Saxe-Coburg Square'

Pinewood Studios

Embankment

Charing Cross

Opera House (?)

Barking Station

Walthamstow

Waterloo Bridge

Bank of England Museum

Camden Town

Living Room Club Cafe

'Gloria Scott' (Oil Rigs)

Ramack/Kosovo

St Dunstan

Little Venice

Satalfields

Brick Lane

Neal's Yard

South Kensington (Ice Rink)

[yuansie]

↷ ·˚ ༘ 💌 masterlists : ꒱

honkai star rail : archives on the nameless

genshin impact : records of the world of teyvat

tears of themis : the big data lab's archives

love & deepspace : myths of the world

twisted wonderland : tales of twisted wonderland

wuthering waves : the story of rover

final fantasy vii : shinra's reports

dc comics : the bat cave's reports

[randomanimaticse]

Five Nights at Freddy's Masterlists

Fnaf 1 Masterlist

Fnaf 2 Masterlist

Fnaf 3 Masterlist

Fnaf 4 Masterlist

Sister Location Masterlist

Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator Masterlist

Security Breach Masterlist | Ruin Masterlist

[ceilidho]

fig. 1. hand in dog mouth | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

The first time he smells her from inside the woman's locker room, it brings him to a halt. The human voice in his head grows dimmer and dimmer until it ceases to make a sound.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

“Fuckin’ gym isnae giei’ me a free month even though ah have tae drive tae practically the other side o’ the country tae get a decent pump in.”

“Mate, I can’t understand you when you get all worked up,” Gaz sighs on the other end of the phone, probably pinching the bridge of his nose. A lot of their conversations end up that way, one of them quickly losing patience with the other until the call abruptly ends.

Johnny drops his gym bag in the back and slams the car door shut, rounding to the other side to get in on the driver’s side. 

“Ah said, they aren’y refunding me fer the month even though the other location is on the other side o’ town. That’s a half hour back ‘n forth,” he gripes. The call switches to bluetooth a couple seconds after starting the car, Gaz’s exasperated voice coming from the speaker instead of his cell. 

“Don’t you already get a discount?”

“That’s jus’ fer bein’ a vet. This is completely different. It’s gonna be closed fer a month fer renovations. Ah cannae do this fer a whole month.”

“Hey, I know where you live. Aren’t there other gyms around that you could go to instead?”

“Are ye out o’ yer fuckin’ mind, Gaz? Ah’m no’ payin’ ten quid fer a fuckin’ day pass when ah already pay out the nose fer a membership.” 

“No need to get mad at me, mate, I’m just giving you suggestions.” 

“Well, keep them tae yerself if they’re all that bad.”

“Okay, this has been a great chat. I hope you blow a tire on the way there and try calling me for help so I can ignore it.”

The call ends with a loud beep and Johnny barks out a laugh as he reverses out of his spot, looping out of the lot and onto the main road.

He takes the highway because most of the slush and snow has long been cleaned off, though his wipers pump back and forth furiously to keep the snow flurries from sticking to the windshield. That already sets the tone for his evening. He nearly gets in an accident twice on the way there, everyone losing their ability to drive the second the weather is even slightly bad. 

He should just be lucky his gym even has another branch. They could’ve left him high and dry for the month, forced him to go to one the other gyms in his neighborhood that don’t offer the same range of weights and veteran’s discount. 

Worse, he could’ve been left with no choice but to use Gaz’s guest pass to his exorbitantly overpriced luxury gym downtown. Even the thought makes Johnny shudder. It could always be worse.

It’s so much more than just the drive that he hates about the other location. Like the first time he came here months ago when an appointment on the other side of town made him think it would be more convenient to pop in rather than heading back home for his workout, the parking lot is packed when he arrives, and he has to circle the lot twice before a spot frees up. 

The gym is similarly packed when Johnny walks in, and his mood darkens as he scans the weight section for a free bench. None in sight. Just meathead after meathead lining the far wall, huffing and puffing with each rep, dumbbells scattered around. 

Headphones slipped on and music loud enough to make his ears ring, he heads to the treadmills instead. Better to just start his workout like usual and hope for the best. 

The air stinks of sweat and hormones, alpha pheromones wafting through the gym and leaving not a corner untouched. It’s one of the reasons he prefers the location closer to his place—convenience aside, his location is mainly frequented by betas and omegas, the odd alpha not having much of an impact on the overall vibe. 

It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty of alpha friends (Gaz being just one of them), it’s just that sometimes he likes being the biggest, meanest thing in the room. Keeps him in line. Keeps him from being the stupid shit he is ninety-nine percent of the time, as Gaz would say. He likes to be the only one posturing. 

So he doesn’t relish being forced to work out with a million carbon copies of himself. It’s nothing Johnny isn’t used to at least—a decade in the military and a lifetime of contact sport before that had been enough of an education in coexisting with other alphas—but it leaves him on edge, muscles bunching up until his shoulders are nearly up to his ears. 

Running loosens him up. Distracts him from the urge to sink his teeth into something tender and shake until it bleeds. 

A brisk walk to a light jog to a full on sprint. Tongue suctioned to the roof of his mouth, sharpened canines throbbing. The most natural state in the world—legs pumping under him faster and faster, the faint memory of bare feet on a cold forest floor turning over loose soil with every stride. The steady pound of his feet against the ground rumbling through him.

It’s a pale imitation of the real deal, but the taste of salt and rust on the back of his tongue keep him grounded. The beast in his chest rumbles its approval. 

When a bench finally frees up, Johnny has to dash across the gym when he sees another alpha nearby eyeing his spot. He reaches the bench a few seconds before the other man though, slinging his sweat-drenched towel across the seat to claim it as his. The alpha hovers for a tense second, face screwed up in anger and nostrils flared like he might put up a fight for it. 

Do it, Johnny almost growls, teeth itching. Try it and see what happens.

Lucky for both of them that the other alpha knows when to cut his losses. He shoulder checks another alpha as he stomps back to the leg press machine and nearly starts a whole other fight, but that’s none of Johnny’s business. 

He cringes when he finally looks down at the bench only to find someone’s back outlined in sweat. Entitled shitheads at this gym can’t even be bothered to clean up after themselves. 

The noxious miasma of alpha stench would make his eyes water if he weren’t so used to it. Pungent and sharp, like gargling brine. 

A month can’t go by quick enough.

He leaves feeling worse than when he came in. Shoulders tight with tension and irritation crackling through him. Doesn’t even bother throwing a halfhearted see you later to the front desk workers on his way out. The height of rudeness. Not even rude so much as just not him; Johnny likes to talk, he likes to be friendly with the staff. It speaks to the anger riding high in his blood that he can’t even pretend. 

To make it worse, his car is covered in snow when he makes it back, forcing him to spend an extra five minutes cleaning the shit off before he can finally leave. 

It’s untenable. He can mind his ego for a paycheck, but on his own time his patience curls up into a ball in his chest and goes to sleep. It’s not a question of if he’ll lose his temper but when. Inevitable. His pugnacity has always been his downfall; his Achilles’ heel. Always cutting himself down on a sharp tooth.

The rosary beads dangling from the rearview window sway with the car when he takes a tight turn. 

“Ah ken,” Johnny mumbles to himself, silver cross glinting under the stoplight. “Ah can do a month. Ah can keep it together.”

The next couple of times are just as bad. It’s always crowded during his preferred usual time and it always stinks, like the staff know they’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep the place clean so they don’t even try. 

The sorry fuckin’ state of this place, Johnny thinks in revulsion, sneering down at yet another machine damp with sweat from the guy before him. It takes him a minute to wrestle down the impulse to chase after the other alpha and drag him back by his hair before shoving him face down into the puddle of sweat on the seat he left for someone else to clean up. 

Only the threat of being permanently banned keeps his temper in check. That can only last for so long though.

It’s gotten to the point where he seriously considers taking Gaz up on his offer to come with him to the gym downtown. He’s a danger to himself and others here; a walking time bomb rapidly ticking down. Each day, something new tests the limits of his patience, like when he comes in one crowded afternoon only to find all of the lockers taken, the locker room stuffed to the brim with alphas and a few straggler betas. 

He sits in his car with the heat on for an hour until the gym clears out, steaming enough to fog up the windows. Nearly turns right back around when he enters the locker room to find it absolutely demolished—damp towels strewn about, shower water all over the floor, and stinking to high heavens of sweat, body odour, and piss. 

There’s still a dent in one of the lockers from the brief loss of his temper. He doesn’t cop to it, but he makes a point to only use the lockers on the other side of the room from then on.

He’s desperate enough to join Gaz at his fancy downtown gym all of one time, but the facilities there are so serene and sterile that his skin crawls the moment he walks in. Soothing spa music echoes through the three-story gym (no, wellness centre, the staff correct him at the check-in desk, and Gaz has to kick his bad knee to keep Johnny from howling) and verdant green plants grow from pots placed around the facility. 

Like working out in the jungle, he thinks sardonically. 

“How can ye even concentrate here?” he asks, aghast, staring at the group of limber, flexible bodies stretching and straining in a group yoga class behind a nearby glass wall. He licks his lips. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Ah’m no’ gonna get kicked out for breathing too loud, am ah?” 

“If anything, you’re gonna get kicked out for public indecency,” Gaz sneers, looking down pointedly at Johnny’s open hand inching towards his crotch. “Can you chill out, mate?”

“It’s no’ my fault! They’re arching their backs ‘n pushing their tits out. Ah shouldnae have to look at that when ah’m tryin’ tae work out.” 

“Would it kill you to not run your mouth off for five fucking minutes?”

Johnny mimes zipping his lips and then follows Gaz downstairs to the locker room, where the wall-length granite sink and infrared sauna make his eyes nearly bug out of his head. 

To no one’s surprise, he doesn’t go back. Gaz doesn’t ask him again either.

An appointment one day pushes his schedule back a couple hours and he shows up later than usual, his teeth clenched tight the whole drive over because he expects the worst. Double the occupants, double the meatheads. 

But when he pulls into a near empty lot, the knot of tension in his chest loosens. Only a handful of cars, and most of them are parked near the take-out place at the other end of the complex. 

It’s practically a wasteland when Johnny walks in. A few people here and there, but otherwise deserted. Only a single person posted near the free weights. 

Even the locker room is more palatable. Freshly cleaned and stocked with new towels. All of the showers have been scrubbed down and dried, the curtains tucked behind the holdbacks and waiting for someone to use them. It’s like walking into a brand new gym. 

“Yeah, this is kind of the sweet spot,” a staff member tells him when he rocks up to the desk to ask about it. “We get a lot of alphas that come here right after five, so when it empties out around nine, we have the cleaning staff come in to sanitize everything.”

“Well shit,” he laughs, pushing back from the desk and lacing his hands behind his head. “Guess yer gonna see me more often.”

True to his word, he starts showing up later and later, the streetlights plump and gold when he swerves into the parking lot and parks in the middle of two spots purely because he can. There’s a new bounce to his gait, a pep in his step. 

It fucks up Johnny’s schedule for a bit, but it’s well worth getting home well after midnight if it means that he gets the gym to himself. No one to complain when he groans and pants through each rep, sweat dripping from his face and body onto the floor, weights slammed against the mat with a loud thud every time he finishes a set. 

(In truth, he’s no better than the alphas that plague the gym during the evening hours, but he’s long made peace with being a hypocrite.)

For a moment, it seems like life will at least be bearable until the month is over and he can go back to training at his regular gym. All he has to do is wait it out. 

When it first catches his nose, he splinters down the middle.

It happens when Johnny’s on his way out for the night, muscles warm and only slightly sore, the kind of soreness that’ll dissipate by the time he flops into bed. It’s later than usual—closer to one than twelve, and he’ll feel it in the morning when he’s forced to get up at his usual hour—but there’s hardly anyone else in the gym and for that, it’s worth it. 

The strap of his gym bag digs into his shoulder as he tosses a hand up on his way, saying goodbye to the beta manning the front desk on his own. A shame that he’s stuck on his own all night. It would drive Johnny crazy to be stuck at work with no one to talk to—it’s one of the reasons that he followed Gaz into private security when they both got out of the service. 

He turns around, about to step out of the gym, when a peculiar smell tries to sneak past him. A slippery thing, silverfish quick and just as conspicuous. 

He catches it though. Hunting dog with a purebred snout, he sniffs it the second it wafts under his nose and goes ramrod straight, egress forgotten. 

The door to the women's locker room is closed, but he can smell the faint traces of the omega’s scent clinging to it. She must have touched it on her way out. Must have placed her palm against the door and shoved. The alpha beneath his skin that wears his face stills as well, everything vanishing into the singular nature of the scent emanating from the locker room door. 

In twenty-nine years, he’s never felt so—

(unmoored, untethered

sinking into it like a stone, not coming apart but unraveling altogether—)

He breathes in again and it’s fainter now, but he can still smell it. Candy pink frosting, so sweet that his teeth hurt and his dick throbs. Juicy like a ripe peach waiting for his teeth. It wafts from the women’s locker room, so subtle that it’s clear that whoever it belonged to is long gone. He must have just missed her, an hour separating them at most. 

It’s like nothing he’s ever smelt before. No omega in heat has ever made his head spin like this, every inch of him attuned to a single scent. Even slick on his tongue has never made him feel like this, rut thundering through his bones and snapping him into a new shape.

The hunger shifts from his throat to his stomach, settling in deep. And the beast under his skin that wears his face opens its maw, ropey strands of spittle stringing between its teeth. 

“Hey man, you good?” 

Johnny blinks, looking over his shoulder to find the guy at the front desk frowning at him. It snaps him out of whatever spell he’d been under. His alpha recedes beneath his skin again, hungering but quieter. 

“Uh…” he clears his throat, pulling the strap of his bag back up onto his shoulder from where it slipped down. Gives the guy a thumbs up. “Yeah. Sorry—lost my train o’ thought.”

The employee stares at him for a beat before mumbling, “Okay…” under his breath and looking back down at the computer.

Johnny stares at the door for another few seconds before finally leaving.

He sweats all the way home. Worries, wonder, and woes. Blinks and suddenly his exit is next, another car behind him honking when he changes lanes abruptly without signalling. Haud yer wheesht, he thinks and flips the other driver off for good measure. 

At home, he paces the length of his house thinking about that omega’s scent until it’s time for bed. Then he tosses and turns until his sleep grows profound and swallows him whole like Jonah. Into the belly of the beast. Nothing to do but let it spit him back out like a peachstone. 

Then morning comes and his jaw clicks when he yawns and his bad knee hurts. 

But worse than the snow pelting his windshield on the drive to work and worse than the cold stinging his face when he parks and stops for his morning coffee is the memory of that smell. 

It’s not as if he doesn’t have any experience with omegas. Despite growing up under the thumb of four alpha sisters, Johnny’s been popular with omegas his whole life. His history with them is an assortment of sordid trysts and quick flings, good enough to scratch an itch but not enough to make him want to bite and keep. 

Sticky, messy, syrupy ruts spent buried between an omega’s soft thighs, gorging himself on slick and pussy; nudging his cock against pillowy lips and then thrusting down their throat, hand palming the base of their skull to hold them in place. 

It’s always been like that though. One and done; a couple days at most to work through the worst of his rut and then out the door, a messy kiss for the road before whistling his way home. Johnny’s good for that. A romp in the hay, a roll in the sack. Generous with his fingers and mouth and cock. 

He’s never craved an omega like this though, never fevered like he fevers now. Itched like his skin was turned inside out in his sleep.

Waking up in the middle of the night panting, the covers under him drenched with sweat and his knot throbbing in his hand, already swollen and aching. Fisting his cock until he has no choice but to roll over and bury his teeth into his pillow, humping the mattress frantically until he comes, eyes watering with the force of his orgasm. 

No tonic for this ailment. It simmers in his blood, infatuation decocting into full blown obsession.

Brontide as leitmotif and it rumbles in his ears. 

Wandering through the city punch-drunk, always waiting for it to catch his nose somewhere else. In line at a salad bar, always a head taller than everyone else (which he’s still getting used to, which is still a strange new fact of civilian life); at a local venue with Gaz for a concert, scenting the air for any sign of them; seated at the back of the coffee shop across the street from the gym, eyes trained on the door.

Waiting. Always waiting. 

And, hungering like a starved dog. 

Saliva pooling in his mouth when he thinks of what it’ll be like when he finally has them under him, desperate and cloying and wet. 

Other omegas smell sickly to him now, off somehow. A facsimile of what he knows is out there waiting for him. He’s not down for a quick fuck anymore. A hand on his chest and doe eyes blinking up at him makes him shudder now, grimacing down at the omega trying to compete for his attention when out there there’s—

His omega.  

Just for him. Made to take his knot and clench around it and squeal when he pumps them full— 

Hishishishishishis. 

So he shrugs her hand off and sends her on her way. 

Johnny spends weeks trying to line up their schedules—his and that elusive omega’s whose scent still permeates the gym even though he never actually sees them in the flesh—to no avail. Even though he’s there waiting at the gym nearly every day, they must stagger their visits. Worse, they seem to come at irregular hours; some days, Johnny shows up and though he can smell the omega’s scent, it’s flat, stale. Like they’ve been gone for hours, ages. Only the oil from their hands still embedded in the dumbbells on the rack. 

He doesn’t even care if anyone’s watching when he brings one up to his nose and breathes in. 

Then abruptly, the scent disappears, and with it, his soundness of mind.

A week gasping for air, flopping belly up. Breathing in nothing, not even the old, stale scent of his omega because they’re gone suddenly without warning. The first couple of days are manageable only because he doesn’t notice it at first, used to his omega taking a couple days off at a time to rest and recover, but then two days stretch into three. And then into four. 

Johnny’s long thought of himself as wild and self-reliant, not accountable to anyone or anything apart from himself. It takes four days to obliterate that notion. 

On the fourth day, he wakes up and his agony crawls out of his mouth on spindly legs. 

It follows him to work and back, an ache between his shoulder blades and a gnawing, wretched hunger for something he can’t have because it’s beyond his grasp. Smoke now, lost in the ether. He drives across town before and after work, hoping that they’ll suddenly reappear and set his mind at ease, but the gym only smells of alpha funk and his own souring mood. 

Too long without it. He’s nothing but a shell of himself in its absence, without the scent of his omega to calm him down, and it makes Johnny realize that he wasn’t doing well on his own before but just barely surviving. Barely keeping his head above water. 

Ghost hauls him out of a bar by the scruff of his neck on Saturday night when he almost starts a fight, and only sinking his canines into the other alpha’s forearm calms him down. He slumps forward in the bigger man’s hold and whines when Ghost strokes a hand down his back and murmurs something vaguely soothing in his ear, his words muffled by the mask. He even lets Ghost drag him back home and curls up on his couch until a balled sock hits his head and he slinks into Ghost’s bedroom, dragging his feet the whole way.

His longing is excruciating. Pathetic. Like a dog with its own empty bowl in its mouth begging for scraps.  

Gaz still calls every day because they’ve been joined at the hip since they first met almost a decade ago and it’s not long before he picks up on the shaky note in Johnny’s voice, stilted conversations becoming wholly incomprehensible. Even Price calls him towards the end of the week to ask if he’s doing alright. No, sir. Yes, sir. Ah’m fine, sir. 

“Was it Gaz who snitched?” Johnny gripes, cutting a side-eyed glare at the alpha on the bench next to him curling sixty pound weights and groaning like he’s getting sucked off at the same time. Still no sign of his omega. 

“Well, it wasn’t Simon.”

That makes him snort. Last time he tells that traitor a goddamn thing about his life. 

Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. It makes the world seem fetid and bland, and he looks out at it through dull eyes, anger kindling inside. Makes his stomach cramp like there’s nothing in it. It takes the sheen out of an oil spill, leaving only the mess and rot behind. 

And then suddenly it’s back like nothing happened, stopping him in his tracks as he walks into the gym. They must have gone out of town for the week, on vacation or visiting family, something so trivial that he’d laugh if his innards weren’t char and ash. If his alpha weren’t half-feral, blotting out his thoughts for hours at a time, all instinct and anger and teeth taking over until he regains clarity and the sky is dark.

It nearly brings him to his knees when he walks into the gym and the smell of his omega blooms bright and nacreous. The gym staff eye him with growing uncertainty, but he’s hardly the most concerning customer at a big box gym (last week someone locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls with a knife), so they leave him to his own devices when he’s finally able to move again.

His omega isn’t there, of course. Johnny can tell from a quick glance around the gym and a sniff of the air. But they were, and that’s all that matters. 

Their reappearance sharpens his resolve. Runs it against a whetstone, his time of waiting coming to an end. He rolls his shoulders back and puffs his chest out in anticipation. It can’t come soon enough. 

Nothing stays silent for long when a wolf is watching from the shadows. Eventually it has to make a sound. 

It’s quiet in the gym at two a.m. (a far cry from his usual time, but the hunt demands sacrifice), only the sound of a single treadmill whirring and shoes hitting the belt disturbing the near silence. 

Johnny smells you the second he walks in. It punches him right in the chest when he inhales and the ripe, sticky scent of his omega flows into his lungs. Mouth watering on instinct. Rutilant eyed, he tilts his head wolf-like and stares down towards the other side of the gym where a pretty thing fiddles with the settings on the treadmill, settling into a light jog. 

He’s buried under an avalanche of want so powerful and so swift that it collapses him down to base instinct. Thoughts disconnected and hazy, blooming like a bruise in his head. 

Shouldnae be here, he wants to croon in your ear while he holds you down, almost swaying on his feet at the thought. Should be back in my bed at home takin’ my dick so deep in yer gorgeous cunt that ye can taste my cum on the back of yer tongue—

The employee manning the front desk doesn’t even look up when Johnny scans his pass and pushes through the turnstile, flipping to the next page of the magazine open in front of him.

It’s better that way. Johnny doesn’t know what he’d do if someone tried to stop him or get in his way. 

The gym is deserted at this time of night, only the single treadmill in use and someone that passes him on their way out, a gust of wind at Johnny’s back signalling their departure. Everything always works out in his favour. He suffers for it, but God rewards him for his patience. 

He takes a seat on the closest available training machine and doesn’t even pretend to use it. Johnny’s never been much of a performer anyway. Instead, he drops his gym bag down on the floor beside the chest press machine and leans forward, elbows resting against his knees. 

He’s lucky that you’re too concentrated on your workout to feel the heat of his stare. Your phone rests on its side in front of you, an episode of a show playing to distract you while you run. Earphones in to block out the noise. He knows Ghost would tell him to correct that. Can’t have his omega distracted while alphas lurk nearby waiting to dig their teeth into the supple lump of flesh sitting tantalizing just below the collar of your shirt—

A bead of sweat runs down his temple and his dick twitches in his sweats. 

There are cuffs in his gym bag. Tools of the trade. It’s not as innocent as he lets himself think, but they’re there in case things go sideways. Sideways like if you take one look at him and run the other way when you notice the way his half-lidded eyes barely blink as he stares at you. 

And he can’t have that. Not now that he’s found you. 

His patience is unwavering when the circumstances call for it. It’s a skill he picked up in the service, learning to channel all of the frenetic energy coursing through him into a tight point at the back of his mind, compressing it all down to a singularity that later he’ll allow to expand and burn itself out like a dying star. 

Not now though. Now he sits and he watches and he waits.

He stares at your ass while you run, crossfaded on his alpha’s slabbering hunger and his own need to wrench those leggings down your hips. When he has the luxury of time, he’ll tie you to his bed by your wrists and ankles, belly down to make it easier on him, and sink his teeth into the flesh of your ass until it’s tender to the touch, until even ghosting his hand over your ass makes you squirm and weep. 

Even the thought has a growl rumbling at the back of his throat. 

You’re not a very fast runner, but you’re quick enough. Like a rabbit, Johnny thinks and nearly laughs at his own joke. A distracted one at that, too concerned with what’s in front of you to notice what’s lurking right behind. 

No matter. He sits and he waits. 

Eventually, the treadmill starts to slow down, and with it, you. Panting to catch your breath. Fingers trembling when you pause the video on your phone and scrub a towel down your face to wipe off the sweat. 

And for once the entire gym smells of nothing but a honeyed sweetness. Spun sugar and strawberry Angel Delight. Intoxicating and heady. It permeates the building, dragging him deeper into a drugged haze, dulling his senses, plugging his ears with cotton until the only thing he can hear is the sound of your rabbit-quick heartbeat going bump-bump-bump in your chest.

You must have been finishing your workout with a light jog because when the treadmill comes to a complete stop, you take another second to catch your breath and then step off to the side, draping your towel around the back of your neck and heading for the locker room. 

Johnny feels himself rise to his feet but there’s no consciousness behind it. No intent beyond primordial reflex, prey drive kicking in when you try getting away. He forgets about everything else—the employee at the front desk, his gym bag next to him. His knees don’t even crack for once, the movement fluid, and when he follows you towards the locker room, his feet hardly make a sound. 

It’s to his advantage that you haven’t noticed him yet, but he’ll deal with that soon enough. The locked room door swings shut behind you and there’s a second where he hesitates, better thoughts creeping past his alpha to whisper in his ear that he doesn’t have to do it this way. He’s never had trouble with an omega before—why use force now?

And then he hears a locker slam shut on the other side and instinct takes over. 

You’re half-undressed in the middle of the locker room when he walks in, clad only in your panties and bra, and his world narrows down to that moment. Everything in his life has led him to this. Like a red sea parting; the universe suddenly giving him a sign, beckoning him forth. 

The door swings shut behind him and your ears twitch at the noise. 

He’s done this before in another life. Three strides and he slips right up behind you, arms winding around your front to pull you into his chest and covering your mouth with his hand. You freeze for a split second before going haywire, flailing in his hold, his hand muffling your screams.

“Shh, it’s just me, doe,” Johnny shushes you, arms constricting around you. Relishing the feeling of your body against his, warmer and softer than he imagined. 

You shriek behind his hand, twisting in his hold and trying with all your might to break free. Simple thoughts for simple creatures. Even when you try to bite his hand, Johnny only coos, cock swelling at the feeling of your tongue on his skin. The little kittenish licks just rile him up. He likes it less when you try to headbutt him, narrowly missing his nose when you throw your head back. 

When he dips his nose into the crook of your neck, he can’t help the growl that slips out of him.

“Enough o’ tha’,” Johnny growls, words reverberating with his annoyance. 

The sound makes you still, prey instincts as sharp as his. Smart girl. You know when not to push your luck. He’s bigger and stronger, and his teeth are precariously close to your mating gland, which sits nestled in the crook of your neck. 

He breathes in. Your scent is strongest there, at the base of your neck. A delicate layer of skin and then underneath it, your blood sings. Whispers praises high and sweet to him. A shuddering breath out. 

You mumble something behind his hand. Tremble violently, your nails digging into his forearm with a biting sting. 

He shushes you again. “No’ here, baby—gotta take ye somewhere more private.” 

He pays no mind to the way you resume your screaming behind his hand as drags you deeper into the locker room and away from the door. Hardly needs to use any of his real strength, only a fraction of it. The fight you put up would almost be endearing, would almost make him go thatta girl and nip at the tip of your nose, if not for the way it triggers his instincts, an innate urge to dominate you into submission. 

It isn’t hard to wrestle you to the floor in the showers. Like play fighting, all bark and whine and keen, teeth snapping an inch from his nose until he pins you under him, snarling right in your face until you submit. That gets you to stop making a fuss. The last thing he wants is to deal with a front desk employee trying to play the hero by pulling him off you. Not that anyone could. He’d rather this not end in bloodshed. 

“Tha’s better,” Johnny growls. “Jus’ be nice, a’right?”

You shiver at his words, eyes wide and petrified, darting all over his face. Even tinged with your fear, how could he not preen under your gaze now that you’re getting a proper look at him? He knows what he looks like—rugged and strong, mohawk recently cleaned up and beard freshly trimmed. Not a behemoth like Ghost, but big for an alpha, broad shouldered and beefy. 

Big for an alpha in a couple different ways, he leers.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whimper, and that breaks his heart. How could he ever? How could he ever look at something as perfect as you and want to ruin it? His chest aches at the thought. 

“No, baby,” he whines, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. “Ah would never, baby, never. Dinnae be scared. Ah’m no’ gonna hurt you, doe.” 

He drags his nose down the length of your head, running his tongue over the rounded corner of your jaw. Your sweat tastes of wet roses and tart jam. Still intoxicating, but wrong, sour and sodden with fear. It makes his skin itch and his shoulders tense. You shouldn’t be scared of him; his omega should never be scared of him. 

“Ye cannae smell it, doe?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss into your neck, lingering there so he can feel your pulse flutter against his lips. “Ah can… Cannae smell a damn thing else when yer around. S’all ah can think about.”

“What are you talking about?” you whisper, so frightened that you can barely squeeze the words out, fear choking you. He can’t stand it. The thought that you might find him dangerous makes his throat burn, agony ripping his chest open and yanking his insides out. 

He braces himself up on his forearms and forces his hand under your head, lifting your head up off the tile floor.

“How do ah smell, doe?” Johnny rasps, shoving your face into his neck and holding you there until you have no choice but to inhale. He feels the way you shudder when you do, hands spasming against his chest. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Just breathe it in, doe.”

You do, shakily. Then a deeper inhale, filling your lungs with his scent. 

“I—oh god—” you groan, your hands suddenly fisting in Johnny’s shirt and dragging him closer. 

“Jesus,” he curses through clenched teeth, dizzy with lust. He goes with it, laying more of his body weight on top of you, hind brain taking over.

A long, deep inhale. Your nose digs into his neck. “What is that?” you whine. 

“S’the best thing in the fuckin’ world.” An understatement. Johnny’s eyelids fall shut when your tongue pokes out to lightly graze his neck. 

So much pent up emotion and anguish and want only for it suddenly—

stop.

Motion succumbing to instinct, to fate. Everything else is collateral damage when fate gets in the way. 

Your hands fisted in his shirt, scent ripening, fear replaced with something else—still sharp, but charged. Hesitant because you shouldn’t want this—it shouldn’t even be a thought in your head to indulge the strange man who wrestled you to the floor and forced you to scent him, but then you get a good whiff of him and that thought shakes like television static, like a mirage, like a glass surface wobbling right before it breaks—

When he pulls back, the world is different. 

You’re glassy eyed, so pliant now that he could do anything to you, anything at all. And then his eyes dip lower. 

He cups your neck with a clammy hand and strokes a finger over the lovely gland at the crook of your neck. It’s warm to the touch. 

“Look a’ this,” he breathes, awed. Your hand flies to his wrist, fingers barely able to wrap around it. 

“D-don’t touch it,” you choke out, swallowing harshly. It has to be sensitive. Still, Johnny can’t keep from stroking his finger over it again, soaking up the way his touch makes you shiver. Poor thing, gone so long without your alpha’s touch. 

“Ah cannae help it, doe,” Johnny whispers. He switches to his thumb, rubbing the pad of it over your gland until you whine and squirm, eyebrows drawn tight together. “Does it hurt, baby? Do ye need me tae make it better?”

You whine, trying to weakly bat his hand away. “N-no, that’s for my alpha—” 

“Aye, tha’s right.” His eyes gleam fulgurite under the fluorescent lights. “Fer yer alpha.”

He digs his thumb in harder until your mouth opens on a silent cry. 

His alpha drools a messy puddle beneath his skin, jowls sagging. It stares without blinking. 

It’s different than lust or bloodthirst. Darker; deep-seated. He’s never felt this way before, and, if his gut feeling proves true, he never will again. It’s like looking down a vast, dark hall, and seeing only one way out. 

A damp shower room floor in a locker room is no place for him to take his omega for the first time, but he couldn’t lift himself off you if he tried. His muscles feel far too heavy, like lead weights dragging him down, the gravity stronger here somehow.

“Let’s get this off,” he murmurs, sitting back on his haunches.

“Wait—wait, not here, alpha, please—”

Your protests fall on deaf ears. He wrenches your bra over your head, mindful not to let the back of your head smack against the tile floor. “Gentle, gentle—there we go. Tha’s a good girl.”

Your panties come next, stripped off and tossed elsewhere. His lips follow the path of his hands, sucking kisses into your hips and thighs until your fingers thread into his hair and yank. He yelps, scalp tingling with pain.

“Do tha’ again, doe,” Johnny purrs, shuddering when you do. Eyes rolling back in his head.

His world tilts on its axis when he forces your legs apart and stares at the perfect slice of heaven between your thighs. 

“Doe.” Voice broken, shredded. Running his thumb up the seam of your lips and moaning when your hole clenches at his touch and a drop of slick leaks out. “Oh, doe…she’s so…” 

Too awestruck for words. Language is beyond his grasp, too inadequate for the feelings coursing through him. Lacklustre, diaphanous thing. There’s no way to describe the feeling of leaning forward and touching his lips to yours, angling his head to give her a proper kiss, one with tongue and feeling. She kisses him back just as passionately. 

The taste of you is incomparable. He can’t believe he ever thought there was a world where he could subsist on just the smell of you. Impossible now that he’s had you on his tongue. He runs it up the seam of your pussy, the flat of his tongue spread wide to catch every honeyed dewdrop clinging to your skin, sucking each fold into his mouth to be extra thorough. The pearl sitting nice and pretty at the top gets a wet kiss for waiting so long for his touch. 

He pulls back for a second to catch his breath. “So pretty, baby,” Johnny whines, pulling the hood of your clit up with his thumb and sucking her into his mouth.

“Oh my god—” 

He buries his face into your cunt, the bridge of his nose wedged against your clit and making you howl. He doesn’t budge even when you practically wrench his hair out by the roots, too committed to making your pussy squirt all over his face. Not an easy task with the way you keep trying to push him away from your cunt, but Johnny’s always risen to any challenge. 

You howl when he wedges his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, thighs clamping around his head. Not a bad way to go, Johnny thinks in a daze, chin wet with your juices and nose nuzzling your sensitive little clit, making your whole body jolt. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs spasm and your scent goes marzipan sweet, so lush and rich that his swollen cock leaks in his sweatpants.

It’s easy to get lost in your pleasure; Johnny feels it like it’s his own, his low back aching with the force of your impending orgasm. He misses your clit too much to let her get lonely though, so he lets go of your hip to push a couple fingers into your hole instead of his tongue. 

“C’mon, doe, lemme see ye come,” he whines into your pussy, thrusting all three fingers into your hole, half-lidded eyes with blown out pupils watching the way your pussy gobbles them up. “Just like tha’—oh, there we go, baby, oh my god, come on, yes—lemme have it, doe—”

Your release is wet on his hand and all over his face. Little pussy still milking his fingers, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

A hush falls over the room, the moment almost devotional. He thinks you might be crying, but it’s hard to tell because the blood in his ears is too loud and his hand is wet with your come and he wants nothing more than to do it all over again until you can’t even talk. 

He rises to his feet in a daze, a deep red flush high on his cheekbones. His shirt comes off first, pulled over the back of his head and tossed behind him; his sweats are similarly discarded, tugged down and kicked away until you’re staring up at him in all his hairy, naked glory, cock flush with blood and heavy, drooping away from his stomach.  

He laughs when he notices where your gaze has dropped. “Like what ye see?”

“I don’t know about this—” you start, but he pays your words no mind. 

“C’mere,” he growls, suppressing the urge to wince when he drops to his knees again.

Johnny hooks an arm under your low back, hoisting your hips up until your ass rests against his thighs, making your back arch. It thrusts your tits up towards his face and he nearly goes cross-eyed staring down at your cute little nipples. They look lonely too. 

He gets distracted again, forgetting about sinking his cock in your cunt in favour of hunching over to get his mouth on your tits. Sucks one until it's hard and pebbled against his tongue and circles his tongue over the soft areola skin, completely forgetting about your other breast. It’s hard to pull himself off. 

You yelp when he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but deliberate enough to tick you off. 

“That’s too rough!” you hiss, grabbing him by the hair again. 

“Sorry,” Johnny gasps. He nuzzles between your breasts, practically purring. “Ah’m so sorry, doe, ah couldnae help myself…”

Puppyish, he leans up to bunt his head under your chin, shuddering when your fingers loosen and hesitantly scratch his head. 

“…Okay…” you murmur, overwhelmed. He ignores you, too content with nuzzling into your neck while you run your nails over his scalp.

Being this close to you after weeks of nothing is almost enough. The air reeks with your scent. If it weren’t for the ugly, festering ache in his belly, he’d be tempted to skip straight to this. Roll onto his back and pull you onto his chest, press his nose to the crown of your head and breathe in until it lulls him right to sleep. Maybe get a good belly scratch at the same time.

Then he inhales and the scent of your come on his chin makes his spine go stiff. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

It can’t wait anymore. The thing under his skin shakes with hunger, its greed a ravenous, frothing appetite that goes mindless when it waits for its food. Do it. Do it now.

He braces a hand against the tile floor to lift himself up and pets your cheek with his free hand. “Ah’m gonna put it in now, okay, doe?” 

And he means it too, stomach cramping with eager anticipation, knot already filling up at the base of his dick—still small enough to pop it into your hole, but not for much longer—because it’s everything he’s dreamt of since he first caught your scent in the air. 

That must not be the case for you. 

When you twist onto your belly and try to scramble away, he stares dumbly for a second before seeing red. Johnny crawls after you, dragging you back by your ankle when you get a bit too far away and flipping you over again. You hiss when the back of your head smashes against the floor, hands reaching up to cradle it instinctively. 

You get it snarled right in your face, his anger erupting out of him like a geyser, like a dense fog rolling down from the mountains and spreading to everything below. “Ye dinnae fuckin’ move.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe. 

Even consumed by rage, he can smell your terror. Putrid, not the soft sweetness of your usual scent. There’s pain there too, and it makes his muscles tense like he’s ready to spring. It’s what brings his alpha to the surface, the scorch of anger cooling slowly as you lie there trembling. 

It doesn’t feel good, but he can’t—he can’t let you go. 

His hands flutter over your face, squeezing your cheeks and leaning down to plant kiss after soft kiss on your lips. “Doe, please, ye cannae do tha’…ah wanna be gentle, but ah cannae control myself if ye—” Johnny can’t bring himself to say it, the image too painful to contemplate. There’s no reason on Earth that his omega should be trying to run away from him.

“O-okay, alpha…I…I’ll be good.” 

His self-control is hairstring thin. “Yer just nervous, right? Tha’ why ye tried tae run?”

“I-I’m just nervous, alpha.” It’s a neat trick, repeating his words back to him in order to calm him down. It works. 

His chest deflates as he kneels there over you. Johnny stares into your eyes a few seconds longer, a subtle reminder not to fucking move, before he sits up again, rolling his shoulders back and tugging your lower half in again. 

This time when he notches the head of his cock against your entrance, you whisper oh god oh god oh god to yourself but you don’t try to run. It must seem inevitable—no way to fight him off or talk him out of it because there’s a film over his eyes that reflects nothing back. 

And then he slowly sinks his cock into you, your hole stretching around the mushroomed head. His jaw rolls on a shaky exhale.

Something in him cracks wide open and—

something ugly slithers out.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, voice cracking. His cock sinks in another inch, warm, wet heat sucking him in. “Jesus, doe, ah cannae fuckin’ breathe—”

You flex your hips at his words, ankles digging into the divots above his arse and pulling him in until he suddenly bottoms out, cock stuffed to the root in the warmest, snuggest cunt he’s ever felt. It nearly makes him go mad; he gets so close to it that his face goes numb, the blood pounding in his ears. He curls over you, a string of curses slipping out of his mouth. 

You’re there when Johnny opens his eyes again, damp hair haloing you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, a tear slipping past your waterline and dribbling down your face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

“It’s okay, doe.” His hands run up and down your sides, soothing you. “S’just instinct. Ye cannae help it any more than ah can.”

Your walls squeeze around his shaft, nerves making you tense up, and Johnny groans, his hand curling into a fist by your head. It takes every iota of his being not to come right then, buried to the hilt in your pussy with your ankles digging into his low back. He nearly does when you whine at him to move. 

“Okay, baby,” he breathes. 

Johnny tries to be gentle at first. Makes a conscious effort to rock into you with slow, smooth strokes, distracting you with a deep, wet kiss. Lips gliding together, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth only to graze it with his teeth, heat rushing through him when you tremble. Coaxing your tongue into his mouth and then sucking on it.

His control starts to slip when he tries to pull out and your ankles dig into his back, pulling him back in. The force of his next thrust makes your body shift, sliding up the wet floor. Too much. Be gentle. But he can’t—the pressure in his core gets worse the longer he fucks you, an eagerness to reach his end building and building. All he can do is chase it. Bite at its heels. 

“Yer so pretty,” he rasps, petting your face with shaky hands and bucking his hips into yours until you can’t hold back your pretty little moans. “Pretty, pretty doe. Ah’ve got ye, love.”

A few more like that, pounding into you until you squeak like a toy and he laughs, breathless and full of mirth. Buoyant. Revelling in the sound of you coming apart under him, all fractured pleas and kiss-swollen lips. 

Perfect angel, all sweetness and moans and cream coating his cock, gleaming under the fluorescent lights every time he pulls out. 

There’s a white ring at the base of his dick from the mess of your combined fluids. Johnny nearly passes out when he notices. 

His bad knee aches from digging into the tile floor. He’ll feel it in the morning when he wakes up with bruises on his elbows and shins, muscles stiff and twinging when he moves, but it’s a price he’ll happily pay to keep his pretty doe on her back with her legs spread. 

Any lingering guilt about fucking you on the gross shower room floor evaporates the more you pant and the wetter you get because, he rationalizes, on some level you must want him just as bad. Not with the same fervour, not a bone bright ache that sucks you dry and spits you out like a peach pit, but close enough that you aren’t pushing him away anymore. 

He ignores the weak pressure on his shoulders. Pries your hands off so he can pin your wrists together over your head. 

“Been lookin’ fer ye fer so long,” Johnny croons. He ruts into you clumsily, losing any semblance of finesse. “Smelt ye weeks ago ‘n knew…knew ah had tae have ye.”

Your eyes fly open, stunned. “Weeks?” you gasp.

“Thought ah’d lose my fuckin’ mind lookin’ fer ye.” His breath comes out ragged. “Couldnae sleep or eat or do anythin’ except jerk my cock raw. Should’ve saved it all up fer ye, but…” his laughter is a deep, brassy thing. “…ye’ll still get a fair share.”

“You’re disgusting,” you moan, and that makes him laugh even more, rutting into you like a beast.

“Christ, doe, keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“You’re a—”

dumb, nasty dog

sick in the head, fucking me with that big, fat dick—

He grunts and his lip pulls back in a mean, crooked grin. 

It’s never been like this before. Like someone drilled a hole in the side of his head and filled it up with you. You’re in every crevice of his mind and body, mycorrhizal tendril spreading through him.

“Ah’m gonna ruin yer pretty cunt, doe,” Johnny rasps, neck soaked with sweat and eyes burning hot, pupils blown so wide only a glimmer of blue remains. “Get her nice ‘n soaked with my come.”

“Alpha—” you keen, for lack of anything else to call him and it makes his vision go blank. 

That’s the only truth that matters to him. Like a divine calling—his omega begging for him, asking for more more more. It’s as close to love as he’s ever gotten; as close to heaven as he ever will. 

Diving headfirst into oblivion. He clamps his hands around your waist to hold you in place and fucks into you with renewed vigour, losing himself in the pleasure. Any coherent thought evaporates, reduced to mindless instinct. His beast and him are indistinguishable; two sides of the same coin; he looms over you Janus-faced, a god of beginnings and endings. 

He breathes out heavily through his nose, teeth gritting together and lips pulled into a flat line. So close to it, knot catching more with every thrust, almost too big to pull out. 

The smack of his hips against yours fill his ears, drowning out your pleading and keening. Seismic motions churning beneath the tile floor keep a steady pulse. The lewd squelch of your pussy nearly drives him mad—slick running down your thighs, pooling onto the floor beneath you, this place irrevocably changed because of your mating— 

If only you’d squirt on his dick too, he could die happy. Scream out alpha, alpha, alpha until you shudder and come.

And you do eventually—milk his dick filthy sweet and cling onto him for dear life, nails scoring red lines into the flesh of his back. His muscles bunching under your touch. 

“Fuck, doe,” Johnny chokes, near tears himself. His perfect girl coming all over his cock, eyes rolling back in your head like it’s never been like this for you before. “Tha’s right, tha’s right—such a good fuckin’ girl—oh, baby—”

You need him. No other alpha can take care of you he would. It’s not enough that he fuck you, not enough that he make you come, not enough that he see you through your next heat, he has to—

Take it all for himself, every last fuckin’ inch of you his.

He bears down on you, scooping his arms under your back until there’s no space between you, chests pressed together. 

His eyes zero in on it. The nodule of flesh at the crook of your neck. And his teeth itch like they’ve never itched before, too large for his mouth. 

“Alpha—” you sob, squirming in his hold. “Alpha—too tight—”

He can’t respond. Mouth full of drool and teeth, fucking you harder than you should be fucked, cockhead trying to kiss your cervix with every thrust. He’d crawl inside of you if he could. His thrusts only slow when his knot finally catches, the pressure making you sob when he tries to pull out and he can’t, stuck inside you. Lazy grinds of his hips now, getting as deep as possible. 

It’s a shock to his system so profound that he can’t stop shaking. His first knot—better than a ring, more binding than a marriage contract. The most basic, ancient covenant. Irrevocable. 

And—it feels—

Indescribable. His thoughts leak from his ears like tar. Eager, fevered. Eyes fixed on your mating gland, dropping his head to get a better view. Better up close, so close that his teeth graze it every time he pants, so sharp that one wrong move and they’ll slice right through, one twitch and it’s game over—

You mewl and arch your chest, inadvertently thrusting your neck up too, so his canine drags across your gland—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

The beast under his skin has a name and it’s—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

(and his teeth just slipped, he’ll say when you ask)

Ah dinnae mean tae, doe, honest—

But ah’ll take care of ye—

You’ll never understand it, but there’s a beast that lives under his skin and it—

—yearns, craves, hungers, howls like its belly is still empty even after all this time, constantly aching no matter how much it’s fed—

Sometimes Johnny wonders if it’s like this for other alphas. Whether they crave their mates with the same intensity, the same burning need smoldering in their veins. He asks Price once and gets an answer that neither confirms nor denies. 

All Johnny knows is that your legs shake when you follow him out of the gym, the employee behind the front desk not meeting his eyes. Better that he not. There’s still blood and come on his chin, his grey sweats stained at the crotch. You’re no better, shirtless under your puffy jacket, hat jammed on a bit too low on your head because he had to be the one to put you back together after taking you apart. 

And though he’s sheepish on the drive home—because what’s his is yours now, and what’s yours is his—your car still back in the parking lot until he can get someone to pick it up in the morning, he wears guilt like sheep’s clothing. It doesn’t fit quite right. 

“We’ll get ye a nice wedding gift tomorrow,” he placates when you huff, thumbing your swollen bottom lip at the next stoplight. It’s tempting to lean in and suck it into his mouth, even now. 

“I’m gonna max out your fucking credit cards,” you mumble, scowling at him. Still, you wrap your lips around his thumb when he slips it into your mouth. 

You cup your hand over your punctured mating gland in lieu of a bandage. 

Johnny cackles. Man plans and God laughs.

In the distance, thunder rumbles and your head turns towards the sound that only you and he can hear.

[dmitriene]

plink inspiration

simon riley rearranging your pussy while spreading your asscheeks, thrusting his lengthy, thick cock in your tight, constricting warmth as your gummy walls ripple, his palms holding onto your supple skin, sinking in, spreading your fat as his thumbs point on your asshole, the tight, gaping hole clenches in front of his lidded, darkened gaze.

his cock gliding slowly, pulling back until only his twitching, fat tip remains inside your gooey, spasming walls, before sheathing himself back to the hilt in one hard, powerful thrust, repeating it over and over again, knocking those chocked, slurred mewls right from your lungs, as you squeeze your legs, holding yourself up properly through the jolting.

accepting the burn from his muscular hips that hit repeatedly against your ass, skin raw from his blunt, sinking nails using you as a leverage, and the slap of skin against skin that resonates lewdly across the bedroom, before simon skims his calloused palms up your cheeks, groping at the round, bouncing globs, tugging them down roughly, almost scratching at your tender skin.

simon starts to ram into your squelching, sappy pussy, jackhammering against the small, spongy spot located deep in your spasming walls, aching pleasantly when his throbbing, leaking tip bumps into the spot, making you sputter out a chorus of loud moans, arching your back in a sweet curve, even through afraid he can slip into your pretty ass at any moment.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[screampied]

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto. 

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending. 

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to. 

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more. 

straight convulsions, 

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still. 

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . . 

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . . 

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself. 

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying. 

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . . 

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours. 

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight. 

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem. 

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure. 

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering. 

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

A Little Bit Of California, With A Little Bit Of London Sky (ao3) - twelfthnlght

Summary: (alternatively, dan and phil go outside.)

on an impulsive road trip dan plans right before their high school graduation, the truth will out.

Australian Adventures (ao3) - shippercentral

Summary: An Instagram story of Dan and Phil’s island adventures in Australia seem normal, but what really went on behind the scenes? Why did Dan really cover up Phil’s face in that one story? This semi- normal get away seems to be leaving a lot of questions.

berlin (ao3) - waveydnp and dizzy

Summary: dan and phil meet at a hostel in berlin.

Dan and Phil's Stroll Through Japan (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: When Duncan and Mimei have to cancel on their plans with Dan and Phil for the day, they take it upon themselves to stroll around Japan by themselves.

Disney World Misadventures - auroraphilealis

Summary: Dan, a law student with parents so strict they make him come home every weekend, gets ditched by his friends at Disney World in Florida during his short summer holiday. Alone, he runs into an incredibly attractive YouTuber who nerds out about anime with him, and even buys him a tiny Ciel figurine. Dan, meanwhile, quickly finds himself falling in love, especially after they get it on in a Disney World bathroom.

Glimpses of Portugal (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: Dan and Phil went to Portugal together May 27-June 3, 2010, but very little is known about the trip. This is a random collection of ficlets that take place during that trip, occasionally incorporating some of the few actual tweets and photos from the trip. They aren't in any particular order, but they all take place during that holiday in Portugal.

how to survive a flight to australia - softiejace

summary:inspired by “will dan and phil survive australia?” in which dan suffers through horror in the form of planes, noise, and other people. but hey, at least he’s in it with phil.

Iowa 80 - realityisnoplacetolive

Summary: In which Phil is stranded in Iowa.

It's Good To Be In Manchester (ao3) - danrifics

Summary: Dan and Phil are in Manchester visiting their friends Ian and Lauren Ian and Lauren’s daughter draws a cute photo of Phil.

(Based on a Phil insta story, link in notes)

Manchester (ao3) - ahappyphil

Summary: 13 March 2010 @amazingphil- “Looking at apartments in Manchester:]”

Memories in Melbourne (ao3) - hilariousandunappreciated

Summary: moments from Dan and Phil's instagram stories in Melbourne.

Moscow to Berlin (ao3) - outphan

Summary: What happens when they get horny on the plane?

New Zealand During Six AM (ao3) - watergator

Summary: Dan and Phil wake up early during their first day in new zealand to get some laundry done.

Phoenix Rising (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan challenges Phil to a period of forced abstinence while on tour in America. The game becomes unbearable, and each man has moments of weakness. In the end, it is all about passion and urgency.

That's What You Get (For Waking Up in Vegas) (ao3) - notanannoyingfangirl

Summary: While revisiting Vegas for Dan’s twenty fourth birthday, Dan and Phil both have a bit too much to drink…. and apparently wake up married. Dan’s not entirely sure that he wants a divorce, now he just has to convince Phil.

Under Vegas Lights (ao3) - LunarLoverrr (orphan_account)

Summary: It's the last night of their Nevada road trip, and Phil has the perfect date planned for his boyfriend. However, he hopes this date will be a stand out among the rest.

Vegas (ao3) - justhavesex

Summary: When Dan turns 30 and Dan makes a video titled 'Vegas', a short home made video with him and Phil at the alter in Vegas. Not when they were younger, but the current them. He wanted to live out everybody's fantasies about them getting married in Vegas, just a tiny bit.

Vegas Lights - softiejace

Summary:2012 is not going as planned, but phil still takes dan to vegas for his 21st birthday, the city that is said to hold adventure, risk and fortune – and maybe a flimsy hope for conciliation?

Venice: City Of Dreams (ao3) - expiredlove

Summary: Dan and Phil are on holiday in Venice, Italy, with two of their best friends. They discover the city with their unprofessional tour guide Phil and end their day with a romantic stop at the Accademia Bridge, which is known for its so called love locks.

We’re Going To Disney World! - dxnhowell

Summary: A future fic where Dan and Phil are no longer youtubers. They’re married and have two kids named Kaden and Josh. Josh decides that he wants to go to Disney World for his birthday this year.

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

cod masterlist

[themculibrary]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

A Long Way From Budapest (ao3) - AlphaFlyer clint/natasha, clint/laura T, 14k

Summary: Natasha remembers letting go. She remembers falling, endlessly, the jagged black rocks rising to meet her. And then, nothing – until the moment her eyes and her mind opened to the golden glow.

Avengers At Disney World (ao3) - ctxrover clint/natasha, steve/bucky T, 70k

Summary: Fury's fed up of the Avengers not behaving like a team, so he's sending them on a bonding trip to Disney World with Hill as their babysitter. Meanwhile, Coulson rarely gets to spend time with his kids so he takes them to Disney World. The problem? They're going at the same time as the Avengers-who don't know of Coulson's survival. Some sort of AU. Clintasha. Some Stucky. Rated T.

Brooklyn (ao3) - togina steve/bucky T, 8k

Summary: “Captain America, what’s your stance on gay marriage?”

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Budapest (ao3) - JunesPegasus N/R, 4k

Summary: Clint Barton aka Hawkeye is sent to eliminate a Russian assassin: Natasha Romanova. But he is soon enchanted by her seductive charme and things turn out way different than he planned.

Clint's a Nerd From Iowa (ao3) - Big_Hazard bucky/clint T, 4k

Summary: Part of the Avengers shows up on Clint's lawn. He doesn't want them there, but he's also too lazy to make them leave. Clint shows them around Iowa anyway because he's a nice guy, and somewhere along the way secrets that weren't really secrets come out.

Disney World (ao3) - Kenzie_Marvel G, 9k

Summary: Natasha and Tony takes Yelena and Peter to Disney World, cute chaos ensues. :)

ever since new york (ao3) - 1000_directions clint/phil M, 1k

Summary: “You’ve been here longer than I have,” Clint says, and he looks into Phil’s eyes. “Is this heaven or hell? I mean, you died. And you’re here. So I guess I’m dead, too, right?”

“I did die,” Phil says thoughtfully. “But only a little bit. I got better.”

Here's to Las Vegas (ao3) - iam93percentstardust steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Las Vegas (ao3) - elcapitan_rogers steve/natasha M, 219k

Summary: Steve was freaking out over his own wedding and the gang decided to take him to Las Vegas to unwind him.

Malibu (ao3) - glitteratiglue steve/bucky M, 13k

Summary: Steve believes Bucky is dead for exactly a week. Then he doesn't.

(AU where Steve rescues Bucky before Hydra can turn him into the Winter Soldier. They get to go home from the war, but that's only the start.)

Malibu Madness (ao3) - Vanilla98 steve/tony, clint/natasha E, 35k

Summary: After an eventful semester at school, Tony brings Steve and his four other friends to his new house in Malibu. There, they get to see what Tony goes through at home. And to be honest, they're not impressed. Howard Stark is always abusing him, Maria Stark is barely at home and there is only so much Jarvis and Ana can handle. Moreover, they can see Tony struggling to hold up his masks. Will they, especially Steve, be able to convince Tony that he is going to be okay and that they will always be there for him?

nevada heat, nevada streets (ao3) - loverloser steve/tony G, 4k

Summary: steve rogers takes a ride, and his bike breaks down in las vegas, nevada. tony stark's garage is the only one with a light on.

New York (ao3) - capsiclewidow steve/natasha T, 5k

Summary: Some days were okay. Some weren’t. None of them were ever good.

It came in waves. She’d be fine for a while - not good, only fine - and then suddenly she’d reach into her closet for a clean shirt, pull one out that didn’t belong to her, and Steve would find her curled up in bed wearing one of Clint’s old flannels shaking with tears she refused to let him see. She hated it, despised the person she’d turned into, which made everything worse. She wouldn’t speak to him for days at a time, but he’d still be there, making sure she ate and drank water and worked out every once in a while and didn’t spend too much time alone.

Two years and he still refused to leave her.

No Sleep 'Till Brooklyn (ao3) - softdadironman T, 6k

Summary: For someone with such a strong sense of responsibility (if you've ever talked to Peter, you know he spits out the phrase "With great power comes great responsibility" on the daily), Peter was a reckless piece of work.

In which Peter juggles his duties as Spider-Man, as a student, as a part time employee, as an Avenger, and as a kid.

Seduced in Sokovia (ao3) - Sholio T, 2k

Summary: "You're not looking close enough," Bucky said. "Read the titles."

Sam picked up the nearest book, on which a woman in a long purple gown was being either menaced or romanced—it was sort of hard to tell—by a dark-haired, pirate-like man in a flowing white shirt. There was a castle in the background that looked stereotypically medieval. The title was—

 "...Sold to the Sokovian?"

That's What You Get for Waking Up in Vegas (ao3) - LordOfThePoptarts natasha/tony M, 3k

Summary: Natasha and Tony have been dancing around each other for a year now. Both are perfectly happy to use the other as post-battle stress relief and 3 AM post-nightmare confidants, but they are the very definition of consummate professionals when they aren't alone and in highly emotionally charged situations. All that changes when the two attend a gala in Las Vegas.

The Only Guy Steve Knows Who Lives In Brooklyn (ao3) - Beans (provetheworst) clint/natasha T, 27k

Summary: Clint’s the only guy Steve knows who lives in Brooklyn, which is probably why the Winter Soldier starts hanging around his apartment. Clint has had worse houseguests, but even that doesn’t explain how he ends up on a thirty three hour flight to Madripoor trying to save the guy Captain America’s probably in love with from mad scientists.

What Happens in Budapest…Comes Home to Roost (ao3) - MarbleGlove clint/laura T, 4k

Summary: Found family and unexpected allies, monsters that needed killing and recovering from brainwashing, … yeah, the New York alien invasion really did remind Natasha of Budapest.

What happens in Vegas... (ao3) - asamandra clint/tony, pepper/tony M, 6k

Summary: When Tony was dying from palladium poisoning he ended very drunk in Las Vegas... and married...

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: “What do you do?”

“Other people’s boyfriends, apparently.”

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn’t sure if he’s hitting his lowest point, but at least he’s hitting something.

Caught in Seattle (ao3) - cornflowerblue (daydadahlias), thesaltyspice calum/ashton, other(s) E, 82k (WIP)

Summary: or, the one where Calum is supposed to be sober but, somehow, he finds himself a new addiction in the form of a cowboy hat-wearing groupie

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Hotel California (ao3) - persephone_evans michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: Ashton wakes up in the most expensive hotel he’s ever been in. Only problem, he can’t remember how he got there or how he paid for it. But when he meets Calum and gets introduced to Michael and Luke, he doesn’t care anymore.

a hotel california au that i wrote in a fit of depression

LA is not for the weak (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton M, 34k

Summary: Anybody who has ever lived in LA can second that the vibe is off. So much goes down in Los Angeles every single day that there is no way you can know everything about this city. Negative energies have the tendency to spread much quicker than positive ones, and it shows. Having lived in Los Angeles for as little as a couple of months, perhaps even less, can change you for the rest of your life. Some people recover from LA, almost as if it were a flu, but some people can never seem to snap out of it. For those of the last category, even if they are on the other side of the world, they are still in LA. Or, really, LA is still in them.

After everything that has happened in the past couple of years, Luke Hemmings is not doing okay. Los Angeles has really started to take its toll on him, and the constant pressure of being in the public eye doesn't make it any easier.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons. 

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

walmart sonata (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum M, 33k

Summary: Luke shakes his head. He doesn’t really understand Calum. What is this beautiful man doing being sweet and kind to him in the Walmart he works at several times a week? Luke’s life doesn’t include things like this. He just smiles at Calum slightly disbelievingly, it’s not like Calum will ever really see him perform. He’s just a hot stranger from his grocery store.

Wembley (ao3) - smol_whale michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: 5sos are playing a show at Wembley and Cal, Ash and Luke bet that Michael is going to hurt himself on stage.

With a New York State of Mind (I Wanna Take My Heart to the End of the World) (ao3) - Lxverxofmxne G, 1k

Summary: 4 strangers, same destination. One road trip, 14 hours max. — “This is going to sound really weird, but do you wanna road trip with me?”

The men stared at Luke weirdly. He shrugged before continuing.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

[thecutestgrotto]

We desperately need some classical theatre themed dividers my gorgeous pooks, please 😣 just the dark reds and golds and the dramatic curtains and URGDHHDHS so hot

Hey pookie! Fun fact no one asked for lol: I was a theatre kid in high school (theatre tech), those curtains are HEAVY and the stage gets insanely hot with the lights, we were constantly sweating while working on equipment or building sets, it honestly was hell for a bunch of teenagers. 😭🩵🌸

Classical Theatre