#no need to prolong the torture

[livrary]

A friend of mine started watching Sherlock for (perhaps, she‘s not entirely sure herself) the first time and I watched an episode with her. It’s been so long since I last saw it and it was still enjoyable enough, except…

John is like a school boy doing an internship. Or maybe more accurately like a medical student shadowing. Like I can barely watch it, it reminds me so much of shadowing.

You watch the doctor leave the room and wonder if you should follow. Is he just getting coffee and getting up would be a waste of time and awkward, or is he going somewhere important?

You follow and you’re not entirely sure where you are and what’s going on and you don’t get the explanation you’re given and who are all these people?

You introduce yourself to the strangers and when you turn around you realise you‘ve been abandoned. Where has the doctor gone? Is he coming back? Are you missing out on the most educational experience of your life?

When you find him again you stick to him like glue and accidentally almost follow him to the toilet.

He asks you a question you don’t know the answer to and you fumble your way through some form of educational guess. You’re wrong. He tells you so ruthlessly and insults you in more ways you can comprehend. You‘ve never felt so stupid and incapable in your life. You‘re never going to amount to anything, this is all a waste of time.

Disheartened, you follow on to the next case. You try to become invisible, instead you stand in everybody‘s way and end up breaking the sterile field contaminating the crime scene. You apologise and want to die.

The doctor sends you to carry out a task on your own. You‘re nervous and do it meticulously. You know how much responsibility you carry and want to do well. When you return he asks you to report and immediately points out all the important details you missed. Somehow you screwed up again.

You‘ve been on your feet for hours, haven’t eaten or peed. You don’t know how long this is going to continue and you’re afraid to ask.

At the end of the day, you slink away, tail tucked between your legs. The doctor is feeling benevolent today and thanks you for your help. You feel deeply ashamed, because you know for certain: the most help you were today was when you managed to stand in that corner for half an hour where everybody forgot you even existed.

You hate yourself even more for knowing you‘re going to show up tomorrow to do it all over again.

…

I mean, John is slightly more capable than that and also has some more agency, but christ, it never made more sense to me that he‘s a doctor. He knows all about bumbling behind some guy who knows more than you and who’s going to be mean about it. Medical school really teaches you some impeccable life skills.

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

everything everywhere all at once and rrr won oscars and that’s all that matters

[solcarow]

.

[siixkiing]

Due to one of the tortures that Macaque endured down in the Diyu, he has two brands on his back. They’re on either shoulder, with one reading ‘traitor’ (叛徒) and the other ‘worthless’ (一文不值); he keeps them glamoured under a second layer.

[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[psychotrenny]

I think one of Imperialism's most evil strategies is the national scale torture you'll see inflicted on countries that dare to dream of freedom. Like it's not just about overthrowing the anti-imperialist regime itself, but utterly breaking the very social, economic and in turn psychological foundations it's built upon. Prolonged periods of destruction that are as systematic as they are sadistic with the aim of making life unlivable until the government either collapses or gives in, accepting whatever concessions are forced upon them as the nation is remoulded into an dependent and obedient little neocolony.

Sometimes an imperialist power will act directly to achieve this (just take the gratuitous and deliberate destruction of civil infrastructure during the bombings of Yugoslavia and Iraq), but the preferred strategy is to employ local proxies. Groups like RENAMO in Mozambique or the Contras of Nicaragua. Bands of reactionaries, traitors and general desperadoes are gathered up, trained, armed and transported over the border at the expense of the Imperialists and their local collaborators. These armed groups have no interest in build mass support, of representing an alternative way of life. Their only purpose is destruction; killing, torturing, looting, burning whatever they can in order to bring their country to its knees. Frequently targeting important nodes in the networks that sustain the nation and the people's faith in it (bridges, rail depots, factories, hospitals and schools) but ultimately happy to attack whatever they can; every house burned or person tortured contributes to the climate of terror and corrosion of government credibility. Because when they kill these groups don't like to do it cleanly; their attacks generate countless reports immolation, disembowelment, victims hacked to pieces and left to bleed. But when possible they prefer to leave their victims alive and capable of further spreading their terror, inflicting the most vicious sorts of rape and mutilation on a mass scale

It's not just just evil for the sake of evil mind you. The cruelty has a point; human destruction to accompany the physical. Every person killed is someone who can no longer contribute to the development of the nation, while even living yet physically and psychologically broken victim places further strain on their country's increasingly fragile support systems. Meanwhile the terror of these actions spreads the impact beyond their immediate victims. The murder and torture of peasants makes the survivors too scared to go back into their fields, slowly starving the nation as the rural economy grind to a halt. The gruesome deaths of traders and travelers leaves the survivors too terrified to continue their business, shutting down the distributive networks that make national development and often life itself possible. The terror unleashed on foreign professionals can prompt the survivors to flee and discourage newcomers from arriving, depriving the underdeveloped economic and education systems of the skilled workers they need to improve or even function. And every broken body, ever broken mind, is proof of the government's weakness and ineptitude; a humiliating failure to protect their own people that demoralises supporters and empowers dissenters. The motivated sadism of these terrorist attacks is a microcosm of the motivated sadism displayed by their Imperialist backers

But why go to all this trouble? Why not just send in the paratroopers or organise a coup to end those troublesome regimes quickly? Sometimes it's a matter of possibility. As great as they are, the powers of Imperialist nations are not unlimited. All manner of constraints (domestic unrest, international condemnation which advantages dangerous rivals, the simple financial and human costs of such operations) limit what actions are viable or desirable. This is especially significant when the targets are motivated and disciplined anti-imperialists with a base of deep-rooted popular support, the sort of regime that won't go down to a simple commando raid or bribe to the right general. But sometimes, it's not enough to merely cut down a dissenting government; you have to salt the earth and make sure nothing similar ever grows back. I'll finish with the words of an anonymous Jesuit priest, talking about Nicaragua yet in terms widely relevant enough to be published in John Saul's conclusion to A Difficult Road: The Transition to Socialism in Mozambique (1985):

In Chile the Americans made a mistake. They cut off the revolution too abruptly. They killed the revolution but, as we can see from recent developments there, they didn't kill the dream. In Nicaragua, they're trying to kill the dream

[grnherbs]

i need oscar fingering you for the first time and him just being gentle🙏

look at my face baby | op81

afab!reader, eighteen plus, mdni

thank you for your request anon! sorry it took so long to get round you

he had you laid back on his double bed, hands softly tracing over your shirt and leaving soft kisses along the corners of your lips, both of you were hot and sweaty from a prolonged make out session on the couch downstairs.

he’d picked you up, legs wrapped round his waist, head down, hidden into his shoulder as you feel yourself being carried to his room. you’d been in his room before but, something about the two of you being alone in the house, no sound, taking you to his bedroom, hot and heavy was just so intoxicating.

you look up at him as he crawls up the bed, leaning over and kissing your nose “hey sweetheart” he smiles as you blush in his direction, eyes closing, causing him to chuckle gently. you still weren’t used to the nicknames, the kisses and the love this early on in the relationship, but god did oscar love to tease.

he moves his hands down now, fluttering at your waist and leans to kiss you, softly on the lips with a shy smile still on your lips, whimpering softly into it, a giggle settling between you two at the sound.

“wanna try something with me?” he looks into your eyes with his sweet gaze, “i’ll be gentle okay?” he nods in your direction and you nod back, at a loss for words, his hands moves down, pulling your trousers down as he does. he slows at the frightened look on your face and kisses your forehead “is this okay baby?” he checks in and you nod, “y-yes oscar”.

when he has your trousers halfway down your thighs, he moves his hand back up to hook your underwear down too, slowly, as if to not frighten you at all, kindhearted and gentle as he goes, which you takes a deep shaken breath out to sooty yourself.

once your underwear had been quite literally flung across the room, he starts smoothing his hands over your thighs, warm and veiny from the innate amount of sexual tension between you, your eyes watering slightly as you usher out a “please osc..” which has him spreading your knees gently, hand dipping between them and letting out his own moan when he finds how wet you are for him.

“god… you feel so good angel, so wet for me” he clicks his tongue in his mouth, before biting his lip, one finger drawing down the slit to reach your opening, slipping it in slowly, almost unbareably. “just taking my finger so good baby, that’s it… one at a time, don’t wanna hurt my baby”

you grip his thick bicep and look up through your wet lashes at him, flustered and bucking your hips up slowly at the intrusion, feeling so full yet so empty at the same time, especially when he begins to thrust the finger in and out as a near torturously slow pace, but if you asked he would say he was simply ‘warming you up’.

you bump your hips up more again, and he places his other hand on the apex of your stomach, pushing you down lightly so you can move away. “you’re okay baby, i’ll give you more don’t worry” he leant down to kiss your forehead and you feel your heart pounding in your chest at his sweet actions. he was your boy, your sweet boy and you’d do anything for him.

he takes his finger out before submerging two in you, earning a gasp from you at this moment in time, your hand which rests of his bicep is squeezing tighter and he chuckles at this “i got you, shhh” he soothes and continues his movements, the feeling of fullness and euphoric bliss makes your head feel fuzzy and you drop it back against the pillow, a moan escaping your lips.

you see the blushed cheeks of the aussie before you, his hair messy over his forehead now, biting his lip in either concentration or to stave off just fucking you. but he wanted to treat you, wanted to be kind to you, wanted to give you pleasure before anything else. he rests his head against yours, eyes meeting your own and he smiles, warm, fingers moving deeper and at a quicker pace than before.

“you’re getting close aren’t you sweet thing?” he whispers at you and you nod, biting your own lip at this point, toes curling and you’re pulling him closer, needy for his proximity and closeness. “i love you osc, i love you” you say gently, and he looks overjoyed, fingers finding the pace and whispering back thoughts of adoration.

the feeling hits you like a freight train, you whimper out and shake under his touch, and he holds you close to him, hand which rests on your stomach coming up to hold the nape of your neck, letting you roll out your orgasm on his hand, “that’s it, did so well for me baby, so so well, i love you” he ushers to you and smiles sleepily.

“so sweet for me, doing so well”. and you close your eyes once more, head resting on his shoulder.

[harryslittlefreakk]

make me, darling 2

summary: harry takes y/n home and they continue to blur the lines between love and hate

warnings: PURE smut (oral - m and f receiving, unprotected sex, spanking, choking, overstimulation)

wordcount: 4.5k

a/n: a harry-centric piece!! i don’t think ive written this way before and it was fun <3 thank you for all the love on the first part, I appreciate it so much. enjoy!!

🫡 not proofread i can’t stomach any more smut rn

first part | masterlist | send me more prompts!

“Harry.”

“Don’t- don’t fuckin’ speak,” he groaned, holding a hand up to silence you. His brows knitted together over screwed-shut eyes, his cheeks stained pink.

He was painfully hard, and painfully aware of the likelihood of coming in his pants if you tried to argue with him again.

That glint in your eyes, the goosebumps his touch left on your skin, the anger that coursed through you before it evolved into something greater… he’d played the long game, waiting for you to buckle under the weight of your arousal. And now that you had, it was him that couldn’t hold back.

The blood was pounding in his ears, his cock throbbing, the veins pulsing like a ticking time bomb - he was so close to burying himself in you, feeling your slick around him, getting everything he’d ever wanted.

If only you’d just stop trying to talk to him.

“Harry.”

You said it louder this time, pulling his attention back to you as your hands went to his belt. The brief connection your knuckle made with his cock had his body rigid, his hands immediately pushing into your hair.

“You just don’t stop, do you?” Harry scolded, but this time his infuriating smirk had grown into a full grin, whiskey, arousal and lingering frustration mixing into something dangerously intoxicating as he stared down at you.

“I’m going to take the edge off so you can fuck me like I deserve,” you told him, a hard edge to your voice as you tugged his jeans down.

He was powerless as he sunk onto the edge of the bed, his legs giving way at just the idea of his cock in your smart mouth.

He swallowed hard, the air between you crackling like a live wire. It would be so easy for him to close the gap, to let the tension break and fuck you into total submission. But that would be giving in, letting you win, and he refused to lose to you in any way. He was going to watch you wrap those swollen lips around his girth, to fuck your mouth until it filled with his come, to leave you begging and pleading for him to do the same to your cunt.

As the cold air hit his bare cock, the late night breeze from the open window ghosting over his head, Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his pulse racing. The game you both played, the constant push and pull - it was maddening. And yet, he couldn’t deny the thrill, the way his heart was pounding in his chest, finally having got you where you both needed to be.

You press wet kisses along his length, a murmur of pure delight vibrating in your throat. But as your hand wrapped around Harry’s cock, his palm made contact with your chest, pushing you away before you even got to taste him.

“Get naked,” Harry groaned, palming at the waistband of your skirt.

You let out a sigh of frustration, ignoring his demand and reaching out for his cock. “Let me do it, Harry.”

“I want to see you.”

When you ignored him again, he grabbed a hold of your skirt with both hands, pulling until the fabric strained and tore. It fell away from your body, your eyes darkening as you stared open-mouthed at the ruins of what was your favourite skirt.

“That’s better,” Harry smirked, knowing now that the more he winds you up, the better this will be for you both. As if he’d let another man see you in that skirt anyway.

“Fucking bastard,” you muttered, pulling your top over your head in defeat. “You’re paying for a new one.”

“‘M not.” He was as stubborn as ever, prolonging the torture for the both of you as you fall dangerously close into argument territory again.

He needed to make you come. You’d be putty in his hands after your first orgasm, a trembling wreck after your second. But he couldn’t even find your glares and comments annoying anymore, not with the way your eyes glossed over as you stared hungrily at his cock.

Then without warning, you pushed yourself from Harry’s grasp, sealing your lips around his head before either of you could annoy each other further.

You let the spit gather in your mouth, your tongue pressing flat against the tip of his cock. Harry could tell from the way your eyes widened slightly that he was bigger than you’d ever expected, and it sends a shot of pure dominance through his veins. His hips bucked into your mouth of their own accord, pushing your lips open around him and allowing more of him into your throat.

You wrapped a hand around the base and steadied yourself, breathless. Your hand pushed up and down his length for a minute, your tongue working fervently around his tip.

Then you looked up at Harry, spit dribbling from the sides of your mouth, your lips swollen and wet around him. Your eyes were narrowed, sparkling with something he hadn’t seen before, but it looked like it would be dangerous for him. “Do that again,” you murmured, lips popping off of his head.

“Do what again?”

You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, your hand moving to paw at his balls. “Fuck my throat, Harry. I don’t know how I can make that clearer.”

Fuck. You didn’t need to ask him twice.

He pushed his hand into your hair, wrapping it around his fist, his cock finding its way back between your lips. He wasted no time in starting to jackhammer into your throat, your cheeks caving in around his girth as his cock hit everywhere it could reach.

The deep moans that vibrated against him turned into splutters and gags, your throat closing around Harry as his head pummelled the back of your throat, his eyes locked on your face, his hand tangled in your hair.

You were breathless, suffocated by his size as he fucked into your mouth, his hips snapping rigidly as groans and moans clawed their way out from his chest.

“Little cumslut,” Harry growled, tugging on your hair until your eyes met his. You were coming undone in front of him, your frosty exterior melting away to something more vulnerable, yet he could see the power in your eyes, the way you held his gaze as you gagged around his cock.

His thrusts became sloppier, his cock twitching at the back of your throat. You gripped onto his thighs, following his hips with your mouth, your lips and tongue and hollowed cheeks just moving and sucking and licking until his come poured into your mouth, a moan of appreciation trembling through your body.

You swallowed around Harry as he jerked and bucked into you, his head thrown back on his shoulders as he came, your mouth never ceasing until he was finally empty.

You waited for his breathing to slow before leaning back on your heels, biting down on your lower lip with a satisfied grin playing on your lips. Harry shook his head softly, pushing his hands under your armpits to pull you onto his lap, a needy groan falling from your mouth as his cock brushed your core.

His fingertip dabbed at the corner of your mouth, collecting the leftover come that hadn’t quite made it past your swollen lips, pushing it between them.

He chose to ignore how quickly his cock sprung back to life, his passion reignited by the way your tongue swirled around his fingertip as if it hadn’t just been his cock between those rosebud lips.

“I’m not gonna be so nice next time you talk back to me,” Harry whispered, his lips ghosting over your jawline, pressing rough kisses across your neck.

You tugged his head back to face yours, licking over his bottom lip with the unmistakable tingle of him on your tongue. “It doesn’t seem like you have the power you think you have,” you murmured, pushing your core onto his bulge, just enough to see his eyes darken.

So you still wanted to play games.

Harry wrapped his arms around your waist, rolling you both over until he was on top of you, one hand planted to the side of your head. The other danced over your belly and across your mound, two ringed fingers swiping through your slick.

“Seems like I do, sweetheart,” Harry smirked, his hand coming to rest on your cunt, so close to giving you what you needed and yet not close enough.

It was always going to end this way. He’d always been sure of it. The tension and the fights were a rubber band, pulling you closer and closer together, the anger and hatred morphing into something more until the band snapped and the two of you poured all that wasted energy back into each other.

What he didn’t know is whether this would be the start of something else, the first of many nights wrapped up in each other, or if this would be the one and only chance he had. So he’d made a conscious decision to savour it, to fuck you too well, to make it so that while you were sleeping with other men, you always thought of him.

He wanted to make you come. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy, to be the reason your thighs shook and your clit throbbed, but he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Harry. Do something, please,” you begged, reaching for his hand, your whine going straight to his cock. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you tight as he pinned your hand beside your head, his jaw tense.

“Why the rush?” he whispered, his groin pressing into your writhing body, trapping you between his cock and the mattress.

“You got to come already,” you pouted, trying to wriggle out from under him.

“And you’ll get to come as many times as you can.” Harry leaned closer to your face, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Or maybe not, if you carry on.”

He waited for his threat - as empty as it was - to sink in, for you to stop trying to resist him, before he pulled his hand away from yours and used it to cup your chin, his eyes trailing over your face.

There had always been sharp glares, fire burning behind your eyes, your brows knitted and your cheeks hot with rage. But now there was a plea in your eyes, desperation that replaced the flames and burned a hundred times brighter, a softness that he’d never been privy to.

He’d never noticed the scar on your cheek, the faded freckles that dotted your skin, the specks of orange against the browns of your eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he took you in, his gaze tracing over your features with a newfound reverence. You looked up at him, eyes narrowed and uncertain, your lips parted slightly. “What?”

“Fucking beautiful.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he watched as your eyes widened, your cheeks flushing a soft pink.

He felt his pulse quicken, desire unfurling in his depths like a tidal wave. His mouth moved to your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin with hunger and urgency.

“I hate you,” he whispered, his words peppered with a low growl as they vibrated against your skin. “I hate how much I want you.”

He moved to kneel between your legs, his hands moving almost of their own accord, sliding down your shoulders, then lower, tracing the curve of your waist, his touch rough, his brows furrowed as he waited to see what made you shiver, where he needed to focus to have you trembling.

His hands slid up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin mesh of your bra.

His hands pushed under you to the clasp of your bra, pulling the fabric from your body. His lips immediately found your chest, warm, wet kisses travelling over the curve of both your tits, your sternum, the peaks of your nipples. His touch was rough while his mouth was gentle, his appreciative purrs washing over your skin as he explored the peaks and dips of your upper body.

You let out a soft moan, your back arching off the mattress, something primal and explosive tearing through Harry and through all of the reasons he had to savour you. He needed to taste and touch every inch of you without wasting another second.

You let out a soft moan, your back arching off the mattress, something primal and explosive tearing through Harry and through all of the reasons he had to savour you. He needed to taste and touch every inch of you without wasting another second.

His fingers spread you open, his lips parting slightly at just the sight of you before him. You were coated in your slick, glistening under the glow of his lamp, looking fucking delicious.

His pressed his tongue flat to your cunt, his nose nudging against your clit, his lips quirking up into a smile. You were writhing already, your hands straight to his hair.

Harry pulled your leg over his shoulder, opening you up for him before swiping his tongue through your folds. You pulled his head towards your cunt, your ankle wrapping around his neck, burying his face in your slick.

He chuckled against you, your desperation not something he could ignore. “All this time…” Harry murmured, pulling away as his tongue rolled over his bottom lip. “All this time and you just needed me like this.”

His middle finger found your clit, rubbing circular motions on the nerves as you fought a losing battle against your arousal.

You were panting, your chest heaving as his tongue fucked into you, his moans reverberating through you both as he soaked up all your slick, your cunt grinding into his face. He was everywhere, his touch overwhelming you as you arched and writhed, his tongue never ceasing as it collected your wetness, licking and slurping until something in your core exploded.

Your thighs started to tremble around his head, your free hand clenching the sheets next to your body as the orgasm took hold of you, Harry’s moans shooting an extra level of pleasure through you both. He was rock hard again, in fucking heaven as you came into his mouth, his fingers and his tongue working nonstop to pull you through your high.

Only they didn’t stop. He couldn’t pull himself away from you after seeing how your body reacted to him.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to sit up in front of him, his face still nestled between your thighs.

His fingers replaced his tongue, one, then two, then three, until they were knuckle-deep in your slick, fucking into you until the thighs that had barely finished trembling begun to shake once more.

His cock was, once again, a ticking time bomb, throbbing and jerking against the cotton of the duvet as he watched his knuckles disappear into you - the same fingers that only ever wore elaborate rings, now sheathed inside of your sopping cunt.

“Harry, please,” you whimpered, your fingers tight in his curls. Desperation laced your words, the not-so subtle edge of restraint and need pulling Harry’s gaze away from your entrance and up to your eyes. Your cheeks flushed with desire, your lips chewed up and swollen. He let his eyes linger for just long enough to remember that face, to have something to hold onto when you inevitably fought again. He’d done that to you.

“What do you need?”

“I need to come, Harry, fuck,” you told him, practically demanding, your free hand grabbing a hold of his face and keeping it fixed on yours. “Please.”

And with one tiny movement, a barely noticeable curl of his fingers inside of you, he found your sweet spot, the one he’d known he would find, and you came apart.

He fought against your grip, desperate to get his mouth on you so that you could come onto his tongue again. But you were unrelenting, the eye contact never breaking even as he watched your vision blur. Your nails cut into his cheeks, his mouth falling open in the little space it had as you rolled your hips against his hand, his name mixing with the string of expletives that cut through your moans.

Harry could feel the smirk on his lips when you came around, your eyes locking back onto his with a subtle scowl. You hated him being the one to do this to you, he could tell. He could see your inner turmoil - the part of you that wanted this to be a one time thing, a way to get it out of your system, at war with the part of you that had realised that this isn’t the kind of sex you only allow yourself once.

He sat down on the sliver of bed between your thighs, pulling you onto his lap as your scowl deepened. The brush of his cock against your slick was maddening, but he could tell that you wanted to say something. Something that got in the way of every instinct he had, every voice in his head willing him to buck his hips into your slick.

Your anger had returned in the wake of your high, and the same frustration that he’d usually feed upon was now just a source of pure fucking irritation for him.

“What?”

“What the fuck are we doing?” your voice was as clipped as it could be with your arousal still dripping off the ends of your words.

"I dont know, why would I know?” Harry snapped, his hands loose around your waist.

“You did this! You kissed me, you wanted me.”

He reached up to push your hair from your face, your hand immediately swatting it away. “I still want you,” he murmured, locking his fingers around your wrist.

“And what happens next? You sleep with me, nothing changes and we carry on fighting?”

Harry’s gaze was stuck on your tits as you spoke, something he’d try to feel bad about later but he was doubtful that would happen. “No.” He replied after a beat, his eyes tracing the curves of your body until they landed on your face. “‘M gonna fuck you, if you’ll let me, and then I will keep fucking you, over and over, any time you'll let me, for as long as you’ll let me.”

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingertips starting to dig into the soft skin at the top of your hips.

You shook your head, pulling away from his grasp. “We hate eachother, Harry, we've always hated each other.”

“That’s a load of shit and you know it." His smug smirk was back, and he knew it. But he didn’t want to talk about feelings and after and what could happen and what tomorrow would bring. He was hard, and pissed off, and he wanted to fuck you. To let his cock do the talking and show you how he felt.

“Dont tell me-”

“If I hated you,” Harry started, cutting you off in the middle of whatever bullshit you were about to say, his hand moving around to the curre of your ass. “Then why would I lay in bed at night trying to figure out why the fuck I can't get you out of my head?”

“You’re impossible,” you hissed, leaning a little closer, your hands twitching with the urge to shove him, to do something to release the frustration. But Harry kept his grip firm, his eyes flashing.

“And you’re infuriating,” he growled, his voice rough. “Fucking infuriating.”

The space between you disappeared in an instant, and before he could think, before he could even register what was happening, your mouth was on Harry’s, crashing into his with a force that knocked the breath out of him. It was wild, desperate, filled with all the pent-up anger and frustration that had built between you. Your first kiss since he bought you home.

You gasped against his lips, your hands flying up to his chest, intending to push him away, but instead, your fingers gripped onto his shoulders, anchoring yourself on his thighs.

Harry’s hands were both on your ass, gripping you so tightly he knew you’d feel it later, but neither of you seemed to care. You kissed him back with equal force, biting at his lip, a mixture of anger and desire flooding you both, meeting in your mouths, a clash of wills that neither of you were willing to lose.

“Why do you always do this to me?” you panted, breaking the kiss for a moment, your forehead pressing against his as you caught your breath. “Why can’t I—”

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, his voice rough, his breath hot. His hands moved up and down your back, pulling you impossibly closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. “I don’t fucking know.”

Then he was kissing you again, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips. His head spun, his heart pounding in his chest as you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging roughly in frustration. A low growl in your throat as though you wanted to hurt him, to punish him for you want him so badly when you should just fucking hate him.

Harry groaned against your lips, his hands sliding down to your thighs, pushing you down against his cock until you caught his drift, rolling your hips over his length until you were panting into each others mouths, hands roaming and raking across each other’s skin.

“Fuck me, just fuck me,” you whispered against his lips, your head rolling back on your shoulders as you finally gave in to him.

He lifted you up for a second, hissing at the loss of your touch to his cock as he lined up his head with your entrance. “My wallet,” he rasped, his head falling forwards. He couldn’t handle another obstacle in the way of fucking you. His cock was angrily hard, pulsating at your entrance as he waited for you to move. “Fuck, Harry. Just pull out,” you panted, tugging on the curls at the nape of his neck.

Just fucking pull out. That was his final straw. He pushed into you, his dominant hand trailing up your body until it came to rest at your neck, gripping you tightly as he bottomed out in one fucking thrust.

“So fucking dirty,” Harry whispered, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as his hand tensed around your throat, his self-restraint out the window. Your walls pulsated around his girth, your slick warm and welcoming, your juices mingling at the base of his cock.

“You can't handle it?” you teased, your voice strained as his thumb pushed against your windpipe.

Harry felt his eyes darken, his jaw tensing as the familiar cloud of pure, unbridled heat moved over him. “You can't handle it,” he rasped, pulling out of you before slamming back in, his thrust drawing a deep cry from the depths of your core.

It was the closest he’d get to heaven, he was sure of it. The chorus of slapping skin as he jackhammered into you, the pants and moans punctuating each thrust spurred you both on, your pleasure growing.

Harry ducked his head, his mouth finding your pebbled nipple, his tongue flicking over the bud, his teeth scraping the soft skin as the harshness of his thrusts jolted your body up and down.

Your hand wrapped around his, pushing it tighter around your neck. “I can take it, Harry. Don’t hold back.”

He paused when your words reached his ears, his mouth hanging open around the peak of your nipple. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, his fingertips pressing tighter into your throat, your pulse strong against his palm.

He was mildly aware of how arrogant he sounded, but not in the headspace to give a shit. His arrogance was, after all, what had gotten you into his bed in the first place.

He shifted you on his lap, just enough for his thrusts to go deeper, his cock filling every inch of you.

You squirmed on top of him, the new angle just right for his groin to brush your clit with every movement either of you made. Harry’s mouth trailed across your sternum, his teeth clamping down around your other nipple, your tits bouncing against his face as he fucked into you. His free hand moved to splay across your ass, guiding your movements faster and faster until your walls started to tense around him.

Your eyes were clouded over when he peered up at you, eyelids heavy with the weight of an impending third orgasm. You threw your head back, your body arching into Harry’s chest as your cunt fluttered around his thrusts, his tip throbbing as you held him in a vice. The sound that came out of you was almost animalistic, a strangled cry of something that sounded vaguely like his name. Music to his fucking ears.

He let your high wash over you, barely allowing you the time to come back down to Earth before his hand landed a loud smack on the curve of your ass, the noise echoing around the room, filling the space that wasn’t taken up by moans and growls.

He flipped you suddenly, needing to feel you from a new angle, an easier way to pull out of you as his own orgasm crept up on him.

“Taking me so well, princess. So responsive,” he rasped, pulling your legs onto his shoulders so that he could fuck you harder, deeper.

He pulled his hand away from your throat, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the redness that he knew would bruise. A beautiful, purple hand-shaped mark that no one would know was his, but would let everyone know that you were being fucked the way you deserved.

His thrusts were getting sloppy, his resolve ebbing as you stared up at him open-mouthed, your eyes dark.

“Come, Harry. Come for me,” you whispered, your lips curling into a devilish smirk. He pulled out of you, cursing instantly at the loss of contact with your cunt, pumping his cock until his orgasm shot through his core, his cock jerking against his fist.

He exploded, ribbons of come spurting onto your front, pooling immediately in your cleavage and belly button. His breathing was hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, watching the last drops splash against your skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, running a hand through his curls, well and truly spent. “Fuck.”

You flashed him a cheeky grin, swiping a finger through his come and slipping it past your lips, moaning appreciatively.

“We are definitely doing that again.”

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[aeskairo]

We need to take a moment to appreciate the details of this incredible scene.

So Ogata looks surprised and terrified when Usami grabs his arm.

Usami flips him and he lands on his back.

He rolls over on his side and moans.

You'd think he's moaning in pain, but he's not.

He's intentionally doing it to distract Usami from the fact that he's taking the cartridge into his mouth.

See the cartridge?

In the next panel he has the cartridge inside his mouth already and begins crawling towards his rifle.

He continues to moan, which prompts Usami to stand there and gloat at his handiwork.

Usami is clearly enjoying seeing him like this, saying " What's the matter?! Get up!"

Ogata crawls right up to his rifle.

He starts to slide the cartridge out of his mouth, but as you can see from the flat end, the cartridge is backwards.

Ogata KNOWS Usami is a psychopath and gets turned on by torturing his victims.

By moaning and crawling pathetically towards his rifle, he gave Usami an erection.

Usami is really getting off to this and wants more.

He takes a pack of cartridges and throws it on the ground in front of Ogata, so he can prolong this delicious pathetic display.

He starts to really get into it and degrade and verbally abuse Ogata, calling him "son of a whore".

This gives Ogata the time to use his tongue to turn the cartridge around so that it's facing the right direction to be loaded into the gun.

Ogata gets the cartridge into the right position and slides it in.

Having gotten past the foreplay, Usami take the bayonet and goes for....penetration.

It's too late.

Ogata may be terrible at hand-hand combat but he's a quick thinker. The moment he was flipped over on the ground, he wasted no time and put his plan into action.

Ogata KNOWS Usami.

He intentionally put on a display that he knows will appeal to Usami to buy time and give himself the upper hand.

Ogata is so damn awesome.

Thank you @goldenkamuyhunting for posting the scans

[sexlapis]

࿔ read me to sleep…

ᰋ nanami kento x gn!reader

ns4w, fluff, dirty talk no sex, very suggestive, finger sucking, petnames: baby, sweet thing, darling. soft nanami, nanami babies reader, nanami reading to reader, talks about cocks and holes 🤷‍♀️, d/s dynamics

. synopsis: after a long week, nanami helps you to relax.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc: 1.1k

a/n: me writing a fanfic? who would’ve thought?? extract is from ‘the professor’ by charlotte brontê. i enjoyed it but apparently it’s not very well liked. anyway, here’s me being very normal about nanami.

masterlists

*

your cheek rests on the cool, ivory porcelain of the bathtub. warm water envelopes your body, coming all the way up to your chest which is petaled with tufts of scented bubbles. the orange gleam of the sunset casts a gentle, easy light over the bathroom, colouring the bath water and the supple skin of your body.

it’s quiet. the only sounds being emitted come from the soft ripples of the water when you move and your husband’s low, soft speaking. your eyes droop.

“are you even listening?”

nanami sits on a wooden chair right in front of the bathtub. on long days like this, most of the time on a friday, you both just need to wind down, relax, unravel the knots curled up in your bones, ease the ache inside your head and erase the never ending thoughts in your mind.

‘…yet been my experience of life, I had once had the opportunity of contemplating, near at hand, an example of the results produced by a course of interesting and romantic domestic treachery. No golden halo of fiction was about this example, I saw it bare and real, and it was very loathsome. I saw a mind degraded by the practice of mean subterfuge, by the habit of perfidious deception, and a body depraved by the infectious influence of the vice-polluted soul. I had suffered much from the forced and prolonged view of this spectacle; those sufferings I did not now regret, for their simple recollection acted as a most wholesome antidote to temptation. They had inscribed on my reason the conviction that unlawful pleasure, trenching on another's rights, is delusive and envenomed pleasure; its hollowness disappoints at the time, its poison cruelly tortures afterwards, its effects deprave forever.’

he wears his white, button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his suit jacket long gone, his tie loose and dangling down, and dark slacks sit on his legs very nicely. and, your favourite thing of all, he wears his reading glasses, the pair that he only wears around you.

“yeah, yeah ‘m listening. just tired.”

you have, in fact, not been listening that much.

if you weren’t slowly dozing off to sleep to the smooth timbre of his voice, you were blatantly admiring the cerulean veins that travelled up the pale expanse of his forearm. and if not that, you watched with half-lidded eyes how the tendons of his large hands moved when he turned a page, or the sight of the pink pillows of his lips in motion, or the prominence of his adam’s apple or-

“you really aren’t listening, are you?”

this time, you had the sense to feel a little embarrassed, feel some heat rise on your face. “uhhhhhhh…”

nanami tilts his head, definitely not looking at your chest, “what is going on in that little head of yours?”

“what-nothing! i just, i-,” you sigh, licking your lips, unabashedly staring at the bulge in his slacks “you just look sexy.”

he chuckles, his eyes crinkled and the sound rumbling through his chest. nanami moves his chair forward, closer to where you rest your head, and leans down slightly.

“i don’t think it’s just that,” he utters. nanami then raises his hand to your sweet, languorous face, coated with droplets of water, your wet eyelashes framing the tender yet desiring gaze of eyes. his heart beats a little faster.

he cups your cheeks with one big hand, trailing his index and middle finger to your plush lips, asking for an opening. you do so gladly, moaning quietly when his thick, rough fingers sit and press on your tongue, saliva seeping around his fingers. “i think my little darling just wants my cock inside of that sloppy little hole. isn’t that right?”

his brash words and his fingers, they are inching further and further towards your throat, make your face burn and a dull, throbbing pit of want curl up where you want him the most.

you blink drowsily, almost half asleep at this point, nibbling on his fingers in your mouth, giving them one long lick. “yessss…yes i want it inside of me so much.”

“oh, baby,” nanami coos, “i’m only teasing you. i know you’re tired…”

you whine. it’s muffled over his fingers, which you continue to suck on softly. his eyes darken.

“don’t tempt me,” nanami groans, briefly relishing in the feeling of your mouth suctioned over his fingers, “you know i can't resist that little mouth of yours...”

his fingers leave your sighing mouth, now glistening and wet, connected by a silky line of gossamer to your lips.

nanami hums, pleased by the debauched, satisfied expression plastered on your face. he swipes your lips with your own spit, making them gleam in the shine of the sunset. such actions make you picture his taut, large length, how uses it to generously rub his expense all over your lips and cheeks, using and painting your face like his secret, erotic canvas.

unfortunately for you, your fatigue outweighs your lustful cravings. you let your eyes fall shut. a hand finds itself on top of your head, caressing there softly. a purr leaves your throat. nanami wills himself to ignore his very obvious desire for at this moment.

“i think it’s someone’s bedtime.”

nanami pats his thighs and stands to get your towel. you pout at the loss of stimulation on your head, but it’s quickly wiped away when nanami unplugs the bath, helps you out of it with his hand in yours, and wraps the towel around your damp body like a cocoon.

you waddle over to you and nanami’s shared bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. you were going to sleep so well tonight.

“nanami.” you whisper to him as he takes off his watch. “nanami, come here. read the rest of the chapter, please.”

“darling, you’re about to fall asleep.”

“yeah but i want you to read me to sleep.”

nanami huffs, a small smile on his face. the bed dios where he sits down next to your head, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap, snuggling comfortably. his hand finds your head to caress one again, making you chirp with glee.

“alright. just this one chapter and that’s it.”

you let him read to you.

at first you listen, you really do, but after a few minutes his words turn into white noise, the low-tone of his voice rumbles through you, the warmth of his lap acts as a pillow and the final blow is when he decides to draw circles over your temple with his thumb.

before you know it, you’re gradually drifting off to sleep, into a serene dreamland, forgetting about all the stress you experienced today.

nanami closes the book and carefully manoeuvres you from his lap and onto the bed properly. he knows you’ll probably wake up shortly, considering you’re still just in your towel, but for now, he savours this moments and how endearing you look, curled up and snoring in your fluffy towel.

“sweet thing…” he kisses your forehead, resting his lips there fore a moment, “my sweet, little thing…”

*

…♡

[erinfern0]

intoxicated.

simon "ghost" riley x afab!virgin!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, afab anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: soft simon and his darling spending a cute evening together on discovering your body, slowly falling more in love with being intimate.

warnings: soft simon obsession, two cuties in love, marks, kissing, fingering, etc.

a/n: based on this request! it's longer than i expected, but i hope you don't mind.

Simon was obsessed with you, smitten, enamored. Watching you lie there, completely bare, allowing him to get to know your body in such a different way.

Before, it was just light touches and prolonged make-out sessions. He adored the way you slowly unraveled in front of him, telling him exactly what you needed. As much as he loved your guidance, he was intoxicated with teasing you with it.

“Where, baby?” his voice was hoarse with arousal as you toyed with the hem of your t-shirt. Simon's fingers made tiny shapes all over your knees and thighs as he lay beside you on the bed, his arm resting under your head to have you even closer.

You mewled, “Simon…” as he pulled his hand away, seeing your thighs shaking in a silent beg for him to get closer to your already soaked, but clothed cunt.

For anyone else, it would be embarrassing how easily wet you get from those simple touches and his body right beside you, but with Simon, everything felt so good, so comfortable, you never felt that way.

The only thing except for the arousal that you felt was pure torture, laying down on your shared bed, watching him work you relaxed by teasing some of the most sensitive areas without touching the most important one.

“Shh, 's okay, love.” he cooed into your ear, moving his hand lower. He didn't even have to put any pressure for you to spread your legs open, draping one of them over his lap. “Where?”

Simon chuckled wholeheartedly, kissing your temple to praise you silently as he grabbed a handful of your inner thigh, just holding the soft plush of your skin in his palm.

Your mind was so hazed, almost dizzy, as you closed your eyes, feeling his nose draw familiar shapes on your cheek. You couldn't make up a coherent sentence in your head, so you just wrapped your much softer fingers around his wrist, pulling him toward your center.

As soon as his warm palm rested on your slicked panties, putting barely any pressure, allowing you to gasp hazily from his warmth. “There.” you choked out, a playful smirk on your lips as you opened your eyes again.

Simon's pupils dilated, catching your gaze. Dark browns now looking almost perfectly black, staring at you with so much affection it almost made you cum right there, like this.

“Cheeky little minx.” he groaned, his fingers gently playing with your folds over the cotton of your underwear. His voice made you gasp again, fingers tightening their grip on his wrist in an attempt to make his moves faster.

Simon just hummed into your hair, nuzzling his face into it as he moved your panties aside, collecting your arousal on his fingertips to spread it all over your swollen, twitching, aching clit.

Your hips started grinding against the sheets as if they had a mind of their own, adding to the pleasure coiling in your lower stomach. That's when you felt his lips leaving kisses in your hair and moving lower, to place some more on your neck.

The stubble on his face and the way it rubbed into you made you giggle, your free hand playing with his hair. Your actions, especially the way you tugged on his ends, made him groan into your exposed collarbones as he left marks on them.

“You're drivin' me wild.” he muttered while pulling his stiffened arm from under your head to kneel right between your thighs. His hair was a true mess, shaped as you played with it before, and his cheeks were flushed.

Towering over you, Simon leaned down to catch your lips, erasing the playful smile you had. The kisses felt hungry and sloppy as he swallowed every single one of the little moans that left you when he added another finger to soothe tight circles over your clit.

Your legs tightened their hold on his hips when you felt his bulge, pressing into your inner thigh. As your hand reached down to tug on his belt, Simon moaned into your mouth from how much you were tempting him.

His fingers slipped down your slit to circle your entrance. You pulled back from the kiss, cupping Simon's face to see his eyelids fluttering, brows furrowing in confusion.

Such a simple tease made him crave more of you, lips quickly following yours, but you turned your head with a chuckle. That little laugh of yours caused shivers to run down his spine, his head nuzzling in the valley of your breasts with a groan.

He didn't let your actions go unnoticed, his finger slowly easing its' way into your slick entrance, caging him inside with the greedy clench he loved so much. The soft, subtle wave of his fingertip pushing against your g-spot.

His lips latched onto your nipple, sucking at teasing it by grazing his teeth over it before adding another finger. You threw your head back with a sharp inhale.

Simon's head instantly jerked up to see if you were all right. His worry made you yelp in frustration as he stopped moving his fingers in and out of you. “You 'kay there, love?” he rasped, hiking up to make eye contact with you.

Grinding your hips, you nodded your head, catching your breath right before he moved his fingers again. His thighs were tensing underneath yours, trying his hardest not to grind too much against you. This was all about you.

Watching you trust him so much, lying bare and gasping so cutely every time he hit that sweet little spot that made you see stars. You moaned his name, tugging on his hair as you came.

Your choked gasps, tiny sobs and twitches of your thighs, and that tight fucking clench made him drunk, intoxicated with love and admiration towards you. His kisses on your tits turned into light pecks and nibs over your smooth, sweat-covered skin as he pulled his hand away not to overstimulate you too much.

Licking your slick from his digits, Simon slowly soothed your tired thighs with his palm, chuckling as he wiped your arousal away with his wrist. You exhaled deeply, pulling him in by his shirt to connect your lips again, tasting yourself off his tongue.

Your hands traveled under his shirt, teasing the toned muscles under your fingertips as he rested on top of you, supporting his body weight on his forearms.

It was soft, quiet, and warm, the way he held you, embracing you with not only his body on top of yours, but also his calming scent made you feel drowsy. His soft hums against your chest helped you sync your breathing with his, playing with his hair again.

It was perfect this way. Taking things slow and gentle, with someone you truly loved. You didn't need words to know just how much you two were intoxicated with each other. Falling asleep in each other's arms after such a wonderful time spent together was always the best way to end the day.

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[mymegumi]

GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library—all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.”

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never��� pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Elite Serial Killer (3)

Part 1 + 2

Of course, his family congratulates him, offering to just abduct you then

But he’s much more sadistic in the way he decides to claim you

It’s not entirely just to see you make faces he’s never seen

Part of this prolonged delivery is meant to watch you up close

By having you in his study group he finally gets to watch you in public without the distance his masked security team could report

Without encroaching ‘too much’ on your private space that’s only for him

He can also give you the first-hand experience of what he goes through

It’s important you know what his world is like

As well as how some of these monsters don’t deserve your kindness

It irked him to see you come with peace offerings to the emotional nut job

He knew her smiles and confiding in you was all a guise

He just hoped she’d save it until the hunt

But despite what you might believe he doesn’t want you to die

He does put a tracker on you  and he sends a covert servant of his to trail you

In his defense, he didn’t want you to feel left out

Because of the vengeful group he had amassed had he shown too much favoritism they surely would have attacked you by now

But you made it 

with some minor scratches and scrapes sure

But you made it

And that’s all he could want 

The cherry on top of it all is that ‘Piggie’ had survived the initial bullet from the shotgun

So he makes a point to save her for later

Experimenting with some of the new ‘gifts’ he’s been given from a manufacturer of military weapons

When he’s not torturing her playing

He’s bathing in the afterglow of his new life with you

Explaining his twisted version of events to you

he becomes your hero

Dressing you in the finest silks while he pretends it’s his sorry task to gather victims for his family’s vicious hunt

Providing you with a fake chunky folder filled with their crimes 

And making his family out to be the bad guys helps in gaining your trust

Oh how he loves it

Oh how he loves you

The way you praise him for standing his ground on a decision that was already made

Or how he takes care of the distant family of one of the victims and you dote on him

He doesn’t want you to find out 

At least not now

He makes up some other bogeyman more likely his family who could honestly care less

Saying that he needs to put a ring on your finger in order to save your life

tie the knot and give him all you can offer 

If not I’m sure whatever friends or family who are looking for you would love to play a certain game at the vacation mansion

“Come my prize! I want to share my world with you! “

Let him show you all manner of things you don’t have to lift a single finger for 

“Now that I have you, I’m going to spoil you beyond your wildest dreams.”

[gamblersdoll]

omg bby can you please do sanemi or guts with a cum countdown but they’re being really mean and prolonging it pls pls plssss ily 🩷

sanemi having a cum countdown

“gunna fuckin’ cum, shit.” he snarls, teeth barred and drool dribbling onto your stomach. “ten..”

you moan, his wrists resting but digging into your hips while he pounds away at your sacred muscle. “sanemi— baby please dont!” you moan , trying to wiggle your hips to bring his orgasm faster. but, to a failed attempt.

“nine..” he goes down, eyes scrunching up and focusing on that spot that could easily knot both of you. “eight..”

this was hell, him only counting down from ten to zero was torture. “seven..”

your mind starts to go numb, excitement starts to build and your pussy clenches down on his length. groans erupts from his throat, his thrusts getting sloppier from the sensation of your walls gripping him.

“six–hah..” his pupils dilate, primal instincts kicking in and tongue lolling out. he forgets his count, snapping back to reality and snickering. “ten..”

you open your own eyes, disappointed and needy. “wha- no!” you moan out, pounding on his chest from the disapproval. “please no— need it please!”

“needy little shit.” he laughs, then being cut off from a sigh of satisfaction. “nine..”

guts cum countdown

this time it was different, you being a little shit around him and teasing him got you nowhere other than underneath his larger body. you were completely at his mercy, his lips kissing the rim of your earlobes. “five..” he whispers, kissing your neck.

you scratch his back, red lines raising up from the abrasion and his skin being a bit brighter. you babbled incoherent words and he paid them no mind.

“four..” he whispers again, hips staying linear and standard. he was pissed, none the less. “do you deserve my seed, beautiful whore?” he asks, his bicep laying across your collarbone from previously having you in a arm lock.

you try to speak, but his hips snapped mean again and cut you off with a moan. “i do!—“

“i dont think so..” he disapproves, smiling only a little bit and kissing at the hidden part of your neck. “lets start from the beginning.. five..”

“please! im— sorry—!” you choke out, tears rolling over heated cheeks from the repercussions.

“take it.”

[metalobrukht]

These are the numbers of recorded cases of torture committed by the russian military in Ukraine:

More than 3,800 civilians and 2,200 prisoners of war were recognized as victims of torture.

More than 160 torture chambers, with 44 in Chernihiv Oblast, 25 in Kharkiv Oblast and 18 in Zaporizhia Oblast.

48% of those tortured never openly expressed their disagreement with the invasion, which is irrelevant, because occupiers are identifying “suspicious” civilians by such markers as being unshaved or not having russian citizenship.

Among the most common types of physical torture are:

electroshock (63% of respondents), lasting 20–30 minutes;

severe, prolonged beating (79%);

deprivation of basic needs (73%). Overcrowded cells, lack of sleeping space and fresh air, extreme temperatures and forced nudity, no sufficient food and water, unsanitary conditions, none or limited access to toilets, no medical care.

Source

A short article on a similar topic in English

This is a deliberate, well-documented extermination of everything not just Ukrainian, but that which once stood next to Ukrainian and no longer even smells of it.

[lou-struck]

Sweet Motivation

Diavolo x reader, Barbatos x reader

W.C. 1.3k

~ After being confined to his studies to work through his mountain of paperwork, Diavolo is in dire need of a distraction that only you can provide.

'Even a prince must reap what he sows.'

This lesson was one of the first Diavolo learned from his father when he began the lessons that would prepare him to one day rule the Devildom, and he has really taken it to heart. He understands that in order for him to be the kind of ruler he wants to be, he must go the extra mile and hold himself accountable in all he does.

But now, that lesson is sounding more and more like torture as the usually smiling demon is cooped up in his stifling study, hunched over a speech he will be giving to honor the 1,000th anniversary of the Devildom artwork orchestra. 

A speech he should've written ages ago but forgot about... 

Barbatos, sensing the urgency of the situation, had kindly taken it upon himself to ensure his master was able to work in a distraction-free environment. He excused the Little D's from their duties for today and has even placed an enchantment on the door so that only he and Lucifer may enter in order to prevent the Prince from getting off track.

Now half-finished and thoroughly bored with his speech, Diavolo places his hand on his chin and lets out a prolonged, very dramatic sigh. With his DDD confiscated and his office door enchanted, he has no way of messaging you, even though he had promised his trusty Butler that simply getting to message you would be wonderful motivation. 

Apparently, he is no longer the cute little demon prince he once was because his big eyes and soft pout had no sway on Barbatos whatsoever. 

Reluctantly, he flicks his golden eyes back to the parchment in front of him, noting the slight change in color the ink has in its varying states of dryness. 

Is watching ink dry truly the only source of entertainment he has.

He fiddles with the quill in his hand when his sharp hearing detects a soft rapping sound coming from his glass balcony doors. Thinking it may be a confused bird trying to peck through the glass, he turns his head and nearly has a heart attack when he sees you standing on his eighth-story balcony with a big grin and a basket. 

~

Maybe breaking into the Demon King's castle by way of rose trellis wasn't the smartest idea you have had since coming to the devildom, but the look of bewilderment on Diavolo's face made the life-threatening climb worth it. 

Not to mention, you have found and exploited a very real security risk for the Palace. If a human such as yourself was able to infiltrate its walls without magic, Diavolo may want to do something about it.

The Prince springs from his seat and strides across the room as he gets closer, your tired breath fogging the glass window before he flings open the French doors.

"MC? What? How did you get up here?" he asks, golden eyes scanning your form, widening when they find a scrape on your leg you got during your infiltration. 

"I uhh…climbed. Up the rose trellis." you gesture back to the plants behind you, giving him the sweetest smile you can. "I heard from Lucifer that Barbatos had put you on house arrest, and I wanted to see you and bring you a pick me up. Are you upset with me?"

Any lecture you were about to get gets lost on his tongue when he looks at your hopeful expression. He laughs and pulls you into his strong embrace. "I could never be upset with you, my Love, even if you do have a tendency to put others before your well-being. Did you know that I was missing you?"

"I was hopeful," you smile, holding out the basket for him to take. The Prince inhales deeply, smiling as he opens the basket, revealing the freshly baked rolled mushroom cigar cookies you have brought him. 

"You made these for me?" he asks; you nod up at him. His eyes shine with affection as he places the basket on his desk to give you his full attention. "Thank you so much for such a thoughtful gesture. I promise you these cookies will not go uneaten."

"Good, you have been working so hard you deserve a treat or two." you smile, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he looks down at you hungrily. 

"Then will you be my first?" he asks, your eyes falling from his entrancing eyes to his lips. You nod as he leans down, closing the space between you two, and you shout your eyes, ready to get lost in the wonder that is Diavolo. 

Your bodies are only a credit cards width away when the doors to the office burst open, sending a startled chill down your spine. 

Barbatos stands in the doorway, his smile too large as he stares you down. "Well now, Young Master, it looks like we have a guest," the Butler says, "MC, what a surprise. I didn't realize that you were coming over. Next time, please consider using the front door."

A nervous heat comes to your cheeks, and you nervously look between the Prince and the Butler. "Oh it wasn't planned, just thought I would pop in."

"I see," he muses, spotting the basket on the desk. "And you brought cookies; how delightful."

He takes the basket off of the desk and gingerly picks up a treat with his gloved hand. Raising one to his lips, he takes a bite of the cookie, his eyes never leaving your own. "My, these are delicious. Did you try a new recipe?"

"I did," you say brightly. "I thought Diavolo may want some, and they taste the best when they are fresh like this."

"While that is true, the young master has fallen behind on his work and will have to wait to indulge until he finishes," Barbatos explains, giving you a soft smile. "You make it very difficult to say no to you, Mc, but I'm afraid I have to insist we leave the young master alone for a while."

"I appreciate all of your assistance, Barbatos," Diavolo frowns, clearing his throat. "But Mc has come all this way; it would be rude if we were to just send them on their way now."

There is a mischievous glint of mischief in the Butler's eyes as he pulls his green eyes from you to his master, "I couldn't agree more, young master, which is why I do not intend on wasting Mc's visit. Until you finish with your speech I shall have the pleasure of indulging in their company and keeping their gift safe." Barbatos cups your chin gently, "You don't mind, do you, Mc?" 

The way he looks at you makes you weak in the knees and you find yourself nodding along to his request. 

"T-that would be nice," you say, your skin heating up as he gently places a hand on your lower back and escorts you away from Diavolo. The Prince's eyes go wide, and he opens his mouth to protest but knows deep down that Barbatos is right; he should've finished that speech ages ago.

"Wonderful, then how about you and I head down for a warm cup of tea, and I can take care of that little scrape you have on your leg." he smiles, a look of victory on his face as he passes Diavolo, knowing that the time he will have with you is precious. 

After all, there is no way Diavolo would want to waste any more time cooped up in his office when it means he is missing your visit.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @i-need-to-go-like-mangogo @starbby @sarah22447 @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf  @ourfinalisation @isaacdaknight @qardasngan @atigerandabear @anjodedesgostoeerros