#the amount of hip you need to do something like that

[flipthepaige]

driver, roll up the partition, please!

includes. SMUT 18+, paige bueckers x fem! reader. public setting still somewhat private, oral, drunk and nasty, little bit of sub paige, praise and begging, grinding, makeup smudging, just all over each other…

about. after your girlfriend gets drafted number one overall, neither of you have the patience to wait until the afterparty. surely the driver won’t mind if paige celebrates a little early… right?

ju speaks. incase you didn’t know, i am @ohbueckers :) mama had to make a whole new blog, but she’s back! this is a bit of filth but i haven’t wrote any good smut in so long so i poured it all out here lol. p gets drafted in less than a month, let’s cope the right way, amen!

“Driver, roll up the partition, please!”

She says it all politely, like her lips aren’t as red as a cherry and swollen, like your hands haven’t untucked and found their way up under her dress shirt, nails scraping over the ridges of her abs, like she hasn’t been grinding against you for the last two blocks, all while tasting like champagne and every bad decision you were always going to make tonight. Your leg is hiked up over her lap, and she’s been kissing you like she doesn’t give a damn that the limo is still moving, that you’re supposed to be on your way to the afterparty, that there’s a whole world outside this car waiting to celebrate her—number one overall, finally Dallas’ rookie.

The second she stood up, walked across that stage, and held up that jersey, she was already thinking about getting back to you. And when she did, when she came striding over, still grinning like a kid on Christmas, the most anticipated person in the room but still just your girl, she grabbed you like she needed proof this was real.

Her arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like she was scared someone might try to take you from her. You smiled up at her, and expressed how proud you were, of course. Her lips brushed your forehead, and she made sure you heard the six words that followed, whispering into your hair, “couldn’t have done it without you.���

This time, your mouth is on her neck before she even finishes her sentence, nipping and sucking at her skin, breathing in her Valentino like you can pick apart every ingredient in it. Too eager for manners, and way too far gone to care, you don’t even hear the driver’s muttered response, not even the hum of the partition sliding up and clicking into place. No more audience. No more distractions. Just you and her. Atleast for a couple more miles.

And Paige? Back like she never left, like she needed that barrier up before she could really lose herself in you. “Ain’t even gon’ take ya time with it?” she teases, smiling as her hands slide down, find the swell of your ass, squeeze like she’s been dying to do it all night. “Fuck, y’so impatient,” she mutters, tilting her head back just enough to let you work, and when you bite down just right, she shivers, the pads of her fingers tightening against your shoulder for some sense of stability.

“Mhm?” You grin against her throat, licking over the marks you just left. “You wanna do something about it?”

Paige groans, large hands already pushing the fabric of your dress up over your hips. The amount of need in her movements is overwhelming, because she’s been too good the entire night. She’s been sitting pretty at that table, shaking hands, doing interviews, feeling your eyes on her and knowing she couldn’t do shit about it. Not yet.

And now she’s got you all to herself.

Paige never does anything halfway, and that includes kissing you like she’s trying to ruin you. Your tongues move all sloppy, the sounds even nastier than the kiss, and you swear you hear the music get louder, vibrating against every corner of the vehicle, the driver clearly trying to drown out the obscene sounds of Paige Bueckers losing it in the backseat. But fuck, you’re not quiet either.

You let two of her fingers push your panties to the side, gasping as they run through your slick. You grip onto her tighter as Paige hoists you fully into her lap, straddling her leg as she whispers filth into your ear.

Big hands, rough from years of handles, crossovers, midrange shots that got her here, but gentle where they need to be—slipping between your thighs, spreading you open like she already knows what she’s gonna find.

Her fingers are slipping through the mess you’ve already made for her, slow at first, just to get you going, because she knows how much you want it, because she likes making you wait. But then you whimper, and it hypnotizes her to do exactly what you wanted her to do.

Paige is fast, but she’s precise despite being intoxicated, two fingers sinking inside you like your pussy was made for her. Your breath catches, body jerking forward, head tipping back against the seat, but she keeps you secure, pressing down on your stomach. “That’s it,” she urges, free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for her. “Lemme hear it, baby.”

“Mfmph, there.” Your fingers wrap around her wrist while hers curl just right, pressing against that spot that has your thighs shaking, your back arching from her chest. The blonde watches you intently, her pupils blown, lips slick and kiss swollen, owning every reaction like it’s another trophy for her collection. “Right there, P” you drag out.

The music gets louder, and you can’t even make out the lyrics, just the beat of something that never falls low. You’re sure you’d have some remorse for the driver if you weren’t about three drinks in and a little fucked out, but you can’t find it, because Paige wants all of it. Every sound, every plea, every desperate, breathless, “Paige, please.”

And, oh, do you give it to her.

Paige groans at the way you say her name, like she can feel it straight between her legs, like it’s fueling her. Her fingers keep working you open, hitting every spot like she knows your body better than her own, because truthfully, she does. She’s mapped you out a hundred times before, but never like this, never this drunk, never with the high of being number one mixing with the high of you.

“That’s my girl,” she praises, watching the way her fingers disappear in and out with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Look so pretty takin’ it, baby. Knew you would.”

You tremble, a moan breaking past your lips, and Paige just grins, like she’s putting on another show, something like the one she just left from. But this one? This one is just for her.

“Almost there?”

You nod frantically, nails digging at her wrist, trying to keep yourself together—but fuck is it hard when she’s all over you like this. She speeds up just a little, the wet sounds of her digits working you over and making your cheeks burn, but Paige loves it. She leans in, licks up the side of your neck, tasting the wreckage.

“Paige,” you pant, eyes fluttering.

“Say it again,” she rasps, her forehead pressed to the side of yours now, her fingers still moving, hips subtly grinding against nothing, like she’s as desperate as you are.

“Paige,” you whimper, and you wish you could say it was voluntary. “I—”

You don’t even get the chance to finish, because Paige presses down on your stomach again, just right, and your whole body reacts—clenching around her fingers, thighs twitching like she just stole every bit of your sanity. You really think she might’ve. Maybe she’s been taking from you this entire night—the air in your lungs, the thoughts from your head, the control you thought you had.

“Yeah, I know,” she talks you through it, lips brushing against your temple, her fingers still working, still curling inside you, playing you like a highlight reel. “Go ‘head, ma. Give it to me.”

Your release crashes into you, body locking up before breaking apart, your moan swallowed by Paige’s mouth as she kisses all of it out of you, eating up every last sound like she needs it, like she wants it dripping down her chin. Her fingers never stop moving, making sure you know she did this to you.

She pulls away with a bite of your lip, savoring the remnants of her own name on your tongue, and for a second, you think she’ll let you breathe, let you come down from the high she just sent you to.

But then she shifts against you the same way she’d been doing all night, grinds her hips up into nothing, and you feel it.

Paige Bueckers, all six feet of her, usually so composed, the one who calls the shots in bed and most of the time out of it—is crumbling for you now, fists gripping at the leather seat like she’s barely holding on.

Your fingers slide down slowly at the realization, popping open her belt, then her slacks, pushing them down just enough to expose the waistband of her boxers.

All you need is five minutes.

So you move. Drop to your knees right between hers, push her legs wider as you settle between them, dragging your palms up her thighs when she breathes out your name in her gravelly Minnesota accent. You let your nails creep up under her shirt, scratching lightly against her lower stomach. Too much teasing for the blonde, not enough mouth.

Paige growls, actually growls, and before you can blink, she grabs your wrist, pressing your hand right over her, rolling her hips into your palm. “Ain’t in the mood for allat,” she mumbles, jaw clenched, pupils dilated. “You know what the fuck I want, baby. Stop stallin’.”

You listen.

Partly because she’s just had the biggest night of her life, the kind of night people dream about. Winning a National Championship just a few weeks prior to getting your name called first for the draft, becoming the face of a franchise, name solidified in history. She worked her ass off for it too, and tonight? Tonight, she made it.

So you listen. You don’t stall, and you swear you hear the music get louder again—like the driver knows exactly what’s about to happen.

The minute you start mouthing at her, you can feel her muscles jump under your lips. Paige inhales, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, rubbing at your skin. The limo rocks slightly, the bass from the speakers rattling through your ribcage, but none of that matters. The only thing you care about is the way Paige is falling apart in your mouth.

She tries to hold out, tries to keep it together, but the way her thighs twitch when your tongue moves just right? The way she shudders when you suck?

“Fuck,” she groans finally, head tipping back, body lunging upward on instinct.

And she loses it.

Because Paige has never been one to sit back and just take it.

Her hips start moving, rolling into your mouth, and you let her, let her use you, let her chase what she needs because you need it too—the way she sounds, the way she tastes, the way her legs start to tremble, thighs pressing against your cheeks and smudging your makeup because she can’t help it.

She’s ruined and a little helpless, mumbling half formed curses and praises that don’t even make sense. You swear you could come again just by listening. “Been needin’ you all night. Keep doin’ that.”

She rides it out while your tongue works in circles, fingers digging into her thighs to keep her there even though she can’t be still, her body shaking along with her hands that can’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.

You flatten your tongue, holding her down a little rougher when she bucks up against your mouth. She’s so close, right there, her body trying to outrun her own orgasm, but you don’t stop.

“Please—please, baby—feels s’good,” she whines, her fingers tugging at your hair just the way she knows you love, hips stuttering, moans guttural. “Just like that—don’t stop, don’t—”

She chokes on her next breath, her body breaking just like yours did, just like she’s so deserving of.

And when she finally slumps back against the seat, spent, her chest still heaving, her thumb lazily stroking over your cheek, she grins down at you, tired, satisfied, definitely not ready for the whatever afterparty diorama is waiting for her like a coronation.

“Yeah,” she breathes, licking her lips as she pulls you back up into her lap, kissing you like she could go another round, tongue sweeping into your mouth to taste herself.

“Number one pick, baby,” she slurs. “How that sound?”

Like trouble. Like a whole dynasty in the making. Like she’s already on top of the world, and somehow, that ain’t high enough.

You giggle, pressing her cheeks between your fingers as you peck at her lips. “Fucking great. How’s it feel?”

“Feel like I could do this all night,” she mumbles, hips rocking up into you, her need reigniting just like that. She masks it as a slight shift, but you know better. “What about you? Think you got another one in you?”

Like she even needs to ask.

[chosoclub]

      ✩ I WAS BUSY THINKIN' 'BOUT BOYS

TAGS: MDNI! ° (TOJI, GOJO, NANAMI)(&READER) ° fingering (f!receiving) ° cunnilingus (f!receiving) ° penetration ° afab!reader ° no y/n mention A/N: this has been sitting in my docs since...september...of last year...pls enjoy ✌︎('◡'✌︎ ) listen to boys by charli xcx

“I NEED THAT BAD BOY TO DO ME RIGHT ON A FRIDAY” ☆ FUSHIGURO TOJI

You hear the rev of his engine, peeling rubber settling against the concrete curb before you even get a text or call. You peer at him from your window, watching as he digs his phone out from his sweatpants pocket, you can see the beads of sweat along his temple, illuminated by the neon screen. 

A roll of the eyes when you read the message, dichotomous to the way your heart jumps when you hear the ding!

You home? 

Nonchalantly,

Yeah, come up

The doorbell chimes with Toji’s presence, despite the amount of times you’ve told him to just come in. He stands there, all dark frock, umber hair sticky to his forehead, deep onyx eyes eating you up. 

“Close the fucking door, you’re letting all the cold air out,” he says swiftly, passing you by and inside, knocking his concrete shoulder against yours. No rebuttal back, only a gentle close of the front door. 

When you turn around, you almost run straight into his chest. He’s already smirking, something about the way your pajamas hang around your hips, the dip of them swinging the front door closed already has his blood rushing all over. 

“God, you’re so sweaty,” you say.

Toji smirks, snaking a hand around your waist, forcibly pushing against your lower back until your abdomen is pressed against him. He reaches a hand and runs it over your hair, softly and gently tugging at the ends. 

“Don’t lie, I know you like me like this, baby,” he smirks. 

He tips his fingertips underneath your jaw, lifting your chin to kiss your lips. The gentle gesture is a fluke, as the moment his lips lock onto yours, he is viciously biting, licking, suckling at your lip. He picks you up with ease, and despite his respectful knocking at the door, he is not shy about knowing the way around your house, he could navigate your body and home just the same, with his eyes closed. 

When he dips you on the bed, your shirt and pajama pants disappear immediately. Toji admires your matching lacy set, chuckling under his breath as he takes a finger under the band of your emerald bra, lifts it, and lets it softly snap against your shoulder, “cute set,” he coos.

He silences your soft hiss with another kiss, moving down to your shoulder and kissing the splotch that’s already blooming red and bumpy. His palm reaches below your back to unclasp your bra, with one swoop lifting it off your chest and onto the floor. Down the hollow of your chest and to your apex, he reaches his hand beneath the lace.

“So wet already?” He mocks, leaning up on his knees to admire you sprawled out on the bed. He reaches two fingers in immediately, swirling in the honey-thick pleasure, using the pad of his index to spread it along your apex. He is pulling and pushing agonizingly slow, when you unscrew your eyes, through impatient pants, his conniving grin, the scar perpendicular to his lip fracturing from its usual line. You roll your eyes, 

“You wanna get on with it, Grandma?”

He’s looking at you directly, eyebrows raised, the grin only growing, and the sound of a tut replacing your sighs. 

“As you wish, sweets.”

You barely have time to process the four words, or how fast he’s taken his sweatpants and rolled his shirt over his shoulders, or how fast he is over you like an apex predator, eyes sinister, because he drives his cock so deep so fast, your eyes roll back into your head like a slot machine. He’s bombarding your gummy walls, causing you to gush all around him, an actual curse that only drives him to move deeper and faster. You feel your vagina tighten around his girth, the length of it pushing past it at such a hungry speed, it’s knocking each breath out of your lungs. 

“How’s that, babe?” The pet name now rolls off his pants in ridicule, “that fast enough for you?”

His rough hands hold your torso in place, only more leverage to ram into you so hard that the headboard creaks. Desperately and hopelessly, you pant,

“Y-yes,  fuck yes, it’s fast enough,” Exasperated, hoping for Toji to reach his limit, spare your cervix and lungs in fear that if he continues to slam into you so hard, you’ll lose your ability to breathe. He never does. He chuckles at the way your mouth is agape, only releasing a pant in rhythm to his impaling thrusts. Your pussy continues to betray you, the warmth suddenly stirring hot then boiling until your muscles unknowingly convulse around his cock. Toji hisses at the feeling, gazing down at your body,

“Just couldn’t be patient could ya?” He pants into your neck. “Wanted to treat you all nice and slow, but I knew you’d like this more.” He thrusts in rhythm to your breaths, mouth hanging over yours. The pressure becomes so overbearing, that you give in to the movement, trying your best to slam down on him and match the speed, chasing your release. 

You tighten your eyes shut, the unforgiving thrusts stretching your walls until you’re whining, withering for an orgasm. Toji hums, his intention for you to bottom out completely. With one last rutting thrust, the pressure snaps, the tension releasing until all you can see in front of you is white and the vague outline of Toji. He groans at the sight, making sure you ride every second of your euphoric high. You cry out when he comes inside you, pearly white cum overflowing, seeping from your pussy.

He breathlessly pants against the crook of your neck. You can only muster to bring an arm over his broad back, 

“That was nothing, could’ve been rougher,” You puff.

“Shut the fuck up,” He ensures one last deep thrust before inching out, the overwhelm making you suddenly yelp.

“AND I NEED THAT GOOD ONE TO WAKE ME UP ON A SUNDAY” ☆ SATORU GOJO

It’s not the sun, angled through the split blinds in orange and red, just above the horizon, signifying a time you should be asleep, that wakes you up. It’s instead, how loud, presumably Gojo, slams the front door shut; For if it’s not him, then the burglar inside your apartment made a terrible giveaway when the door slammed and when he followed the boom up with Shit!

He leans against the kitchen counter waiting for you to inevitably come forth, always a light sleeper – He figured you’d snap up and awake if he breathed too loudly. He smiles when he sees you – hair flat against your forehead and matted in the back, eyes just barely open, arms ready for his embrace. 

He holds a carton of two drinks in one hand and a paper bag in the other, nevertheless scooping his arms around your shoulders so you can lay your temple against the crook of his neck.

“Good morning,” his chest vibrates with his voice, lips kissing the crown of your head. You inhale against him, he smells like the brisk morning fog and coffee, the warmth of his hoodie already beginning to lull you back to sleep. He gives another kiss to your head and you detach from his torso. “I got you coffee!” Gojo smiles, extending his arms that hold the key to waking you up in the morning. 

You reach for one of the cups, swinging it back only for the overwhelming taste to melt into your tongue, “Oh my god, this is too sweet, what did they put in this?”

“Oooops, that one is mine,” he tsks, fishing the cup from your hand. He hands you your rightful cup and takes a sip of his own. “I’m going shopping later, you wanna come?”

You nod, smiling into the lid of the cup, taking a sip, and looking up at him through the tops of your lashes, “plenty of time until then though, yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah, plenty of time, we could do whatever.”

You hum. Still not getting it, “Whatever?” With a tilt of your head. 

In a flash the over-the-top-too-sweet latte is placed on the counter, when you look back up at Gojo, his irises flash at the suggestion, pupils widening and contracting. 

“Say no more.” 

You yelp when he scoops his arm under your legs, the other supporting your torso. The sun washes the bedside, orange hues refracting against the white duvet, surface tension breaking when Gojo places you down. He dips down to lock his lips to yours, coffee-coated tongue already gently pushing past the divet of your mouth. He licks your bottom lip, hand coming to your jaw as he mixes your tongue with yours. 

Wasting no time, his hands move to slide your pajamas to the side, his mouth detaching from yours with a slick click. Gojo’s eyes glisten in the morning, the creases at the ends of his eyelids prominent when he looks at you, hair like the glimmer of the moon. There’s something about the look he gives you, his pupils focused like a cat’s, his toothy wicked smile before he disappears between your legs that turns you on more. 

He starts gently, easing his tongue between your folds, the ridges melting against the inner flesh. He puckers his lips slightly before pulling his mouth away completely to give lingering kisses to your inner thigh. The feeling tickles, too distracting to focus on how badly you need his mouth back on your pussy. When his focus is back to your cunt, he’s more crude. He laps at your cunt like it’s spring water, your pleasure fresh on his lips. Gojo's eyes blink up to your face, the difference in his force and speed apparent in your squirms against the bed. He dives his tongue further, folding the walls of it until your cunt sits perfectly into the cup of his tongue. Then he drives it out to tease your clit, to watch you sink into the bed, to marvel at how your knuckles turn white-hot. 

You ride your pelvis against Gojo’s face, the conjunction making him hum against you, sending ripples until they reach your chest. He suckles on your clit, knowing how it draws the cutest whimpers from your lips. He watches how your eyes roll back into your head when he flutters his tongue in waves against your cunt. He catches the twitch of your hip, one of his hands holding your side down so he can divulge further. One more flick of his tongue and you're left gushing, mouth agape, every muscle in your body spasming but Gojo’s palm holds your hip steady so he can savor every single drop out of you. 

It feels like you’re sinking into the bed when he comes back up, an arm sneaking behind your back and gently pulling you up into a kiss. Sunlight falls on both of you, you smile against his lips, a gentle hand coming up to caress his jaw.

“THAT ONE FROM WORK CAN COME OVER ON MONDAY NIGHT” ☆ KENTO NANAMI

Not by some moral conduct, but more to save yourself the headache, you heeded the warning: Don’t date your coworkers.

But when you’re in the work kitchenette, when his brown eyes catch yours, fingertips simmering above your grip on the fridge handle, when a gentle chuckle, a sorry falls from his lips, the admonition topples over, the cautioning words now a mangled, scattered mess rather than a sentence. You lift your hand on instinct, letting him open the fridge door and retrieve his lunch. 

Getting to know Nanami was getting to admire him in silence. He spoke eloquently on calls, he would only requite a kind smile when you bid him goodnight at the end of the workday. You craved to break it. 

When the buzzing, pale lights only illuminate the two of you, two seats apart, staying late one day after meeting a deadline, you muster up the courage, 

“To celebrate, you want to have a drink?” And more squeaky, “together?”

Waiting. Your heart thunders like a dryer with shoes in it. Cheeks tinged soft ruby, Nanami accepts. 

It’s three drinks deep in your apartment that you’ve finally cracked through his exterior, to find a more outspoken Nanami, one that dips his eyes to look directly into yours, yellow-brown pupils swirling like a warm cauldron, inviting you to take a dip. There’s no fourth drink, only two halves of stilled alcohol in their glasses when your lips, flushed rose and plump are caught between his teeth. 

The grip he has on your hips is anything but considerate, blushed crescent moons blossom on your skin, his teeth and tongue anything but kindly leave violet marks to flush across your chest. You slip your hands underneath his dress shirt, feeling his toned torso underneath, pushing against the seams to lift the shirt from his head. The collar catches on his glasses, you giggle at the springs of blond hair that stick from his shirt. Nanami diffuses, chuckling as he detaches his hands from you to pry the shirt off. 

You almost drool at the sight of his abs and chest, a shame this is hidden by that blue shirt, yet you feel fucking honored to be the one to see him naked and hot. A soft sigh and one of his hands grip your breast as his mouth is back on yours ferociously, hungry for you. As your hand reaches nether to undo his belt, Nanami’s whispered gasp, fuck accompanied by a soft smirk sends a buzz through you, toe to toe with his insatiable hunger. 

He lifts you by the hips and onto the granite counter, mouth against your neck as his hands undo your jeans. His fingertips waste no time sliding aside your panties and when he lifts his head, in between the cold compress of his fingers against your pussy, you notice his surprise at how wet you are. Contrary to the way his arm veins bulge against the smooth muscle of his forearm, and the way his blond slicked-back fringe has already lost its form for a messier, softer frock, he flashes a sweet smile, melting you straight into his palm. 

“We’ll clean this counter up later, yeah?” Followed by his two fingers spreading inside you, one overtaking your sweet spot the other drifting down against your folds. His other hand, with your aid, moves his pants and boxers to the floor. His cock springs from his boxers, a soft gasp from your lips at his length. When you meet Nanami’s eyes, he’s blushing. A man made of antithesis.

He enters you with ease, both of you sighing in unison, your head lolling back against the cabinets, his bobbing forward towards your collarbones. Despite the slow pump, he picks up speed exponentially, hands gripping your sides until the veins threaten to seep through, sliding you against his girth. The speed hand in hand with his tip sliding against your cervix, has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. The words that slip from his lips, his current state, the way his bicep is flexed against your temple while his hand is propped up on the cabinet doors, are unlike any you could’ve predicted.

“Would’ve never guessed you were so filthy,” He pants, “would’ve fucked you sooner if I knew.” 

When you bring your head back up, you watch him, his abs compressing and tightening, chest heaving, illuminated by sweat, his eyes keen on your pussy squelching his dick further in. You latch your feet together against his lower back, legs tightening to draw him closer, which sends a deep groan from Nanami, unlocking a speed you didn’t know was possible. Your pelvis moves in unison against his, never separating as you tighten against his cock – any possible way to torture him. 

“I-I,” you pant, breath dissipating against his lips, “so close.”

“Go ‘head gorgeous,” he sighs, latching onto your swollen lips, “let go for me.” 

You pant his name as you come, blacking out and only held up in place by his hands against your lower back and hip. Watching through low lids, his pearly white teeth flash proudly, and Nanami releases right after, full of pants and groans as if he was holding on waiting for you to finish first. Counter sticky from your pleasure, he continues to hold on to you while you watch his chest move in unison with your breaths. Like a fatal blow, a white flag, a final strike, he flashes the same genuine smile against your gaze, that you can’t help but reciprocate until the two of you chuckle breathlessly against the dimly lit kitchen.

Your coworkers don’t seem to take the news of you and Nanami hooking up as gingerly. Their warnings, flashing lighthouse light, bright and blinding, that this won’t end well, ring in your ears. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, I am, but this man and his hips have bewitched me.” 

                   “I WANT 'EM ALL !” ✩

[venusandsaturnsrings]

mydei is several things, you think, firstly he’s a dedicated warrior as the crown prince of castrum kreminos. secondly, he’s got a bad habit of being snippy when he has feelings for people. thirdly, and finally, mydei is very handsome lounging in the bathhouse.

you’ve sat yourself distantly as the thought of being any closer to him while he’s even more exposed then usual and clearly pondering something very intensely makes you beyond nervous but that doesn’t stop your staring. it’s hard not to when you can see the slow rise and fall of his chest, every twitch of his eyebrows, the way his tongue shifts against his cheeks, and the half lidded gaze he’s got focused on the tiles across from him. you’re acutely aware people have noticed your staring but as long as mydei himself doesn’t take note and neither does phainon, because you know he’d snitch, everything’s fine… mostly, save for the twisting in your gut whenever his lips part and he sighs.

alas, there’s rules against getting up to anything inappropriate in the baths so in order to relieve yourself leaving is required. standing up both shamefully and in a slight hurry the water slides down your body and the thin layers of cloth keeping you covered stick to your skin. in the current circumstances it almost feels perverted to have your form so visible but you’re sure no one will bat an eye as it’s a typical sight given it’s a bathhouse and people always look like this. distracted by your own thoughts paired with the growing warmth inside yourself, you don’t even notice when a certain someone named mydei has shifted his gaze onto you. his jaw is clenched at the sight and he can’t deny the twitch he himself feels below the belt. he watches you walk towards the elevator and almost holds himself back but dented ego be damned he needs you.

your pace is quick as you leave the bathhouse to return to your own home and swallow thickly at the embarrassing amount of desperation you feel. it’s a short walk and while you’re fumbling with your keys a hand lands on your shoulder and you almost jump out of your skin. turning around quickly the face of the man you’d just been lusting over makes your brain stop briefly before having a million thoughts racing per second; surely he didn’t know? mydei has a firm gaze that only leaves momentarily to eye you up and down, the both of you still soaked having not dried off in the haste of leaving. your cheeks flush at his obvious action and it takes a lot of focus to not start grabbing at him in broad daylight. you swallow harshly a second time. he takes the keys from your hand and, much steadier than yourself, opens the door for the pair of you to stumble in. it’s mindless when mydei kicks the door shut behind you both, peels off all of the clothing keeping your bodies apart, and pins you against the wall. it’s a dance you’ve done together a million times.

he’s gentle when the tips of his fingers run up and down your slit, teasing and gently dipping past your lips to gather slick across his hand. his lips latch onto your neck and leave a constellation of bruises and love bites you’ll enjoy tracing and admiring tomorrow. mydei slides two fingers inside your heat to prepare for what will come, pushing and pulling in and out while you whine and claw at his upper arms for more. he’s not a cruel man and thusly waits until the thrusting and spreading of his fingers comes easy despite your protests of desire. his breath is shuddering when he licks his hand clean before pulling your legs around his waist letting his muscles do the work of holding you up.

it’s not an easy fit but desperation has you both wound tight so all it takes is one slow and firm push of his hips to have himself down to the hilt inside of you. mydei is gasping and panting into your shoulder with how you’re gripping him so tight and warm, slick drooling down his balls. you can feel him bare his teeth when he drags himself out to pump back in again and start up a firm rhythm that your brain and guts struggles to keep up with. it feels impossibly good when he’s abusing your insides and the water has turned to sweat. his pace can’t be described as rough more so as domineering. all you can think of is how good it is to have him so deep and nudging every perfect spot just right. drool is slipping down your chin and you barely notice when he licks it up and fits his lips over yours open mouthed. it’s sloppy, all teeth and tongue, but it’s mydei and so you think its nothing short of perfect.

[timidgrace]

𝜗ৎ miss you — art donaldson

— art x fem!reader ^_^

cw: smut without plot, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f!receiving), tiniest bit of dacryphilia if u squint.. overall very 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 stuff 👅👅👅.

୨୧ author’s note : hi tbis is my first fic so my writing sucks okay bye 🔥 hi sorry hi

it’s obvious to you that art has a very busy life. being an incredibly successful tennis player is not for the weak.

technically, not for your poor, sweet boy.

of course, art had an immense amount of talent and he loved what he did. but god fucking damn it— all those tournaments, endless training, the exhaustion afterwards.. all of it meant he’d be away from you, away from the loving arms he just loves to nuzzle against, from the long legs he loves to rest in between. it’s the most mentally draining part of playing tennis, in his opinion.

rewatching the big bang theory for what seems like the 20th time, hair dripping wet from the shower, the doorknob makes a little noise and you look up.

first it’s his smell. then his right foot. then his head. then a smile, from the both of you.

“hi”, your voice cuts through the air, silent, except for sheldon’s endless blabbering about.. what was it? you don’t remember anymore.

without wasting another second, he jumps into your arms, your loving arms that he missed so much. he sighs, “hi, missed you so much, hi.”

running your hands through his hair, tickling the fine hairs on the back of his neck, you press a fond kiss to his forehead. he hums.

it’s been too long since you’ve held him like this. too long since you’ve smelled his cologne mixed with sweat, the scent filling your nostrils to the point it’s uncomfortably pleasurable; too long since his hands had squeezed your waist.

too long since something funny poked your thigh.

“art, hon?”, you smile and look down at him. he’s already crying from embarrassment.

“‘m sorry”, he whispers, getting up, wiping his tears, sniffling, “i can’t.. i can’t help it, ‘m so sorry, baby.”

“oh, hon”, you reply fondly, yet you can’t seem to contain the chuckle that escapes your lips. seeing him cry is a veritable sight. sometimes you wonder if he does it on purpose because he knows you get off to it. “cmere, ‘s okay, hm? it’s fine.”

you gather his tall frame (which now seems small) into your arms, kissing his forehead, nose, finally reaching his lips. you cup his jaw and gently squeeze it, making it slack just enough so you’re able to slide your tongue inside his warm mouth. he moans and you swallow the sound while your hand travels down to his thigh, dangerously close to his already hardened shaft, before your thumb brushes against his crotch.

“mmgh—“, he whimpers as quietly as he can before reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, a string of saliva following him. “pl-baby, please”, a breath, along with a sniffle.

you smile wickedly. there we go. he’s now reduced himself to begging— not at all surprising, but amusing nevertheless. “please, art? what are you being so polite for?”, you tease with a smile— no, a smirk— on your features.

“come on, babe”, he whines, tightening his grip on your waist. “i need it s’bad, please, please..”

“you need it that bad?” your hand is close. so close. your nail grazes his tip and he gasps, nodding frantically.

then you riiiip his shorts off him. his boxers follow behind. his cock, pre-cum just barely forming on his tip, slaps against his abdomen.

“there. what do you need?”

he doesn’t know. it just came to him that he doesn’t want to be touched. he wants to touch.

in a second, he’s on you, desperately sliding your panties off your legs and throwing them carelessly on the floor (or maybe it fell somewhere else, you’re too busy to care), arms around the back of your knees, long fingers spreading your lips and— god, you’re dripping. he moans lewdly at the sight.

burying his face between your legs, nose brushing against your clit, he laps incessantly at your folds. you gasp, you moan, your hips buck, you tug at his blonde strands.

“mmmh, yes, yes—“, you groan, legs wrapping around his head, heels on the back of his neck, pushing him forward. he moans, shaking his head from side to side, looking up at you with teary eyes.

a finger circles your entrance. oh, god, oh, god.

you nod frantically. you know he’s not going to tease you, but still, you’re desperate.

it slides inside you, gummy walls tightening with every inch. then it begins to move: leaves just so his nail’s at the entrance, then back inside. then another finger.

“mmh, tastes so good”, art moans, eyebrows furrowing in concentration, eyes fluttering shut before opening again because he realized he doesn’t wish to stop looking at you.

his fingers speed up in the slightest but you feel it. you feel it and you moan in delight, “mmh, yes, yes, keep going, art— mmh!”

your hips buck and he presses his head even closer to you, gently sliding another finger.

“art,” you moan, head lolling back in ecstasy, “baby, i’m gonna cum, yes, ‘m gonna—“

before you can even finish speaking, your orgasm hits. hits so hard. your hips buck and you grasp the fabric of the sofa desperately in an (failed) attempt to ground yourself. you gasp, you writhe.

art gently slides his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean of your juices, humming as he enjoys the taste of you.

with a sigh, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips and pulls back to whisper,

“i missed you.”

[swamp-jello]

You said i was allowed to ask up to 5 so I reached my limit 👀 (please feel free to not do as many as you want, though)

5, 15, 25, 35, 45 ❤️

OKAY, GO OFF. Shorter blurbs for these so I don’t break Tumblr. Again, these are all in the Green universe (Neve x Crow!Rook). All below the cut:

#5: Where it doesn’t hurt

Despite the healer instructing Rook to take it easy, the Crow is not eager to sit still. She wants to be out in the rubble, clearing blight and finding survivors. Neve wants this, too; wants to be busy, to wipe even the smallest amount of dust from her ruined city. But she knows, logically, that they’re useless. While Rook insists she’s fine, Neve sees the limp in her step, notices the slight wince when she bends over. It’s a wonder it’s not worse given she’s just felled a god.

As Rook makes a beeline for the door of the Divine’s manor, Neve intercepts. Hands cupping bruised cheeks, she finds words are unnecessary. It only takes a moment for Rook to deflate, surrendering herself to Neve’s care.

Taking her hand, Neve guides Rook back to the makeshift sleeping area in the library. There, Neve slowly removes Rook’s armor. It’s not lost on her that, only hours earlier, she was tightening the very straps she now loosens. It feels like a privilege to come full circle; to see the rise and fall of Rook’s chest in the aftermath of Elgar’nan’s defeat.

Once free, Rook lies down, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. As they close, her hand seeks Neve’s in a show of vulnerability so rare for the Crow. Neve is quick to take it; to assure her she will be at her side as she falls asleep and when she wakes. She will be at her side for as long as Rook wants her.

As Rook’s breathing evens out, Neve scans her body. She’s littered with cuts, bruises and burns. Even after the healer’s efforts, the cut over her eye appears red and angry.

Not wanting to hurt the sleeping elf, Neve presses a kiss to the only area left untouched. As her lips brush Rook’s, an endless refrain marches forward in her mind:

I’m so glad you’re alive.

#15: Passionately

The office is small.

While her share of the grey warden contractual fee was substantial, Neve is not one to live beyond her means. The space was adequate, and she could always adjust as necessary. As long as both her and Rana could fit their desks, she had no qualms.

That doesn’t do anything for her nerves, however, when she finally invites Rook to see it. It was Rook, after all, who had helped her defeat Aelia. Rook who had encouraged her to trust others.  In that way, she sees her small detective agency as an investment on the Crow’s part. Perhaps, in that way, she wants her to be proud.

When Rook enters the space, her eyes scan bookcases and desks. Her hands run along the surfaces, leafing through papers and brushing over knickknacks.

It makes Neve anxious.

“It’s small,” she explains. “But we don’t need much. Plus, we can always upgrade if absolutely necessary.”

Rook nods before turning on her heel and walking towards the door. Neve blinks in confusion.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Rook locks the door. Then, in two quick strides, she crosses the gap between them. Her hands grasp Neve’s hips, pulling them flush, before she brings them together in a searing kiss.

As Neve’s hands circle Rook’s shoulders, the Crow pulls back slightly.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she whispers, a smile etched into her features.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Neve surges forward, mouth opening to deepen the kiss as Rook presses her against the wall.

#25: As a “yes”

Neve paces nervously, her steps burning a path between their kitchenette and their bedroom door.

Logically, she has no reason to be nervous. Rook started searching over three years ago, something she’d confided in Neve on their first date. That being said, she’d never requested Neve’s help and Neve had never offered. Instead, she’d quietly met with Strife, offering her assistance in the search.

She’d always assumed Rook hadn’t asked because she didn’t want to burden Neve. But what if she’d done it for another reason? What if this was something private, something Rook wanted to handle alone?

Neve’s spiraling thoughts are cut short as the front door opens and the Crow steps through. Her cloak is wet from the customary Minrathous drizzle and a cloth bag hangs from her arm, undoubtedly full of groceries. As she makes her way inside, she pauses suddenly, her eyes falling on Neve.

“Hey,” she begins slowly. “Everything…okay?”

“Yes,” Neve replies quickly. “I, uh…would you mind sitting down?”

Rook stares at her a moment longer, eyes drifting between Neve’s tense expression and kitchen table.

“Alright,” Rook nods, crossing the room to sit. “Should I be worried?”

“No,” Neve shakes her head. “Well, I don’t think so?”

“Promising,” Rook laughs.

Moving quickly to the kitchen, Neve grabs a stack of papers before walking back to the table.

“I found something.”

“Oh?”

“Something related to your clan,” Neve continues.

Rook’s face becomes unreadable in an instant and Neve, already short on bravery, quickly places the stack of papers in front of her. There’s a pause as Rook considers her and then she shifts her gaze to the table, fingers brushing tentatively at the corners of the first page.

“I know you didn’t ask for my help,” Neve begins as she paces once more. “But I thought I could at least try. Strife had a good start, so I went from there. After we visited Moira and Josephine, they pitched in, too. We were able to track down the company responsible, which led us to various artifacts they’d stolen. I’ve already spoken to Mae, and she thinks we can-“

“Neve.”

Neve stops abruptly, her chest heaving as she turns to face her partner. Pushing back her chair, Rook stands and stares at her.

“You found my clan,” Rook begins slowly. “What’s left of them?”

“Yes,” Neve replies quickly.

Rook’s fingers tap at the stack of papers, expression inscrutable.

“I…” Neve swallows. “Is that okay?”

Rook’s head turns quickly, brow furrowing. Before Neve can register what’s happening, the Crow crosses the gap between them.

Strong arms circle Neve’s waist as she’s pulled into a kiss. Anxiety melting from her body, she brings her hands up to grasp at Rook’s shoulders.

The answer is silent yet it rings loud and clear in Neve’s head.

Yes.

#35 To gain something

She’s not expecting it.

One moment, Rook is holding Hal’s fish high above her head, taunting Neve. The next, her hands are empty, lips burning.

She’d hoped to coax the detective away from her desk; to convince her that a break was not only warranted but deserved. When Neve had drawn close, unwilling to yield, she’d held the fish high above her head, pulling backwards as Neve attempted to reach for it.

And then, just when she thought she had the upper hand, Neve had kissed her.

It was slow, tender and unexpected. It wasn’t that Neve never initiated anything; she’d grown bolder and more comfortable the longer they were together. It didn’t mean, however, that small gestures like this weren’t surprising.

As the kiss lingers, Rook’s body relaxes and then, before she can register her mistake, the fish is plucked from her hand.

She can’t find it within her to be angry.

As Neve pulls back, a sly smile on her face, Rook’s eyelids flutter. She wants a million more moments like this. She’s just not sure she can say that right now.

To her relief, Neve notices. Her smile softens, a hand coming up to caress the Crow’s cheek.

“I don’t tell you enough, do I?” Neve asks quietly.

“What?”

“How much I love you.”

#45: Out of anger

Neve trembles with unbridled rage.

She marches down the cobblestoned road towards their apartment, Rook trailing tentatively behind.

They’d been at the Lamplighter, attempting to enjoy dinner and a show, when a drunk approached them. Placing a hand on Neve’s shoulder, he gruffly whispered, “Wanna get outta here, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t the first time she’d been approached like this and it certainly would not be the last. Thankfully, years of practice had made it easy to deflect their requests without causing a scene.

Not that she didn’t want to. It was just easier if she didn’t.

Before she could respond, however, a hand curled around the man’s wrist. “I think you’ve had enough to drink,” Rook breathed, voice low. “Time to go home, don’t you think?”

“Wha’s this?” the man slurred, face turning a deeper shade of red. His eyes dart between Neve and Rook, his inebriated brain piecing together a puzzle that Assan could solve faster.

“You’re with her?” he asks suddenly, eyes bugging. “Tell me she’s your slave. Tell me you’re not fucking some knife-eared bit-“

There’s a flurry of movement and within seconds, the man is lying on the floor, crying in agony as he holds up a broken wrist.

“Let’s go,” Neve breathed to Rook. “Now.”

Since then, they’ve made their way home in silence, Rook refusing to keep pace. It’s likely for the best; Neve doesn’t like this feeling and isn’t keen on others seeing her in this state.

Once home, Neve unlocks the door and rushes through the threshold. Her skin is warm, teeth grinding against each other as she begins pacing.

Lingering near the doorway, Rook shifts uncomfortably.

“Look, Neve,” she begins slowly. “I’m sorry. I should’ve let you handle it. I just…he touched you and…”

Neve comes to a sudden stop, her eyes meeting Rook’s.

“What?”

“I should’ve let you deescalate,” Rook continues. “I made it worse. I’m sorry.”

Neve blinks rapidly, confusion giving way to comprehension.

Rook thought she was mad at her.

Crossing the space quickly, Neve pulls the nervous Crow into a kiss. She feels her jolt in place, nervousness shifting to surprise. And then, mercifully, Rook relaxes.

Pulling back, Neve stares at her with unwavering conviction.

“No one calls you a slave,” she breathes. “No one.”

[flymetothexmoon]

Text Messages + Photos

Part Three

Warnings. 18+

Smut. Smut. Smut. Swearing. Oral F!Recieving. Oral!M Recieving. Breeding Kink. Consensual Degrading.

Our cuties finally did it.

Word Count: long long long.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Why don't you show me what else that pretty little mouth can do?"

You were no stranger to an open ended invitation.

In fact, even in your younger years, people would commend your ability to adapt to the developing needs of any situation.

Thanos knew that about you. He'd spent too many nights overthinking about who you were with, what you were doing, where you were, and why you were not with him.

It was no secret that he calculated each little detail leading up to the moment you two were sharing. How he knew you were alone the night he asked if you were awake, how he waited eight days until asking you to hang out, somehow knowning that today you were most fertile.

His words were his weapon and his mouth was the bullet, aiming at each person you both knew, prying to get any information he could about when to start planning something he knew you would so easily adapt to.

"What's wrong, Señorita? Lost in that pretty little head again?"

Your bottom lids fluttered, your eyelashes hitting your under eye as the two of you made eye contact. Thanos' eyes were dark, the only light left in them were the faint blue lines caused by the contact lenses he wore. The first time you stared into them you swore they were blue, but the darkness was visible today, something that usually meant two things: he was on something, or he was horny.

It was quick, and your brain took a moment to register what happened next as Thanos had moved to closer you, closing any gap you two might have had as one of his hands squeezed your thigh, the other his thumb was rubbing your bottom lip, almost like he was trying to show you the parts of you that he loved most.

"I wore this for you," your lips trembled slightly against his thumb, causing his hand to vibrate, as a low chuckle escaped his mouth.

"I know."

Thanos' voice had lowered, lowered so much that you could not help but audibly gasp. The purple haired man in front of you smirked, digging three of his five fingers into your thigh, surely hard enough to at least leave tiny little scratch marks against the sensitive part of your skin.

Something in you changed when you felt his fingers, and within seconds, you were on him. Thanos did not even flinch at the sudden contact, instead gripping onto your hips even tighter like you were the safety barrier on a rollarcoaster. His own bottom lids began to flutter, a low growl escaping his lips. Tilting your head slightly, you felt your hands grabbing his face close to yours, the black ink on his neck was buldging at the sudden contact.

And just like that...

You kissed him again. Except this time, you were the one in control; you were the allowing forcing your tongue into his mouth.

The dance was not foreign to you two, you had time to practice, and now was the the moment you two had been waiting for, like the moment in Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake when the white swan transforms into the black swan.

His lip still faintly tasted like your peach flavored lipgloss, it was almost like you could taste yourself on him and that alone made you respond by rolling your hips into his. You could fucking feel him already; his nails digging deeper into your thigh, like he was writing his name in to your skin with his nails.... you could feel his erection desperately pushing against you, like it was a zoo animal that was set to be released back into the wild, just waiting for the green light to be set free.

Your thumb rubbed circles into his cheeks, feeling his upper teeth gritting against your finger.

Thanos was the first to pull away. His eyes never leaving yours as he pushed his head against yours, a single strand of his purple hair was now stuck to your face with the smallest amount moisture. If he was that hot from kissing you, your mind began to wonder how much hotter he would feel if you two continued...

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to do that, shit?" His question surprised you, but you felt your lips curve into a smirk, your hips pushing against his hips again, your hand that was on his cheek began to slowly move downward as you remained eye contact, gently grazing your thumb against the curve in his jaw, moving down his chest where you could hear his heartbeat... and finally, as you cupped the middle of his jeans, your thumb deliberately going in circles.

"I don't know... Eight days, maybe?"

Your answer was playful, and Thanos loved that shit. He ate that response up like it was his last meal, his eyes darting to your hand, watching your hand carefully.

Thud.

Before you had time to work your hand back upward toward his belt, your back was against Thanos' bed, and he was goddamn hovering above you; the metal cross necklace he wore against his neck was dangling, inches from hitting you in the face, and you almost silently wished it would. His hands were on either side of you, palm side down as he supported himself.

"Guess again, Señorita."

You did not have time to guess before his body shifted, and you two were chest to chest again and his lips were on yours again. Like a reflex, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waste, wanting aching to feel him.

The sudden contact made Thanos' throat vibrate as his lips parted from yours, quickly latching onto any sensitive area of your skin he could. Finally, they settled on the base of your exposed collarbone, his teeth chewing into you, like he had let a steak sit too long. Surely there was blood at this point, but the thought only excited you more, a low moan escaped your lips as you could feel your back arching into the mattress.

"I cannot wait to taste the rest of you... bet you are so fucking sweet,"

Thanos was a lot of things, and he knew that. He knew how quick his hand movements were, and the sheer amount of experience and confidence he had was all one needed really.

It was the sound of fabric hitting the floor that made your eyes flutter open. You audibly gasped at what your eyes were looking down at... Thanos had completely riddled you of the bottoms you chose to wear, and his face was in between your legs, his lips planting a tiny kisses on your upper thighs and parting just right so he could blow cold air to your exposed flesh.

You were experienced enough to know what he was doing, and you could feel your left hand make their way to his hair, tugging gently onto his purple roots. Little did you know, the same day you had gotten your hair done, so did Thanos. Minutes after you did, purposely not bumping into you, all part of his plan to not see you until now.

Another moan escaped your lips, this one much louder, as you felt his tongue slide out of his mouth, getting closer and closer to where you both wanted him to be. The way you moaned reminded Thanos of what he assumed people thought when they heard goddamn Mozart for the very first time. He made a mental note to record you next time.

"Please..."

You were usually a woman of many words, but not right now, not when the most attractive person in your friend group was between your legs like a feral animal and he had not even started....

That was all Thanos needed to hear before humming slowly against your skin, your legs shaking slightly at the sensation. The way you could feel yourself more exposed, the corner of your eyes watching your underwear fly across the room, probably to forever get lost in a pile of both clean and dirty clothes that Thanos forgot about.

It was his turn to gasp, his mouth twitching to the side, a low pop coming from the TMJ in his jaw muscles.

"G'damn.... You been hiding this from me, babygirl? I'm hurt." You knew what this meant and you could not help but giggle, reminding him he has technically seen it before, but only by picture and video.

Low, sensual laughter filled Thanos' lungs like it was smoke from his vape; the feeling felt familiar. He kept one hand to the side of you, gripping onto your hip to keep you him steady.

They say whenever you have been struck by lightning, the chances of being struck again are highly likely, and that is how you felt in this moment.

You had never really fully noticed how long Thanos' fingers were until they were inside of you, and you could feel the cold metal of his ring, making you squirm underneath him as he pumped into you one final time, curling his middle finger just right.

His movements were quick, and before you could react, his palm smacked against your lower stomach and you swore you could feel your organs shifting as his he removed his two three fingers from you.

Your lips opened ever so lightly, almost like you were gasping for air, but before you could inhale the oxygen, you felt a shift in Thanos' body. He was still hovering above you, but his face was no longer close to yours, was no longer watching you. You could feel your chest rising slightly as the grip he had on one your hips tightened, becoming needier as his breathing began to match yours, his lips planting tiny kisses on your upper thighs, and low mumbles escaped his mouth...

"You smell fucking incredible. Bet you taste even better,"

It happened so quick, almost like he had been a man deprived, like he had not eaten anything a woman in months. His lips were lubricated by own saliva, and more importantly, by you. Thanos was no stranger to giving oral and how he managed kiss, suck, and mouth fuck your core, he was defintiely hungry.

"Thanos — ah! Please... Slow down..."

He was never one to listen.

If anything, his nails dug harder into your thigh, and his tongue pushed deeper inside of you, his head shaking slightly in the process, his purple roots that were not tangeld in your hands managed to tickle against you, causing another squirm to erupt.

Pop.

It was the sound of Thanos removing his mouth from you, but not from his position, his eyes were hungry still, and slightly annoyed; his lips were slightly parted, and were redder in hue.

"Bitch, stay the hell still, and I will be able to make you cum faster."

His words made you chuckle, and you could feel your insides boil a little at the idea of you cumming in his mouth, but you had a better idea. Before he was able to react, your free hand found the center of shirt, gripping tightly, so you could force eye contact.

"Maybe I would rather you cum inside of me... or in my mouth?"

The next minute was a blur, you two fighting for dominance, as each time you tried to get Thanos on his back, he'd bark at you to stop and pin you down harder, but you finally won.

"You win, Señorita. But do not forget that you I own you; I own your pussy, I own your pretty little m-" Finally, the man who always has something to say, fell silent, unable to comprehend proper basic motor skills because he was so goddamn distracted by the sudden feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

Thanos was also no stranger to getting oral from a pretty girl. There were even times that he'd have two people down there at once, rotating between whose mouth could handle him better. But in this moment, there was only one mouth that mattered; yours and for a split moment, Thanos' mind went to a place where he wondered what it would be like if he only ever had yours for the rest of his life.

Maybe it was the way mouth moved in sync with the low groans escaping his chest, or maybe it was the way he could feel his hands tangle up in your hair so tight his hand felt like a hairtie made just for you, but it was definitely the way your lips parted just enough so you could take it all.

"M'mm... I fucking fit perfect. Almost like my dick was made for that mouth, so I could experience what it felt like to be taken by a goddamn angel."

Words of praise were never Thanos' thing, especially because he never got much growing up, or from anyone really in his friend group, the only time someone ever complimented him was when Nam-gyu told him how good his rolling skills were.

He wanted you to know how good you were, how good you felt.

"Can I fuck your mouth?"

All you could do was hum in response, sending little tiny vibrations to the back of your throat as it was soon replaced with the thrust of his hips against your face. It only happened a few times, before the feeling was replaced by your hair being yanked backward, causing you to tumble backwards slightly, your mouth being released, causing your lips to swell from the lack of contact.

"What the fuck was that?"

Thud.

Your back had hit the mattress once more, the metal of the bed frame hitting the wall, as you watched the purple haired man lure over you again.

"You really do not know when to shut the fuck up do you? I got you to stop talking for five seconds while my dick was in your mouth and there you go again asking stupid questions..." The response was well calculated, like he had been silently begging to hear his own damn self mention his cock being in your mouth.

Before you could reply back, you felt it; the second bolt of lightning had struck you, and this time you could feel it right between your legs.

The movement was quick, before it lingered for a while, your legs already shaking, as it happened again, and again...

You could feel Thanos twitching too, each thrust was harder the last. Your eyes would open for a moment to watch him, his own eyes were sealed shut, not from not wanting to look at you, but from the pure feeling of your pussy being better than any drug he'd ever taken.

It was no surprise that by the next couple of thrusts, you could feel his hand touching your lower stomach, followed by his low, raspy voice.

"I can feel my dick moving in you. Are you ready to feel something else?"

"Please..."

That was all it took for Thanos to nod his head in agreement, knowing he would have done it anyway, before he came deep inside of you, his own eyes widening slightly at the site; you were pulsating, like he owned you.

And he did.

His thumb found its way to you, pushing any amount of his cum that might have tried to leave you, right back inside of you.

"M'mm. Gonna make you mine forever, Senorita..."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/N: not the best smut you'll ever read and i'm sry for the delay in posting but she finally up and posted. this series was meant to be only one part, and turned into three beautiful chapters ALL BECAUSE of the amount of likes i've received. you guys are the best 🥹

~ i have a few other drafts worked up with ideas. let me know if you have any requests 🩵

[more-than-a-princess]

She had to be careful. Even if it didn't feel like three minutes, It felt like an instant, it was more than enough time to be caught by another wayward passenger who likely didn't expect to find a princess and a celebrity snogging in an abandoned shed, waiting for the next train. It was a foolish idea to begin with, even for as inclined as she was to bend the rules. But Minato...he encouraged her to take more risks, more danger, more uncertainty. And that didn't include the spirits he came in contact with on a regular basis, on his show and off.

He might have resisted the urge to grind against her lap, but she wasn't above displaying such need. Nor was she inclined to tug down the hem of her skirt as it crept higher up her thighs, and she wasn't above tugging his shirt free from his trousers in order to press her hands against the skin of his back. They had a plan for the day, sure, but that plan now included a deep desire to feel him, all of him, around and in her. To feel everything he had to offer her, his heart included.

"Minato," She gasped against his lips. "We can't..." Words that betrayed her actions as she pressed her hips further down against his lap. Any amount of friction in that moment would be the most welcome relief and the most bittersweet tease. There couldn't possibly be much time left for them, potential onlookers be damned. This was an impossible countdown to where neither of them would find the release they were looking for.

Something he didn't seem terribly concerned with as he pulled away. She probably looked like a mess: fully flushed, swollen lips, clothes rumpled and yet still on. Her coat would be necessary, to hide how disheveled she now was by his hands. "Surely we will have more time later tonight?" She suggested. Sonia had completed the necessary process, the royal protocol of traveling with a secret lover: booking adjoining rooms at the inn where they were to stay, and leaving the optional adjoining door unlocked and open for him. The record would show no proof she was staying with a man, and she would ensure she was in her own room should anyone come knocking. "I imagine nothing will tire us out today that would otherwise leave us unable to, ahem, enjoy the evening."

She kissed him gently, quickly, in return, before beginning to move off his lap once he'd calmed down and was safe to do so. "I love you too," She replied with a smile before quickly smoothing her hair, straightening her clothes, and buttoning and belting her coat. Save for her reddened cheeks and lips, she could almost pass as presentable. They exited the shack just as the train arrived.

"Tell me more about the stops we are to make today," She urged him as they boarded. It wasn't too difficult to find seats. "How many of your friends still reside here? Will we be able to meet them all?"

When their lips meet, while Minato started off soft and tenderly, it didn't take much for him to change his tune, the second he felt Sonia push into the kiss a little was enough to trigger it, pushing back harder against her lips, slipping his tongue in to quickly meet hers the second there's an opening, the hand around her waist tightens it grip around her slightly, enough to grab at the material of her clothing, his fingers fiddling a bit, ever so shaky in their grasp of the cloth, his other hand slithering its way down to join his other one opposite side of her waist.

He's fighting through the urge that desperately wants to claw their way through her clothing, screaming deep down inside him the craving to feel her soft, warm skin through this troubling barricade of fabric. If such an urge was to be fulfilled, this wouldn't be the time or place for it--seven minutes felt far too short, but at least he could touch her again, feel her again, taste her again, then it would have to be enough, at least for now.

Several seconds that felt like minutes pass, and both lips part so the air could return to their lungs, their foreheads touching, a soft panting of hot breath against her lips. When Sonia asks about their time, he takes his right hand away from her waist just for a second to check the time.

[{ 🦋 }] - "It's only been three minutes, we still have time for a few more." He quickly answered back, his hand finding its place back on her waist.

Determined not to waste even another millisecond of their remaining four minutes, he leaned in, closing his eyes on contact, once again going in for a taste, with much more aggression this time, evident from how hard his lips pushed against hers the moment their lips met, his tongue reuniting with hers much faster than the earlier kiss as they dance against each other in sloppy unison.

Grip around the fabric of her clothing again tighten, fingers pulling a bit, though as tedious as it was, he's able to subconsciously stop and resist the insatiable need to shed these annoying clothes, the driving urge to grind against her is somehow sated, he was getting a bit too into it, Sonia would easily be able tell considering she was still in his lap, despite that ache to take things further, he continues to hold himself back, tranquilizing this beast of desire that built up the longer he kissed her.

Lips part again, but only to take a small gasp of air, quickly locking lips for another hard kiss, desperate to sneak in one more, passion and fire even hotter in this one, nipping at her top lip, another kiss, to a nip at her bottom lip, counting the last few seconds in his head, he presses as hard a he can against her lips, finally breaking after several seconds, their foreheads touching again as the pair pant against each others lips, heaving a bit more roughly from this extended make-out.

Grey hues lock with those beautiful blue eyes he's become so used to staring at, a small smile on his lips. It was a shame that seven minutes of heaven had come to its conclusion, but at least they had time to do this at all--some up-close and personal time with each other that was clearly very much needed. The hand behind her neck shifts to gently cup her cheek.

[{ 🦋 }] - "I hate that we have to kiss and run, babe, but those were the best seven minutes ever, I wish we had more time..." Using the extra bit of time they had to spare, he doesn't want to waste this closeness, his thumb gently starts to caress her cheek affectionately.

[{ 🦋 }] - "-Uh, hey, before we head back out there-"

He smiles, wider, with significantly more warmth than the last one, while it was short, he was just glad that they had the chance to fully and openly express their love for each other.

[{ 🦋 }] - "I love you." He softly added, giving her one last quick little peck on the lips. Slowly taking his hands back, his right hand flipping palm up to help her off his lap, exiting the train station shack with her shortly after, the sound of the train arriving at the stop before theirs is heard the second the couple turns the corner.

[stripesysheaven]

.

[swytdoll]

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆!𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 [art: @hunnismokah :)]

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮: toji’s bulking and you’re ovulating! how can you keep your hands to yourself when all you want to do is touch? 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒩𝒯 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢: any color can read<3 size difference (toji has a monster cock ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა), blowjob, female oral, choking, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, cream-pie, explicit language, mirror sex, 69, toji fucks you in a headlock ݁𖥔 ݁˖

BULKING!TOJI who always seems to be wearing the sluttiest clothing. muscle tees that grip his meaty arms enticingly, showing off every curve and bulge of his well-defined biceps. his sweats always seem to hang too low on his hips, revealing a dark happy trail that leads down to his waistband. the fabric clinging to his thick thighs.

BULKING!TOJI who religiously carries a protein shaker with him, even on date nights, because he's serious about his bulking diet. he’s got a variety of protein powders, from chocolate to vanilla, and he loves mixing them with different fruits and oats to keep things interesting.

BULKING!TOJI who loves trying out new high-calorie recipes and often ropes you into cooking massive meals with him. you two have fun experimenting in the kitchen, making everything from giant stacks of protein pancakes to hearty chicken and rice dishes, always ensuring they meet his caloric needs. he’s genuinely grateful. often, hugging you from behind while you cook, placing the sloppiest kisses behind your ears, his tattooed arms coiled around your frame. his gratitude is evident in the way he nuzzles into your neck, whispering sweet nothings about how much he appreciates your efforts. “i love you, y’know that. . .right?”

BULKING!TOJI who’s noticeably chubbier, you like it. really like it, often burying yourself into his pudgy side with a satisfied sigh. “i could die like this.”

BULKING!TOJI who despite his intense workouts, always makes time to cuddle and watch movies, using you as his favorite "recovery" time. he loves resting his head on your lap while you binge-watch your favorite series, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he relaxes. “i hate this scene.”

BULKING!TOJI who gets annoyed and sleeps on the couch when you won’t stop playing with his tits. “you’re so damn annoying.”

BULKING!TOJI who you make sure has a secret stash of snacks in his gym bag for when he needs extra calories on the go. protein bars, nuts, and dried fruits are his go-to, and he always has a little something to munch on between sets or during quick breaks.

have a good workout<3 - signed your amazing beautiful girlfriend

BULKING!TOJI who becomes an expert at meal prepping, and his mini fridge is always stocked with containers of chicken, rice, and veggies. each container meticulously measured to ensure he gets the right amount of protein, carbs, and fats, and he takes pride in his perfectly organized fridge.

BULKING!TOJI who likes wearing your crop tops, flexing in front of the mirror. “take it off! you’re stretching my shit toji.” “no.”

BULKING!TOJI who can’t resist squeezing your face in his bicep, laughing as your chubby cheeks push together. “haha!”

BULKING!TOJI who just throws you over his shoulder during arguments. “i’ll put you down when you’re done being a brat.”

BULKINGTOJI! who thinks it’s dumb as you tie a pink ribbon around his wrist, demanding he stay still. he thinks it’s even dumber when you record it, the video boasting one-million likes on tiktok. “they loveeeeee you!”

BULKING!TOJI who’s entire hand covers your face. jeez, your poor cunt, he thinks.

BULKING!TOJI who can’t help but admire the way your swollen sticky lips suckle at his thick cock, pulling him back in greedily. usually, it’d take some time for him to ease into your tiny hole. but, you were ovulating today and after seeing your boyfriend walking around shirtless with nothing but boxers on, you practically jumped his bones.

BULKING!TOJI who presses all his weight onto you as he fucks your soppy pussy, the pressure in your back dull as he prods into that sweet spot from behind. pale veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, spreading you, revealing your puckering hole. a glob of warm spit followed by his thumb lubricating your asshole has you arching your back in anticipation. “papaaaa,” glossy eyes squeeze shut as he gently sinks his thumb into your asshole, pelvis relentlessly slapping into your sore ass. the sight has his dick twitching, “humph, look so pretty with both holes filled.”

BULKING!TOJI who doesn’t care that you’re overstimulated, rocking his dick into your tight velvety walls at a mean pace. you don’t know how many orgasms the man has yanked from you. “i know baby, doing so good. takin’ all of me like a big girl, fuckkkk.” glazed eyes watching the way you glisten on him as he folds you against the wooden headboard, your legs flush to your chest. “tojiiii,” you whine, he could get drunk off the way you whimper his name. “am i deep baby?” he groans, thick cream building on his base. “mhm!”

BULKING!TOJI who has you in the nastiest headlock, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other forcing you to look into the mirror. you’re a mess, disheveled hair, tear-stained cheeks, swollen lips. the man’s so fucking huge he covers your entire body. “unt, unt. eyes open beautiful.” he sends a particularly deep thrust that has you shivering. slick, slick, slick, a repetitive noise that has him grunting deeply into your ear.

BULKING!TOJI who eats your pussy while you suck his dick. it’s a struggle taking him, drool seeping down your chin as you slurp at the veiny masterpiece. it’s also a struggle to concentrate as he eats you out like a starved man, spitting, slapping, fingering. god, you’re gonna cum again. “cummin!”

BULKING!TOJI who watches as his cum trickles out of your pulsing hole, pushing it back inside with a frown. “stay.”

[miihho]

THE KIND OF GUY

( squid game edition boys ) nsfw

Frontman / 001 /

— HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who’d manipulate you subtly, weaving himself so deeply into your life that you wouldn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s made himself the sole person you can rely on, the only one you can trust.

— He’s the kind of guy who rarely lets anyone get close, especially in a place like this. As the Frontman, he’s used to controlling everything with precision and cold detachment. But when it comes to you, something shifts. The games are brutal, unforgiving, but he finds ways to make sure you get a little more help—extra food to keep you going, or a quiet word to the guards to make sure they would help you. He doesn’t do this for anyone else, but for you, he bends the rules just enough to keep you alive, his actions hidden beneath the mask but speaking volumes about the care he won’t openly admit.

— The kind of guy who’d undress you with his eyes from across the room, watching you as you laugh and chat with your teammates, completely unaware of the intensity of his gaze. His stare is almost predatory, soaking in every detail, devouring you without a single word.

— The kind of guy who never shows his jealousy outright, keeping his emotions carefully concealed behind a calm exterior. But his eyes—sharp and piercing—will find the person you’re talking to, delivering a silent, bone-chilling warning. Without a word, he makes them feel exposed, unsettled, and unwelcome.

As their confidence crumbles under his unrelenting gaze, they’ll stammer some flimsy excuse, their discomfort driving them to leave in a hurry. You, sweet and oblivious, will watch them go, your mind never grasping the quiet dominance he just asserted.

And when the space between you clears, he’ll step in with perfect timing, his presence effortlessly stealing your focus. His voice will be warm, his words lighthearted, drawing you into an easy conversation as if nothing had happened.

— The kind of guy who always gets what he wants, and if he’s set his sights on you, nothing and no one will stand in his way. Anyone who tries to come between you and him is dealt with swiftly—whether it’s a rival or someone foolish enough to fall for you. If they dare challenge him, they’re as good as gone.

— In sex, he’s the kind of guy who revels in your every movement, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of force. “Good girl,” he’d murmur, his voice low and dripping with desire, each word sending shivers down your spine. “That’s it, attagirl,” he’d whisper, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with raw admiration, as if every move you made was crafted to drive him wild.

If you’re straddling him, bouncing on his cock with desperate urgency, he’d lean back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as his eyes flutter shut, a deep, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His fingers digging into your waist, controlling your movements with a firm, possessive grip as his ragged breaths mingled with husky groans. “Fuck, you feel so good—so tight, so perfect,” he’d rasp, his voice dripping with raw hunger. The words would make your pace falter for just a heartbeat before his hands tightened on your hips, driving you down harder, faster, his need for you utterly insatiable.

But if he’s mad at you, it’s completely different. He’d have you on your stomach, your back arched as he pushes your head down into the bed, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “Such a fucking bad girl.” in a deep, rough voice that makes your body shudder. His frustration would translate into every powerful thrust, his movements unrelenting as your muffled cries echo into the pillow. The way he claims you, rough and demanding, would send you spiraling, your body surrendering completely as he makes sure you feel every inch of his cock.

— He’d absolutely be the type to let you cockwarm him while he’s busy, his focus shifting between his work and the needy little whines you make every time you shift in his lap. His hand would lazily rest on your thigh, occasionally gripping tighter when you squirm too much, a silent warning to behave.

But when you get too desperate, too needy for him to ignore, he’d smirk, shifting his hips just enough to tease you, his cock pressing against all the right spots. “Patience, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice dripping with amusement as you let out a frustrated whimper.

And when he finally indulges you, he leans back on the couch, drink in hand, watching as you take control, bouncing up and down on his cock with reckless abandon. His eyes stay locked on you, hungry and half-lidded, while he takes a slow sip of his drink. The big screen glows in the background, but his full attention is on the way you move, the way you moan his name like it’s the only word you know.

“Look at you,” he’d groan, his voice low and thick. “So fucking desperate for me, riding my cock like a good girl. Keep going, baby—show me how much you need it.” And when you finally fall apart, trembling in his lap, he’ll just chuckle, pulling you close to kiss you as if rewarding you for putting on the perfect show.

— He’s the kind of man who makes your whole body burn. His panting breaths, low grunts, and the slick sheen of sweat gliding down his chiseled abs are enough to drive you mad. His hand pushes back his messy hair, but that one strand falls stubbornly over his forehead, making him look devastatingly wrecked as his tired, lust-heavy eyes lock onto yours. Each deep thrust is accompanied by a guttural sound from deep in his chest, the intensity in his gaze leaving you utterly undone. He’d lift you like you weigh nothing, slamming you onto the bed with a feral growl. His tie is gone in seconds, ripped away and tossed aside as his jaw clenches, every move commanding your attention and submission.

You were utterly wrecked beneath him, legs spread wide on his bed, your body trembling as his fingers plunged into you, hitting every spot that made your back arch off the sheets. His smirk was downright sinful as he watched you fall apart, his voice low and teasing.

“Feel good, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The way your thighs quivered and your nails dug into his back said it all. He chuckled when all you could do was nod, your breathless moans spilling out as his fingers worked you mercilessly. You’d already cum twice, your mind foggy and body pliant, but he wasn’t done with you. His dark, lust-filled eyes pinned you in place, making you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and it only made you crave him more.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby. Can’t have my girl getting hurt when I stretch this pretty little pussy out.” His words were sweet and filthy all at once, paired with soft kisses along your jaw and forehead that contrasted with the way his fingers fucked into you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate, he unzipped himself, letting his cock spring free, already slick with precum. He stroked himself slowly, teasing you as your eyes went wide, taking in how thick and hard he was.

“See this, baby? All of it’s for you.”

As he pressed into you, inch by inch, your walls stretched to take him, the fullness almost too much to bear. You cried out, clutching at him, but he only groaned deeply, his voice husky. “Fuck… this tight little pussy was made for me,” he rasped, his hips sinking into you completely.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your lips as he leaned in to kiss you deeply. His thrusts started slow, deliberate, every movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“fuck, you’re perfect… so good for me, taking every inch like the sweet little slut you are.” His praise was filthy, his tone raw, and the way his body pinned yours down left you completely at his mercy.

HI I'M BACK! also Happy new year everyone! Which person should i do next? Thanos? Salesman? Player 333? Lmk!

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual tension, eventually explicit sex, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed ass whipped ass Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing - lowkey Yandere fkn Gojo hehe. Light angst, some fluff, heavy smut, lots of teasing. This part- Making out, Gojo snorting coke off bodies, touching, teasing, and masturbation (phone sex) -WC this part- 7.2k wc

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X!!! based on Satoru from Pour it Up (Sukuna's story) You can read it alone! Reblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoyy!

Playlist- masterlist - Part two>>>

part one

If there was one thought running through the pretty head of Satoru Gojo’s, it’s not -sexy- the strippers dancing all around them. It’s not- thrilling- speaking of doing runs and deals. It’s not- addictive- even as he’s snorting coke off a pretty stripper’s thigh. It’s not- flattering even as he can clearly feel her heat, see her dilated eyes, the way she bites her lip.

Sure, he loves women.

Sure, he loves coke.

Sure, he loves his lifestyle, a mostly carefree mafia King, who lets people do most of the work for him. His best friend Suguru, his right hand man Sukuna, and his other partner Toji, the four of them ran this city. But it’s not- power that runs through Gojo’s head, though he enjoys that too.

The thought constantly in Satoru Gojo’s mind is…

Boring.

He leans back even now, sighing as the coke hits his nostrils, then he laps up that residue with a quick kiss with his pouty lips, the stripper gasps just a bit, and he touches her thigh, seeing a glimmering of slick from just that. Gojo loves to fuck, especially when it means nothing, when he can just let go and feel whatever he needs to in that moment.

But, even that, as he brushes his thumb across it, watching the pretty girl’s head fall to the side, her hips arch, even that has become…

Boring.

This meeting is boring, as he now smiles and winks at her, and she blushes, giggling and running to grab him another drink. His friends, they’re so…

Boring.

Business this, their territory that, what the Kamo family is doing, what the fucked ass Zenin are up to. What they need to do in order to produce enough to keep clientele satisfied. Who owes who money, who needs a lesson, and who needs protection- Satoru is happy to protect his town, his city, what is his as the top mafia family there is- or was.

The Gojo family.

But, as head of it now, it’s the last thing he really wants, in fact he has everything a man could want, endless amounts of money, loyal friends, women, pure cocaine that could help him forget the gnawing feeling deep inside. What is it? He tries not to think, as he crosses his ankle over his knee in his three piece suit, tugging at his skinny black tie, contemplating Sukuna’s words.

“The Zenin are more on the alert than ever.” He grumbles, sighing a bit as a girl hands him a drink, but he refrains from going near any of them really, hopelessly whipped by his new girlfriend. Satoru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s eye roll. “Out with it, Gojo.”

“You’re so whipped it’s really cute.” Sukuna’s jaw locks, standing, Satoru’s maniacally giggling, as Suguru and Toji sigh.

“Whipped!?”

“Completely, but I like this side of you. All soft-” Sukuna snatches Satoru up by his collar, earning Satoru’s glinting grin under red lights. “Aw, what’s wrong buddy?”

“It’s not being whipped it’s-”

“Whipped.” Toji earns Sukuna’s ire, as Suguru sighs and shakes his raven haired head, brushing it back a bit. “Sorry, but the kid’s right.”

Gojo snorts at Toji, rolling his pretty blue eyes. “A kid? I’m twenty seven, how is that a kid, old man.”

“Old man, the fuck?” Toji’s jaw locks, scar stretching over his lip, Satoru just smirks.

“Will you all focus?” Suguru asks with a sigh, smiling and lapping some salt off a stripper’s chest, before downing his shot, moaning as he gulps it.

“It’s boring. Ah, thanks, sweets.” Satoru smiles as the dancer hands him a drink now, and he sips it, wincing. “Ugh, not sweet enough.”

Satoru stands, and Sukuna raises a brow. “The fuck, you need even fruitier of a drink? Such a lil bitch drink already.”

“Fuck you, I like sweet things.” Satoru smiles and tilts the stripper’s chin up, watching a blush decorate her cheeks as he giggles. “I’ll go grab one, let you all keep being boring.”

“Oh whatever, Satoru.” He hears as he saunters off, determined to get a much sugarier concoction, as he steps through the club, familiar scenes unfolding, the glimmering lights bouncing off semi-naked bodies. Men with their wallets emptied, girls dealing coke baggies with bottles.

It was surely one of the places he enjoyed, it served as such a good front, along with the Casino he and Suguru ran, and many, many other ventures. A life constantly bustling from place to place, in the back of limos, women everywhere, but something yet again, even with the thrumming music of this club, just seems so boring.

That is, until he sees this girl, gorgeous but she doesn’t quite fit in, despite a banging body in fishnets that glimmer with little gems under the black lights, black booty shorts that showed much of those thighs, and a sexy little boostier. The lace cupping her breasts alone makes his cock twitch, just that!? A man who has naked women in front of him constantly.

But nothing is quite like when his blue eyes trail up her chest, past those pretty titties pushed up, to her face, lit up under the flashing reflections above. She’s biting her lower lip, concentrating, brows together as just a strand of hair falls out of it’s high pony tail, and she blows it away, an adorable little gesture. Her little hands are pouring bottles, as she measures this drink like a damn chemist.

But when her eyes catch his?

When your eyes catch his?

Sparkling and open, just a little nervous as you eye him, there’s something that sparks then, this…

He’s not bored.

Not at all.

You see him, this tall statuesque man, brightly glowing damn near with silvery white hair, but his eyes even in the dark, smoky club are so intense it makes you breathless. And he’s looking right at you, a bright pink drink in one of his giant hands, lithe body frozen just for a moment before he moves. You wait with bated breath as he does, as he steps closer, shooting you a little smirk.

His eyes glint with something deep- at first he seemed detached when you’d seen him, but now, swirling storms for eyes, model cheekbones even more accentuated as he smiles at you. Plump, glossy lips and long snowy lashes complete the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, perhaps even prettier than a painting, a silly thing for a bartender to think.

He leans with his elbows on the marble bar, tilting his head, blue eyes drinking you in, and you feel it like a physical touch. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” You manage to murmur, trying to be teasing, but his intensity makes your breath catch.

“I’d remember you. I’m sure.” His words like some sultry purr, as his eyes caress your body, to the point you almost moan.

Fuck, who is he?

“I am new.” You say softly, he hands you his glass then, for a brief moment your fingers brush against each other, and Satoru feels this shock, like static, as he keeps his fingers over yours.

He vividly pictures it then, having you, but fuck not having you… he wanted to have you in every fucking way. Feral from fingers brushing when he just had a stripper all over him. His lips part as he sees your cheeks heat up, your tentative and sweet little smile, while lights dance across your skin, the thrumming of music fading to the background.

It’s like some fucking movie, in slow motion, as your smile melts him. “How about you make me a drink, huh sweetheart? Ya any good at it?”

“How do you like it… Mr…”

“Gojo.” You blink in recognition, everyone knows the Gojo family, though heavy in crime, they protect people, they keep their town safe. They’re insanely powerful, and you can feel his power, as he shrugs a broad shoulder, snowy lashes lowering over his gaze.

“Mr. Gojo…”

“And you are?” When you say your name, he repeats it, softly, and you’ve never fucking heard anything better. “Well, let’s see what you can make, pretty bartender.”

Pretty.

The word is used often, but from him? Your tummy is full of rapidly flapping wings of several butterflies. You clear your throat a bit, taking the glass now. “What kind of drink, Mr. Gojo?”

“Something sweet… sweet as… I bet you taste.” You barely hear the words at the end, and you blink in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Huh?” He grins then, throwing his head back, resting a hip on the bar as he studies you harder. “You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm.” He just grins, as you make his drink, mixing every sweet concoction you know, he sips it then, moaning and fluttering his lashes.

“Perfect.”

“You’re special, the first drink I made.”

Satoru leans far too close over that bar, as he eyes you, and he knows then, he has to fucking have you. Fuck he’d not even let you leave his damn bed, keep you pinned under him, picturing how sweet you must taste, god how you even smell when he inhales near you is addictive.

“Are you… sniffing me, Mr. Gojo?”

He smirks a bit, but inwardly?

God you smell good.

“Perfume? Is it… Versace bright Crystal?”

“How would you know that?” He’s just grinning, sipping the drink with the thin little black straw, as you wonder just… who is he?

“I’ll see you around, sweets, hmm?” You nod curiously, narrowing your eyes just a bit, sighing as he walks away, you don’t see him when he eyes you again, before stepping back into the velvet red of the VIP room.

“Took you long enough.” Toji grumbles, and Satoru looks at Sukuna then, one question in his mind, along with one thought.

The boredom?

Gone.

“Who’s the new girl?” Sukuna turns towards him, a smirk on his face, which immediately changes as his girlfriend steps in right next to Satoru, he swears Sukuna has heart eyes. Satoru looks at her as she smiles brightly, giving him a hug first, making Satoru grin at Sukuna when he scowls.

“Satoru!”

“Hey pookie how are you?” He smiles and pats her head. Satoru and Sukuna's girl had become close. “How's it living with this psycho?”

“She loves it.” Sukuna huffs and drags her away, earning the soft laughter of everyone in the room as she's sat right on his lap, brushing his hair back affectionately. Strong, tough, big ass Sukuna was just a little kitten for her. “Tell him about the new girl, brat.”

“Oh!” She repeats the name, your name, and Satoru brightens up. Sipping the sweet drink you concocted and exhaling at how good it is. “She's a friend from way back, she got into… a hard situation. So Kuna hired her because he's sweet.”

“Tch.” He glares at her as she giggles, and suddenly Satoru wonders even more about you. What situation? What did you need it for? “You like her huh?”

“Just curious, she seems…” Different, exciting, beautiful sure but there was something so intriguing, especially about her touch.

“Pretty?” Toji says with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Duh, just curious… she makes the sweetest drink I've ever had.”

“The way to Satoru’s heart.” Suguru says with a chuckle. Satoru comes back to sit next to him, shaking his head when a girl comes to him

“No thanks, love.” The room collectively blinks at him now, as Satorus pretty eyes rest on Sukuna’s girl, a dancer herself… well somewhat. It's not like Sukuna let's her leave his sight much. “She's your friend?”

“Yes from high school, she left and did her own thing but…” She bites her lower lip. “Um, her mom got into some… bad debts with people, gambling.”

“Oh, she's like Toji.” Sukuna mutters, earning a middle finger from the gruff man, even as he's kissing up a girl's neck.

“Fuck off.” He grumbles, and Satoru would laugh, but he's even more intrigued. “Paid my debts, shithead.”

“Shithead!?”

“So she came to help?” Satoru asks her, and she nods, smiling just a little sadly.

“Her mom left her with a house about to get foreclosed. And debt with… I can't get into too much more. But she works full time and it's only enough for bills, not the debt.”

“So she's working like what, 60 plus hours?” Satoru asks, and she nods with a frown.

“I'm hoping here she'll make enough to get it settled? Kuna may help negotiate-”

“Who is it?”

“Why so curious?” She asks, as her eyes light up. “Oh… you like her.”

“I just… am a curious boy mmkay pookie?” She giggles and then Suguru snorts in laughter next to Satoru.

“He's blushing.”

“Am not! Just… something about her seemed… different. I was curious. Is she…”

“Single? Satoru Gojo is asking that?” Toji says then, and Satoru’s eyes narrow.

“Shut it old man.”

Toji’s jaw tenses. “I swear to-”

“Ask her yourself, hmm?” Sukunas girl says, Satoru sighs, because for the first time ever he feels a little…

Nervous?

Satoru Gojo is nervous, hands sweaty, blushing over you.

Who are you?

“I mean can we… get her in the next meeting?”

“Sure lover boy.” Sukuna says with a chuckle. “Want her on your lap?”

“Maybe. Yes.” The room's atmosphere is just a little lighter, as they finish and Satoru finally heads out for the night, turning a corner and bumping right into you, causing you to almost fall, but he catches you with those big hands, steadying you carefully.

“I'm so sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You murmur softly, god your voice is pretty, it's soft and sensual. He could listen to it all day- wildly wondering how it sounds when you’d cry out his name, to the point he’s just standing there for a moment, as your eyes meet, and he notices now, you have dark circles under them. It seems whatever concealer you had faded by now.

“You headed home?” He asks, seeing you’re now wearing a jacket over that bustier, and you nod a bit, hiding a yawn.

“Yeah, I have to work at like eight am.”

Gojo blinks now, peering at his silver Rolex. “It’s like two am, what sleep are you gonna get?”

“A couple hours I hope.” Satoru holds the door open for you now, and you give him another pretty smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll walk you to your car, unless you want big Jim to.” He points to a giant broad shouldered man, you giggle, looking back at Gojo, who has a little mischievous glow in his eyes now.

“I’ll let you walk me, thank you.” He slings his jacket over a shoulder, holding it with one finger, the other in his pocket, as the breeze gently blows around the two of you in the quiet night.

“How many nights are you working?” He asks, you tilt your head a bit as you come to your car, a little one good on gas, really the only reason you got it.

“I’ll be working Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Do you come here often?” Satoru snorts now, leaning down over you, free hand against your car as he leans, making your heart hammer in your chest at the proximity, eying his glossy lips.

“That a pick up line, sweets?”

“What!? Oh shit… it sounded like one!?” You cover your face in embarrassment, and he chuckles now.

“Teasing you is all. I do come here a lot, I know who I’ll be getting drinks from then. That was the best one I’ve had.”

“What no way!” He just grins as you lower your hands, a little bit of your hair falling out of your pony tail again, he brushes it away casually, tucking it behind your ear, his cool fingertips making your skin tingle. He watches the hitch of your breath, feels the heat of your cheek as you look at him, wide eyed.

“You kept blowing it out of the way.” He teases softly, fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment.

“You noticed that?” You ask softly, feeling your heart thrumming with excitement despite your exhaustion.

“Noticed you also bite your lip too much.” He brushes a thumb over it briefly, shooting desire hot through your tummy.

You hadn’t even thought of sex or intimacy, as tired as you have been, working full time and taking overtime constantly, finally having this job as well, you haven’t even considered your needs. So tired you barely get horny, but something about this… Mr. Gojo, it’s making you ache to yank him by that tie, pull him in.

Do you even remember how to be seductive?

Why are you thinking like this?

“Do I?” You ask, all you manage really, and he nods just a bit, dying to kiss the indentations on your plump lower lip.

“Sure you’re okay to drive? I have a driver.”

“Oh no I’m good, I didn't have a drink or anything. But thank you, I hope… I hope I see you again… um to make more drinks?”

You’re cute.

Fuck you’re cute.

“You’ll see me around.” He assures you, opening the door then, and you exhale a bit, sliding into your seat and starting the car. “Have a good night, bartender.”

“Bartender huh?” He winks and you wave just a bit, leaving Satoru whistling just a bit, shaking his head, unable to figure out just what this is, this feeling, as Suguru walks out, yawning and stretching.

“Oh shit, that look.”

“What look?” He asks, as they walk to their sleek black car, the driver ready holding the door open for them.

“That obsessive Satoru look.”

“Oh psh.” He rolls his pretty blue eyes, but Suguru just chuckles.

“She is pretty.”

Satoru scowls at his best friend now, who’s just smirking at him. “Don’t even think about it.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I’m not… obsessive.”

“Mmm, alright Satoru.” He pats Satoru’s shoulder as he looks at his phone now, typing in your name casually of course- to find your socials, and any pictures of you he can save.

******

After busting your ass at your normal 9 to 5, you ran your mom’s interest payment to the intimidating Mei Mei, she’s smiling cooly, so fucking fake it makes your skin crawl, raising a brow under her light blue hair as she sees the amount. “Oh, darling, that's double, hmm?”

“I had the extra, took another job.” You yawn as you peek at your phone, realizing you have to get ready for the bar soon.

“I see, should I charge you more for each installment, since you’re doing so well now?” You blink now, shaking your head and earning her soft laugh, as she stands, tall and curvaceous, hips swaying as she tilts your chin up, long nails brushing your skin. “I was kidding, that face!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Mei. I swear I’ll try to do double but could we keep to the current please?” She nods a bit then, smiling and sauntering back to her desk, sitting on it and crossing her leg, blue dress riding up just a bit.

“I don’t mind helping, as long as you keep paying. You sure are a lot better than your mother. How is she?”

Your jaw sets. The moment your mother left town, and left you with all this debt after begging you to come back, under false pretenses, your life had become an endless cycle of pure work. Work, work, work, and nothing else, that was it.

Work. Bills. Interest.

Work, more work, more interest.

The only break had been meeting him, at the bar, Mr. Gojo.

“Smiling, darling?” You clear your throat, shaking your head.

“Just happy I’m getting this done.”

“That’s the spirit, see you next week.” She now hops down, dismissing you with a little wave of her fingers, as you hurriedly leave, leaning against the door of the fancy building as you damn near feel sick, sighing and trying to gather yourself.

You want to resent your mother, want to hate her even, but you don’t have it in you. There’s just one thing on your mind, work, work, and work. The handsome man at the bar may be a beautiful distraction, but he’d surely just stay that, the little bit of serotonin you need.

******

“On your lap?” You blink a bit, as Satoru’s grinning, leaning over the bar later that night, looking far too sexy in that pinstripe suit of his.

“So usually the strippers do, but I’d really like you too, and you will make more than you do in an hour. How much do you usually make?” You murmur a number, and he hands you hundreds instead.

“You can’t!”

“I’m taking your work time, I damn well will. Here, take it sweets.” You sigh, stepping out from behind the bar, crossing your arms under your breasts and looking up at him.

“I just, sit on your lap?”

“Well, you may have to… let me snort coke off you?” You’re a blushing mess now, and he’s laughing softly, brushing your hair back just a bit. “Just a little coke.”

“You’re kind of insane, Mr. Gojo.”

“I’ve been told. Come on, what do you say?”

So… that’s how you ended up here, in the velvety red VIP room, Toji, Sukuna, Suguru and Satoru of course are there, you see your friend on Sukuna’s lap, the lifesaver who got you this job, who waves from where she’s on his lap. You smile nervously, as Satoru sits, patting his thigh then.

“C’mon, got a seat right here.” He says with a wink, and the next few minutes you’re finding it impossible to focus.

You can feel it, Satoru’s muscled thigh against your heat, pussy throbbing around nothing at this proximity, as Sukuna, Suguru and Toji all talk amongst themselves, Toji and Suguru have stripper’s on their laps, Sukuna has your friend- his girl- on his. And you’re right here, with Satoru’s big hand against your waist, fingers wrapping around the gentle curve of it.

You try to bite back a moan at just how good it feels, and you embarrassingly wonder if he can tell, if he can feel how wet you are, surely not you hope. He’s calmly talking as he shifts his thigh just a bit, and you have to hold in your gasp, your booty shorts aren’t enough of a damn barrier, surely, not for how his thigh presses up for a moment.

“You good, sweetheart?” He murmurs to you softly, and you turn your attention to him, blinking just a bit, lips parted.

“Huh?” Is all you manage, his full lips tilt up just a bit as he tilts his head, his other hand now on your fishnet clad thigh.

“Lots of heavy topics, too much?” He’s so sweet you think, as if the problem isn’t you’re soaking your shorts, and no you didn’t even have panties on to try to help whatsoever, in such a hurry you hadn’t washed any and said fuck it.

Big mistake.

“Oh, a little bit.” You are such a liar, but what do you say? Yes, Satoru, your thigh is making me want to grind on it, to make myself cum like some pathetic-

“Try to tone 'em out, it’s what I do.” He says with a wink, and you laugh softly, breathless, as if you’d heard a word any of them said, no… your pulse is racing too loudly to hear them.

“Got it, Mr. Gojo.” He takes the little baggie one of the strippers has then, brushing your hair back off your shoulder, watching goosebumps raise across your neck, your collar bone so inviting he wants to bury his face against it.

“The Zenin are now a bigger issue than ever, they perceive that Sukuna literally took Naoya’s girl and his kid.” You frown a bit, looking over at Sukuna, who’s gripping his girl so tightly, scowling, while Toji speaks. “I know it’s not that way, but it’s what we’re up against.”

“So we fucking take em all out.” Sukuna throws back a shot, and his girl shakes her head.

“Kuna…”

“Don’t you fuckin’ Kuna me.”

“They’re cute.” Satoru murmurs, you nod in agreement, as you watch her make this giant man melt.

“They are.”

“Is right here alright?” His thumb brushes your collarbone, and you flush nervously, eyes lowering shyly as you nod. “Never done anything like this, hmm?’

“No, not at all.” You look around as the other men are doing so, however, and tilt your neck just a bit. “But I trust you.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, you exhale, when he taps some of the ivory powder across your skin. “Stay still for me, pretty?”

Pretty.

God when he calls you pretty.

Your heart pounds out of its chest damn near when he’s gently lining it up, one hand gently brushing up your back as he leans over with a rolled one hundred, snorting it right off your skin. Something about it, snorting coke off your body, makes Satoru even harder than he already was, especially when he hears the softest of whimpers from your pretty throat.

“Fuck…” He wonders if he says it out loud, but you don't respond, still as he had commanded you to be, making him wonder wildly just how much you’d listen.

If he told you to hold these sexy thighs open, if he told you to bend over and arch your ass, if he said get on your knees. Would you obey him?

Once the powder is up his nose, his snowy lashes flutter shut, letting it run through his system, and he moans just ever so softly, before lapping up the residue from your throat. Your hand grips his hair unconsciously, without even thinking, hips shifting so he feels that heat on his thigh, making him leak precum.

You’re trembling just a bit as the tip of his tongue slips up the curve of your neck, a hand slipping up your thigh, thumb pressing under one of the diamond openings of the stockings, brushing bare skin. Your breasts are damn near in his face as they rise and fall in the thin black halter you’re wearing, nipples poking out with how they’re tightening.

He presses a little kiss on your neck with plump lips, and instead of smirking at you like he would, he can’t form a coherent thought - all he can think is he needs you, beyond a want. He needs to bite your neck and mark you up for him so beautifully, so much so none of that concealer you wear would work, no you’d have to take days off, finally relax so good with him rubbing every inch.

It’s like the room fades for you, you can’t remember there are strippers, that there are mobsters, that your friend is there, it’s all this man that’s practically a stranger, who you for some reason trust to snort this powder off you. His lips linger far too long, before he pulls back, blue eyes so dark they’re black, his pupils dilated, with a mix of cocaine and desire.

“Woah, you need the room?” Toji mentions, earning your blush, but Satoru can’t stop staring, at that vein in your neck just pulsing, aching to bite it, like some psychotic feral vampire. He feels things right now he never has, not the casual desire, not the ease of having a woman, he wants to bite, kiss and lick every goddamn inch of this sexy body shifting again on him.

“We’re actually almost finished if you can focus a moment, Satoru.” Suguru says as he pinches his nose a bit, tilting his head back and letting his own line hit.

Satoru clears his throat, gently pulling you just a bit more up his hard thigh, smiling at them all. “Go on, finish the boring shit.”

“It’s not exactly boring, Satoru. Considering we need to meet with them.”

“The Zenin?” Suguru nods, and Satoru’s jaw clenches.

“Let’s meet with the Kamo family first.” Sukuna suggests, pressing a kiss on his own girl’s neck, as she strokes back his pink locks, making Satoru ache for this from you, for everything from you. “We can see if potentially they’ll be on our side.”

“Shit, it’s a good idea.” Toji sips on his beer now, laughing as he presses it between his stripper thighs, grinning lewdly.

“I’m down for that first if everyone is in agreement. Satoru?” Suguru asks, and Satoru tries to focus on all this boring shit, when he’s much rather finger the slick he feels gathering against his expensive slacks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll set it up.” He mumbles, and you look at him, your eyes dilated like his, but without any drug, it’s just pure want. Fucked up off his energy. “I can send everyone the details.”

“Sounds good.” Everyone gets up now, and Satoru holds you down just a bit longer, as they’re laughing and talking, heading out to the bar, he turns you to the side just a bit, tilting up your chin, hair falling down your back, brushing against where he has his arm against your back.

“You alright, sweets? That’s a lot to handle.” You blink just a bit, flushing as you shyly nod. “Ya sure?”

“I didn’t hear much.” You admit, and he exhales, his hand slipping back up your thigh, waiting for you to say something, to push off his hand, but you just watch him, eyeing him carefully, legs spreading just a bit. “I was distracted.”

“Yeah? By what, hmm?” You look away, so shy, he chuckles, leaning even closer to you. “You’re so cute.”

“You say that.”

“You are.”

“These dark circles sexy?”

“On you.”

“Mr. Gojo…” You lean closer yourself now, shifting your hips just a bit, earning his soft moan as he feels that wetness pouring against him.

“Need something, love? A thank you?”

“You gave me hundreds to be here, it’s already too generous. Why… um did you?” You ask curiously, and he looks down a bit, at your lips.

“I heard you work a lot, and can’t miss shifts. I didn’t wanna make you lose out on tips.”

“That’s so…” You’re blown away then. “I really appreciate it, but you wouldn’t have had to pay me to sit on your lap.”

“Oh yeah?” You bite your lower lip, shaking your head, when his hand slips even higher, and he eats up every bit of your expression, like you’re just as drunk off him as he is off you.

“I’m sure no girl has ever needed to get paid on your lap, Mr. Gojo.”

“My name, it’s Satoru.” You brush your hair back a bit, letting silken strands flow through your fingers, as Satoru’s hand is at the apex of your thighs, his thumb brushing right against where you’re soaked, eliciting a soft whine.

“C-can I call you that, though?”

“You can…” His thumb brushes your clit now, and you moan out loud, covering your mouth, but it’s too late, he heard it, thumb pressing where you’re sticky and so hot he can’t take it. “You’re soaked, baby girl.”

“Embarrassing… I’m so-”

“No, fuck it’s sexy.” You’re blushing further, so overheated as your thighs spread, and he moans, lips an inc from yours. “Satoru, say it.”

“Sa-”

“Are you coming Satoru?” Suguru peers in, and you quickly hop up, as Satoru considers killing his best friend. “We gotta - shit… didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no it’s fine!” You’re quickly walking out, and Satoru literally has to turn and adjust himself, groaning, head falling back.

“Shit, my bad Satoru.”

“I’ll kill you, Suguru.” He grumbles, shoving at his friend just a bit. “Let me say goodbye to her first.”

“Calling it a goodbye?”

“Fuck off, Sugu.” He’s shoving his friend, as he catches sight of you rushing to the locker rooms.

You’re splashing cool water on your neck, on your face, you don’t even recognize yourself in that mirror, with the desire making your face look like you’re lit off your ass, like you’re drugged from that cocaine on your skin. You can’t even be thinking of this, not with who you’re dealing with right now, not with all your shit, all the work you have to do.

Satoru’s beautiful but…

You’ve never been one to fuck randoms, you’re unfortunately a person that needs feelings, and fuck if you don’t already have feelings that make no sense for someone you barely know. Something about him beyond model good looks, beyond that clear confidence, something about his touch sending those shocks through you, shocks that make no sense.

The door opens, and instead of one of the girls, or even Sukuna or Toji, it’s Satoru, disheveled hair spiked up, his eyes bright fucking blue in the lights of the locker room, looking right at you. You turn back to the mirror, hastily fixing your hair, trying to act normal.

“Leaving for the night?” You ask, voice hoarse just a bit, as you ache to say so much more, but he’s walking to you, long strides, until he’s right in front of you, cupping your face with one of those big hands, exhaling sweet cool breath against your lips.

“I want you to sit on my lap during the next meeting, yeah?”

“Satoru…”

“I’ll pay more.”

“What!? Why?” You ask again, curiously, and he sighs.

“I like you there.” His vulnerability shocks you. “Meetings, business, life? It’s so fucking boring. With you it’s…”

“Different?”

“Yes, different. I can’t really… will you?” You nod then, shyly, earning his big grin. “Also, I want you to take a day off.”

“What? Off here?”

“No, your normal job. Here, for next time.” He hands you hundreds, and you shake your head, but he takes it and slips it right in your bra, backs of his fingers brushing against your breasts, eliciting a whimper. “Shit…”

“You can’t give me all this. And… taking a day off, I-”

“Fine then leave early or some shit. Just… you look like you could use a little break?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me for working a lot.” You frown a bit, and Satoru imagines just how little you’ll ever have to do, when you’re his.

“I admire it, shit. Swear I don’t feel bad for you. Just know, that’s pennies to me, okay? And I enjoyed your… I enjoyed you there.”

You smile a bit, as the cash presses against your skin, and you step closer. “Can I hug you?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You both giggle, and you’re looking down shyly. “Just a kiss?” Satoru presses you against the counter, his hard body hot against yours.

“Pick which lips you want kissed.” His voice is husky, as he presses a thigh between yours, and you can’t stop the soft cry that elicits from your mouth.

“Satoru…”

“I’m serious. I can put a kissy on each lips, baby girl.” He’s tilting your chin up, and you lick your lower lip nervously, as swirling blue eyes drink you in.

“Why me? You can have… anyone.”

“You’re not just anyone. But also… have you seen you?”

“Yes, silly. I look tired.”

“Psh, pick it, where you want your thank you kiss.” You brush against his thigh, and he leans down, hungrily kissing you, and then it’s over for Satoru.

When your lips, so plush and pliant under his part just a bit, your cute little gasp, his tongue slips in past the seam, and you’re whining out softly, hands clinging to his dress shirt, earning him pressing that thigh harder. You’re grinding on it, fucking shameless as your tongues meet, at first tentative on your end, but Satoru consumes your damn mouth, your everything.

He’s moaning, damn near whimpering, a hand entangling in your hair, pulling just a bit as you roll your hips. “Shit, gonna grind on my leg like that? Even wetter than that whole meeting, huh?”

“Shh, w-wasn’t…” He smiles against your lips, kissing you deeper and deeper, as you grind, damn near about to cum from the friction.

“I can take care of-”

“Ahem.” Toji and Sukuna walk in then, and Satoru exhales, resting his forehead for a moment, against yours, as your breaths mingle, thoughts wild.

Satoru Gojo is dangerous, right?

He runs the Gojo Mafia, right?

Then why is he so sweet, so caring, so… fuck, he’s thoughtful. And every bit of his danger makes you crave him even more, like a moth drawn to his bright light, the beauty of him was just a small part of it. You ached to be consumed by him, fucked until you have no more thoughts.

Not all the damn money you owe Mei Mei.

Not the responsibilities thrown all over you from your mom.

You want to be thrown in every position for this man, submit yourself to anything he wants, and the thoughts are making your brain hurt. You take a shaky breath as he pulls back finally, easing a thigh back when you see it, a slight darkening, of where you’d soaked him with your cunt. Panicking, he just turns a bit, brushing it with his thumb, putting it to his lips.

“Shit, ya’ll need a room?” Sukuna asks, as Satoru’s eyes flutter shut, and his cheeks hollow as he sucks you off him.

“We got VIP rooms, ya know. Should charge Gojo for em.” Toji teases, but Satoru is gripping your face again, making you feel like the only damn thing in the world.

“I’ll be here Thursday, take that next day off, yeah?” You nod shyly, as he then whips out his phone, handing it to you. “In case you need anything.”

“Oh… thank you.” You scan the little code, entering his number in your phone with a shaky hand, and he smiles, eyes lingering.

“Night, sweets.”

“Night, Satoru.” You murmur, as he walks out then, you damn near collapse on this counter, head leaned back, finally alone for a moment.

Satoru Gojo, who is he.

Is he the guy that runs with people like Mei, or is he different? He feels different, he seems different…

Later that night you can’t get him out of your damn mind, tossing and turning, you only have a couple hours to sleep, ever, and you can’t be spending this just thinking of Satoru all damn night. You finally bite your lower lip, shooting him a little text, hoping it wouldn’t wake him up.

You: Good night, Mr. Gojo.

Satoru: You know it’s Satoru, hmm? Can’t sleep?

You: A lot on my mind… but thank you for today, you didn’t have to.

Satoru: That’s nothing to thank me over. But, you’re welcome, have sweet dreams… of me.

You giggle then, shaking your head, and biting your thumb just a bit.

You: Only if you dream of me.

Satoru: You think I haven’t already?

You cover your face, damn near squealing, fuck he makes you feel like some little high school girl, giggling as she hears her crush on the phone. Your hands are shaking just a bit as you contemplate what to say. You are terrified to bring anyone into the shitshow that’s your life, your mom coming in and out, taking money and disappearing, your brother coming too, begging for money.

You have a mess of a life, with a cruel woman after you, threatening you constantly, and you’re scared to open up, to be happy, even for a moment. But when he texts you next, you can’t stop your heart from racing.

Satoru: You know, masturbation relaxes me, knocks me right out.

You: Oh does it now?

Satoru: Try it and let me know next time you see me.

As Satoru speaks, he’s picturing you, and he can’t stop himself from stroking his cock slowly, up and down, as he’s riding in the back of his limo, finally all alone, fuck just your three dots typing and the memory of your taste are more than enough. His head falls back as he does, stroking his cock up and down, twisting and whimpering just so, when you finally type back.

You: Hmm… it is a little relaxing.

Satoru almost loses his shit, picturing how pretty your pussy must look.

Satoru: Giving it a shot? Listening, like a good girl?

Good girl, shit. You’re whining as you run circles over your clit, and you can’t type anymore, and Satoru notices, calling you now, shocking you. “S-Satoru?”

“Lemme give you pointers.” He says huskily, and you hear him, grunting just so, making you cry out.

“What? Are you…”

“So you get good sleep, you know- f-fuck. Rub little circles on that clit, hmm sweetheart?”

“Fuck…”

“You cuss?” He asks with a breathless laugh, hearing your whine on the phone, as your fingers get slippery. “If I wasn’t going out of town I’d come right over, make sure you’re doing it right.”

“Oh, would you? What if… I w-wasn’t, ngh!” Shit, Satoru’s about to bust just hearing your breathy cry.

“I’d have to show you how, baby girl. For your sleep, you know. Maybe use my fingers, bet yours don’t hit hmm? So tiny.”

“Mnh… Y-you would?”

“Let you use my thigh.”

“Satoru!”

“My face?”

“Fuck!” You’re screaming out as your little clit twitches, just edging him to moan, pumping cum all down his hand, he groans at it, at the flooding of sensations, his head falling forward, seeing the endless white cum spurting out his pretty pink tip. “S-sorry, I don’t usually cuss I s-swear… or d-do this…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you deserve some relaxation, hmm?” His murmur makes you ache for him, as you wonder…

What is this?

He just makes you let go.

You exhale now, struggling to right yourself, adjusting your shorts, sticky just a bit, as Satoru’s wiping himself um, moaning softly. “I’ve never done this.”

“You’re so cute. So fun to corrupt.”

“Oh!”

He’s laughing softly, zipping himself back up, as he aches for you, more and more. “I’ll see you soon, maybe I’ll show you some pointers.”

“You’re so sure of yourself hmm?”

“I’m Satoru Gojo, baby girl.” But he’s not sure of himself, he’s not sure he’d last long inside your cunt, god he imagines it’s perfect, he can’t get it out of his head, those moans, those whines, that liquid heat on his thigh.

“Satoru, wherever you’re going, be safe.” Your thoughtfulness touches him then, sure he has some friends, but no one says - stay safe. He’s momentarily stunned, hearing your yawn then, smiling at it.

“Of course I will be. See, masturbation, the cure.”

You giggle, shaking your head as you yawn once more, feeling your eyelids get heavy. “What’s this… mean?”

“That you want me so bad-”

“Satoru!”

“It means you’ll sleep good.” You both laugh softly, and you sigh then.

“Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night, sweets.” He waits for you to end the call, covering his face now, as his cock throbs with aftershocks, and he knows good and damn well it’s not the last time he’d jerk off to you tonight. No, it’s definitely not, he’s in the shower later at the hotel he’s staying at for the night, wishing he could just say fuck all this, and fuck his pretty bartender.

As he lays in the fancy hotel bed, he’s stroking it again, picturing how you’d ride him, how you’d bounce on his cock. The next morning even, he’s stroking it again, until his cock fucking hurts, remembering those moans, those whimpers, those sweet little cries.

Satoru must have you.

A/N - hehe I know it's SO LATE- I'll reblog in the morning <3 I hope you all enjoy- I'm thinking 6 parts or so on this onneee, there is gonna be a lot of drama and a lot of Toru being whipped- this is kinda the intro chap. See you in the comments my lovesss

Taglist#1- @thejujvtsupost @moonchu @thikcems @yenayaps @luvmichu @antisocialinlw @sukunadckrider @gojoslefttoenail @genticcs @sukuxna0 @saitamaswifey @monster-effer @gradmacoco @bounie1 @bestelizabeth1 @alygator77 @arabellasolstice @naina326 @1satoruu @silvarys @feliaeae @jkslaugh97 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @simp-plague @ladyneisa @distractionforyourthoughts @erintaro @ninikrumbs @yesdere @stargirl-mayaa @wstaley2 @just-lilita @lady-of-blossoms @genshingeeksworld @yaoishipper19 @angryflowerwitch @strawberrysluttt @emochosoluvr @bluebrry05 @trishiepo0 @gina239 @bunheadusa @simperisksksk @jud3thedude @breadsbasket @shhhhhhxoxo125 @starpachinko @grayluvsalex

[carebearbussy]

𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 & 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 <3

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your cravings have been going wild.

Ever since you had fallen pregnant by an absolute gargantuan of a man, you are forced to carry twice the amount of nutrients and food stored in your body. The local doctors had recommended that your usual meals be doubled in size, in order to support the extra weight it carried by having a child under Sukuna. And even Sukuna had chimed in, adding that maybe his diet would work for you. But you quickly declined the offer, taking into consideration the life growing inside of you. You did not want your child to grow up to be a cannibalistic monster, much like his father.

But your food choices have been much more bizarre as of lately. Things ranging from huge one course meals that could feed a family of 7, pickled everything, anything covered in cheese, and any regular foods you ate had to be made a specific way, or served in larger portions. Which is why you had decided to wake Sukuna up in the middle of the night, one of the cravings you had pondered on being at the top of your to do list.

Every now and then, your cravings would get really bad. To the point where it was now everybody else's problem. But you truly couldn't help it.

"Kuna, 'Kuna wake up!" You whispered, as you lay spooned beside him. You shook his body from behind you as you spoke, making sure he could hear you. You felt him stretch awake with a low groan, letting you free of his grasp. "Are you awake? Its important..." you ask, awaiting a response out of him. And to your avail, he is awake, but not with the attitude you were initially hoping for. He seemed annoyed that his rest had been interrupted, but those concerns were to be put to rest, as you stepped out of bed, sliding your slippers on by the edge of the bed. He looks at your standing form with half lidded eyes, clearly making the first of many signals of his annoyance with you at the moment.

"What is so important that you wake me from my rest, woman? Im giving you six seconds to speak." He says, as he props himself upwards, sitting at the edge of the bed. With you standing near him, he seizes your hips with his lower set of hands, forcing you into his proximity. "I'm not waiting all day." He ushers you on to speak, but as you think about his possible answer, you start to rethink telling him what you truly want. You look away, clearly starting to get nervous with the attention. But as you do, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look down at him, as he searches for answers. "Go on."

"Well... i've been having cravings lately, and I wanted to know if maybe the kitchen could make me something..." You say, fiddling with your thumbs, as you feel your stomach start to growl lowly. He looks down at your stomach, as you quietly protest his decision to be made. He closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before responding.

"If this is what you really need, then I will indulge this once, brat." He says with a low sigh, as he lets go of his hold on your waist, getting up from his spot on the bed. You look up at him eagerly, silently squealing to yourself as you jump up and down slightly. You wrap your arms around your husbands neck, as you reach up on your tiptoes to pepper kisses all over his defined face. He looks down at your cheerful form, looking unaffected by the attention you give him, but deep down is smiling on the inside. He knows that as long as you stay his sweet, happy wife, then he can get a good nights rest after this.

He picks you up by the back of your thighs, as you are lifted off the ground what seems suddenly. He hoists you on his left side, one hand holding your ass up, the other acting as a back rest. Letting yourself be carried, he opens the door with his right hand, walking into the large hallway to your favorite place since becoming pregnant, the kitchen.

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It seemed as if you had started a national crisis.

With the way you had Uraume, as well as a team of the estates chefs working like dogs in the kitchen. All that could be heard from the upper left wing of the estate was the clinking and clanging of pots and pans, as well as chefs scurrying to prepare the food you had requested. Because it was well known that any request of yours, was to be taken as seriously as if it were from Sukuna.

Uraume seemed to be the only calm one, with them being used to your shenanigans. They were the head of the kitchen, as they lead all of the preparations for the 'big feast', as they like to call it. That big feast being for your pregnant self, of course.

As the kitchen was torn shred by shred trying to prepare you the perfect dish, you stood by the entrance and watched, one hand on your stomach. Standing besides you was Sukuna, with lower arms crossed, as his upper arms conducted the kitchen staff with whats right and wrong. Your eyes lit up with excitement, as you watched all of these people cater to your needs.

"Kuna, how about... chocolate filled dumplings?" You asked, looking up at your focused husband. He was busy keeping an eye on everything, making sure not to mess up your multiple requests you had made in the past twenty minutes. He looks at you with upper set of eyes, his lower ones hyper focused on the kitchen staff.

"That sounds disgusting. But if that is what you wish, so be it." He tells you, scoffing at all of the ridiculous things you had said so far. He then watches as Uraume heads your way, a silver platter in hand, holding what seemed to be at least thirty pieces of bacon, covered in chocolate and sea salt. To any sane person, this would look downright vile. But to you? Sukuna watched as your mouth practically dropped. You squealed in excitement, looking at the dish in hand. "Please enjoy, my lady." Uraume says, still holding out the dish to you as you happily devour it.

But you pause as you look over at Sukuna, still looking down at you. And thats when a lightbulb flicks in your head. You grab a piece of bacon from the tray, as you step in front of Sukuna. He looks down at you, wondering what you're up to, when you reach up on your tippy toes to try and pry open his mouth. "Pleaseeee try it!" You say, pouting your lips, still trying to open his mouth with your fingers. He looks down at you as he furrows his eyebrows, curling his lip upwards. "No, that is repulsive."

Your pout lowers into a full frown, your eyes glossy with the want for him to try what you are offering him. He rolls his eyes, as he picks up the piece of bacon you are holding with two fingers. He looks at it, as he scoffs, swallowing it in one go. "See! Its good right?" You ask him, a smile crossing your face. He looks at you with a 'are you serious?' look, before ruffling your hair, amused with how happy you were that he divulged you.

"It was horrible. Never again are you going to make me do these kinds of things for you, brat."

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[tinystarbites]

accidents | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops [5.5k]

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst mainly Spencer doubting himself aww :(, Spencer is PINING for you hard (haha get it), nudes, Spencer loves you so much, pls someone give him a hug, m!masturbation, talk about sex, proofread but prolly not perfect lol, like you aren't probably ready for the amount of longing in this, *slaps Spencer* this bad boy can fit so much pining and yearning

read pt.II here

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Spencer swears it was an accident.

You were all away on a case, somewhere in Florida. And of course, something like that can only happen in Florida, because as much as he dislikes connecting random events with random locations, non-sequitur fallacy and all that, he cannot not say that many of his most embarrassing moments aren’t attributable to the south-eastern state. (He will not elaborate on these moments, he very much likes to keep most of his dignity still intact, thank you very much.)

But his dignity isn’t really the only thing that had been shattered to pieces by… by the accident. Far from it really and it- well, it- God, this really won’t end well for him, will it? He’s well and truly, as Emily likes to say, fucked.

It happened on the fourth day he and the team were cooped up in a small, dingy police station, chasing down an unsub that liked to paint intricate body art on the victim’s corpses as part of his MO. Aside from, y’know, slitting their throats with what seemed to be an old, rusty saw. The paradoxical duality of these two aspects, of the interplay of carefulness and diligence put into the painting process and the absolute careless way the unsub ends his victims was fascinating really – but not as much as it is disturbing, still.

Thus, this case is a very photography-heavy one. Most of the cases they solve involve photographs of some kinds of course, but Spencer has never sat in front of quite as many pictures of art and gore in his life before. It was strange, to say the least, even to him. Strange and annoying, to be honest.

Because Spencer isn’t exactly fond of all things that come with some electrical inner life, i.e. smartphones, his old brick of a phone isn’t exactly helpful for this case. He still feels the need to roll his eyes at Garcia after she, for the umpteenth time, called him an old grandpa and his phone a potato trying to pass as a phone. And failing miserably, especially when looking at the pictures it takes and their quality. Well, Penelope would say “pictures”, because she would also say that a resolution of beneath 60 PPI should be considered a war crime against modern technology, but Spencer doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that even means, so. Jokes on her.

Well, actually, the joke is on him. And yes, he knows, the joke is almost always on him, he knows his pipe-cleaner physique and too big eyes and long hair and everything about him really, makes him the perfect target for the occasional bullying he gets still as an adult, but he’s used to that. It’s normal, part of his everyday life. He can deal with that (more or less).

What he so brilliantly cannot deal with however, is having you around him almost 24/7. Because Hotch had had the amazing idea of fixing you to his hip as his personal photographer to circumvent his technological potato-problem. Uh- not that you, that you take pictures of him, why would you ever do that, but more like, taking pictures for him. Of their victims. And the body art.

Spencer was actually waiting for your protest, because there seems to be nothing worse for you than to stay inside the office when you could be out there, on the fields, in midst of all the action. Where Spencer usually isn’t. But that’s fine of course. Completely, absolutely fine. Spencer doesn’t look up every time the door to the tiny room he’s set up his camp in opens to see if it’s you bringing him another coffee just the way he likes, if it’s your smile that will make him feel more energized than any overly sweet coffee ever could. If it’s your voice and smell and aura (Penelope is definitely getting into his head) that for the short while you are there, makes everything seem so much more manageable.

It’s an energy burst unlike any other and Spencer is aware of what that means, so aware his body burns with it sometimes… Often. Okay, fine, most of the time. He just prefers to ignore it and enjoy the precarious friendship he built with you for what it is because he just likes to have you around so very much and – this was so not the point he wanted to make. He’s hopeless, when it comes to you, and it really is kind of embarrassing.

So, this is why the joke is so entirely on him that it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s basically bullying, he feels bullied. Because you actually had beamed the prettiest smile he’s ever seen at him, said ‘Oh finally, I can unpack all the dark hidden talents from within me’ which was so cryptic but so you and then you also winked at him. And well, Spencer has to lie if he were to say that he was being totally normal about this. That you didn’t just upheave his insides like an earthquake of magnitude eight with a single wink. Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

The first two days the two of you work side by side proceed without any unforeseen occurrences. And Spencer is so glad about that he could cry. From the moment you had joined the team two years ago, from the moment he met you, it was an undeniable fact that you were nice. Not only that, but truly, selflessly kind in a way that has left him all too choked up to even speak on multiple occasions now. The team is nice to Spencer, of course they are, they’re his family. But nothing in the entire world could have adequately prepared him to the spring of kindness you so freely distribute to anyone willing to receive it. And god, Spencer is willing. Is it every time you listen to him ramble on and on, unable to really hold his tongue despite the embarrassment clouding his cheeks darker. Is it every time you ask him about the book he’s reading, every time you ask him how his mother is doing and just- all these tiny things that add up and completely smush his brain into a fuzzy mess of warmth that leaks down his body.

He literally could spend every minute of every day just sitting next to you and soak up your presence and he would be the happiest person alive. That’s why he cherishes your friendship to him so strongly, and that’s why it’s the worst thing that Spencer is, well, himself.

He knows that you would probably be too nice to outright state that something he does unsettles you. Changes the way you think about him. Still. There is the worry. Buried so deep in his mind it’s as if he was born with it. And that’s why he’s so relieved that he is keeping the worst of the ‘Reid effect’ at bay while working with you on this twisted painter case.

It all goes well, until it doesn’t. Of course. Good things never seem to last for Spencer.

It’s already later in the afternoon on the fourth day you are working the case, no end in sight, unfortunately. Spencer is bend over the table, hands entwined in front of his mouth as he’s staring down the printed pictures of the unsub’s latest victim from three days ago. The brushstrokes seem remarkably stable, the colours uncannily vibrant. Spencer does not know much about art, but he does recognise talent when he sees it. And this unsub seems to have it in abundance. It’s almost a shame he’s a deranged killer. But oh well.

He jumps in his seat when the door to his room abruptly bangs open and a dishevelled looking you is bustling into the room.

Your expression turns apologetic. “Oh Spencer, shit, sorry. I didn’t wanna startle you, but they just found another victim.”

And oh. Spencer feels his heart sink in his chest. Guilt tugging it further down into the abyss. Why wasn’t he faster with figuring out these paintings?

“Really? Where?”

You immediately launch into a rapid-fire list of details, all in the wrong order because you do tend to be a bit all over the place. Spencer doesn’t mind. Gives him a bit more of a challenge to order the information in his brain the way it works for him. You two work surprisingly well in that regard.

While talking, you round the desk that almost takes up all the little space available in the room. You sit in the chair next to him, so close he can feel the stressed warmth radiating from you and it takes a very good portion of his brain’s capacity to stop his hand from reaching out. Or do something else even stupider. More stupid? Oh hell. It’s a wonder he can talk in complete sentences with you.

He watches you pull out your phone, fingers typing in the passcode he guessed right after two weeks of knowing you. The indignant expression on your face had been adorable. That’s why he still guesses your new passwords weekly, just to mess with you a little bit. Because he’s apparently insane like that.

“Here”, you turn the display of your phone towards him, “Precinct’s out of ink. Do you mind looking at the pictures on my phone until I come back from the store?”

This is where Spencer should have said no. Declined politely, smile on his face. Tell you that sorry, I don’t really get the same detail on screen like on a printed version. Should’ve emigrated to Tristan da Cunha, change his name to Ferdinand. Whatever. Anything, except say, “Oh, of course. That’s no trouble.”

You smile that breathtaking smile of yours, fingers touching his slightly while giving him your phone. Spencer sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any kind of noise at the tingly feeling skittering down his back.

He can’t not smile back at you. It’s one of his many weaknesses. Jello, trying to out-solve himself every day with New York Times’ new crossword puzzles, dairy. Halloween themed socks. Old obscure movies no one has ever heard of. Reading the most difficult books in twenty minutes. You.

Once you left, Spencer starts diligently going through the photographs of their latest victim. Not yet identified white male. Average height, average weight. Short-buzzed sandy brown hair. Striking blue eyes that seem to stare at him accusingly even after death.

He works through approximately forty pictures taken off the intricate and detailed body art. This time, the unsub left many smaller paintings woven in a bigger, overall painting. There’s still one that Spencer hasn’t seen a close up of, that’s kind of hidden behind the victim’s ears. Maybe you saved it to a different folder. He clicks around your gallery for some time, opening and closing folders full of holiday pictures. Pictures of you, smiling, at the beach. A folder full of memes that he doesn’t get but is familiar with because you keep sending them to him anyways. Spencer is aware that he probably shouldn’t have just- perused your gallery like that. But he was in case-mode. Hyper-focused on finding the next clue, on detangling the next hint that would bring them further. That would finally be the key to end this case and bring justice to all the victims.

He isn’t really thinking, when he clicks on a folder titled ‘xxx lol’. Thinks it’s another one full of memes because of the abbreviation, but maybe you accidentally saved pictures of the case in there, wouldn’t be too out of character for you and-

Spencer sucks in a breath.

Drops your phone almost as an afterthought. The noise of it clattering to the table makes him flinch.

It lands display down. Small mercies and all that.

And Spencer is- he is-

… That was not-

Not -

There’s a weird buzzy feeling in his limbs, his chest and head. Like his blood turned into a swarm of bees. He feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head and like he’s on fire simultaneously.

Okay. Okay.

That was not- pictures of the case.

Definitely not.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Spencer was definitely not supposed to see. That. Not supposed to see you- like that. Ever.

His heart is totally beating itself into a frenzy. There are at least two litres of blood rushing to his head. The other four are gathering somewhere down down down and oh. Oh shit.

Spencer is actually fucked. More than that. He wants to get fucked and that’s. Just. Even worse.

He wants to scream.

He ends up biting his knuckles and letting out a frustrated noise against his fingers.

Did he really.

Did he really just see your nudes?

(And yes, he knows that word. Penelope is a bad influence on him.)

His head is kind of a- a mess. More than usual when you are around. And… what. What does he do now? He can’t just- can’t just leave your phone like that. You’d obviously see what he was looking at and that’s just- unacceptable.

But the other option appears just as preposterous. Because, because, he’d have to look at your phone again. At you, like that, again. To get out of ‘xxx lol’. Damn you. Why did you have to be so unserious and name your, uhm, very personal folder like that? And no password-block?

Spencer feels a different kind of warmth enveloping him because it’s just- so you, silly and funny and kind of unbelievable and Spencer is so deeply in love with you that he feels like he’s going crazy with it. Of course, you’d be like that about stuff like that as well. Spencer would give everything to just once experience what it’d feel like to kiss you. To feel your lips twisted in a silly smile against his, flicking a finger at his ear because you would. Do that. When kissing someone. And okay. Okay. Spencer needs to get his shit together, like, yesterday.

You could come back any second now, actually and fuck. He needs to close the gallery app on your phone, asap.

His hands are trembling as they retrieve your phone from the table.

He allows himself a deep breath. And then. With eyes squeezed almost close, he taps the return arrow. Well, tries to. He thinks he managed to escape your nudes-folder without any hiccups but well.

Spencer is freaking inept with technology.

So. He finds himself looking at another picture of you and god, it actually might kill him.

It’s inappropriate. So so so so inappropriate. You would kill him dead if you ever knew Spencer was ogling your pictures like that. Like a perverted stalker.

But. But.

There shouldn’t even be a ‘but’.

But.

You’re just. You’re just- You’re incredible. Not even in a sexual way, just-

You’re so beautiful it hurts.

And call Spencer selfish, a pervert, whatever. Because he knows, okay? But he also knows that he’d never, ever get to see you like that. And it hurts in a different way now, because Spencer just wants. Wants you so much. You and you, just you.

But…he’d never get to have you. Which is fine, of course. Having you as a friend is actually one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d never do anything to endanger that-

…Well. He’s not perfect. So, sue him, for only once, giving into his deepest darkest desires. He’s only human. And pathetically in love with you. And attracted to you. Oh, he wants to be with you so badly. Wants to- wants to get kissed and held by you. Wants to make love with you, which just. Sounds so dumb and cliche. But maybe he just is that for you.

Still. He shouldn’t think how absolutely breathtaking you look, sprawled across the white linen of presumably your bed. He knew you worked out regularly, but. Spencer feels hot all over when he thinks how easily you could just. Manhandle him around. To wherever you wanted him. And this is something he apparently likes. (He consciously stores that information away for later. Later.)

He shouldn’t think how you would tease him, how you would make him beg for you before he’d even taken off his clothes. He would. He would beg for you, go on his knees. Everything, everything.

He shouldn’t think how warm and safe you’d make him feel, even after knowing he’s inexperienced in everything. You’d take his face in your hands, smile at him so beautifully he’d cry. Tell that ugly internalized shame to go ‘fuck off to Jupiter’.

Oh, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

But there’s always so much he shouldn’t do. Friends shouldn’t think of other friends like that. Friends don’t imagine how it would feel to be taken apart and put together again by their friend. Friends shouldn’t want to touch, touch, touch-

Maybe, for once, he just. Has enough of that. Maybe, he could just. Indulge. For a minute. To know what it’d be like. Just. A little.

To know what it’d be like if this picture was meant for him. What it’d be like- Be like to see you. And for you to see him. Like that. What it’d feel like to crawl into your lap, bury his face in your neck. Set his teeth on the gentle skin there and hear you gasp for him. How you’d bury your hands in his hair, and he’d make the most miserable noises until you pulled and-

Something in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and- shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

That’s you. Walking towards the door.

His hands are shaking so badly he has difficulties navigating your phone. But thankfully, this time, he manages to leave ‘xxx lol’ and find his way back to the evidence folder.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Did he actually- He actually-

The door springs open. Spencer startles kind of violently.

(Oh god.)

You have a big grin on your face. Some magenta ink smutched across your left cheek. And Spencer knows what you look like without-

“Heya, Spence, you won’t believe what just happened-“

(Oh god.)

“Uh… you okay there?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. His heartbeat is spiking and, well. He’s never been quite this turned on his entire life. He feels himself hard and aching against his trousers and Spencer wants you to push him down on the table and-

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

He needs to- leave. Right now.

“Fine”, he squeaks, voice all over the place and he cringes, “Just-“

He wags his hands around in a very confusing, general manner. Grabs some photographs.

“I need to- Need to. Bathroom”, is all he somehow manages, photographs surely placed in front of his, ahhhh, problem.

You look at him as if he lost his mind. He probably has.  “Oh-kay? Then… go?”

Spencer goes.

------------------------------

Spencer can’t stop thinking about those pictures.

He’d known it would come to this. Him, lying wide awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed.

Having an eidetic memory has never felt more like a curse to him as now.

He buries his head further into the pillow. Fingers digging into it. Pulling his legs closer to him and, ah. That. Probably wasn’t the greatest idea of his.

He’s still- turned on. Uncomfortably so.But just thinking of taking care of that. Well. He’s 100% sure that that’s not the way to go about forgetting these pictures.

Also, it’s bad enough already that he even saw them. It would be so much creepier to jerk himself off to them. To you. His best friend. But- ugh.

It’s always kind of uncomfy for him to be away on a case. He prefers his own four walls over anything else, kind of, except maybe the university library. And now, being sexually frustrated away on a case that requires even more focus than other cases do?

Oh, Spencer is so fucked.

------------------------------

You notice that something is off with him. It really would have been a miracle if not, because then Spencer would’ve had to question your profiling skills. But even then- he doesn’t think that you’d even need to have these skills to notice him acting off.

Because Spencer is so not the person to play incidents like that cool. He is painfully aware of that, thank you very much.

So, the next day, when you came to say hi to him (“Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”), after he basically ran off the day before, and you, as always, casually put your hand on his shoulder, Spencer, he-

He spit out his coffee.

He could feel you freeze through the hand on his shoulder. Your expression would’ve been comical if Spencer wasn’t dying.

“Uhh… Do you… Do you need a moment?”

Well, that was a freaking understatement. Spencer needs not a moment but all of them to try to get his act together.

…which he didn’t. Not for the rest of that day, and also not for the day after. And the day after. This case apparently will never end. Fucking Florida.

You, of course being the kind soul you are, tried talking to him.

(“Spencer, are you okay? You’ve been acting kinda-“

“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, completely.”

“Uhm… Sure. If you wanna talk about it, you got my number.”)

And well. Spencer feels like he is going insane.

It’s come down to him not being able to spend more than thirty minutes uninterrupted in your vicinity without getting semi-hard, because he knows. Without him almost doing something stupid and drop to his knees then and there and beg you to either forgive him or to please let him eat you out.

Ah, yes, because apart from being so frustrated he could scream, he’s also feeling so guilty it’s slowly killing him.

There you are, still being his absolute favourite person on the planet, unaware of what kind of person you are laughing with. Of what Spencer did. It was an accident yes, but- He should’ve said something. Maybe warned you so that it would not happen again. Ugh, but the more time passes the worse it gets. The more impossible it feels to just- go to you and say ‘ah, uhm, by the way, I saw your nudes and maybe you should put those behind a password block’.

Spencer is just- the worst friend. What friend doesn’t give their friend a heads-up about something like that? He’ so, hopeless, incompetent, and he gets it now why he didn’t have that many friends in school. 

It’s gotten so bad so quickly that the others started noticing too, obviously. It really is a curse working with profilers. Spencer should reconsider his move to Tristan da Cunha.

“What’s got pretty boy so worked up, huh?”, Morgan asked him on the day after the incident.

“Did something happen, Spence?”, JJ pulled him aside on the second day after.

“Are they cancelling Doctor Who?”, Emily, on the first day after.

“Kid, you need to eat something”, as Rossi pressed a protein bar into his hands.

Even Penelope texted him.

is it what i think it is? ;))))))

He did not dignify her with an answer.

When Hotch comes to him on the evening on the second day after, Spencer is a mess. He’s practically spent the entire day in some state of fluster. He noticed he’s trailing off when he’s info-dumping. That he’s just- staring off into space more often than he usually does. That he can’t talk to you properly without stuttering, that he avoids looking you in the eyes. So, it really was only a matter of time until their unit chief would scold him. Or whatever Hotch is here to do.

“Listen, Reid”, he says, tone of voice a little too similar to when he is talking to Jack when he did something mildly inconvenient, “whatever it is, and I don’t want to know unless it’s something bad, deal with it. We need you with a clear head here, okay?”

And well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

------------------------------

He still thinks so once he falls into bed that evening. But now-

Deal with it.

How? How should he deal with that? It’s not like he can just press the ‘Delete’-button in his memories. Thanks for nothing, Hotch.

His eyes strain from staring at the ceiling in the dark. Closing them doesn’t really help because all he’d see is you. He’s such a mess.

A pining, pathetic loser mess and he’s so hard again he can’t properly think. It’s just- Spencer has had rather inappropriate thoughts about you before. Has actually spent way too many hours in his apartment just lazing around, thoughts occupied on all the countless ways he’d like you to make him lose his goddamn mind. It had been kind of an accident (isn’t that just the story of his life), the first time it happened.

Spencer had almost been finished with his report, he’d just needed an additional detail from you to finish up. He’d asked Morgan where you were, and this is how he found himself walking down the corridor to Penelope’s ‘Dungeon’. Which, he’d never say out loud because that’s just ridiculous, right?

He saw the door to her office was slightly ajar, a mix of yellowish-red light splitting the hallway in half where it spilled out of the open gap.

There’s a giggle coming from inside the room and Spencer smiles- can’t help it really, because your laugh is just so absolutely ridiculous, a kind of high-pitched screech that ends in airy laughter and he’s so obsessed with it he wants to engrave it on a CD to listen to it again and again.

“No way, gorgeous, I don’t believe that”, Penelope whisper-giggled.

Spencer didn’t realize his steps slowed down, too curious by what you two could be talking about. And also, kind of forgetting that you shouldn’t just listen to other people’s conversations like that.

“Oh yes”, your voice was low, and Spencer would be lying if he said it didn’t send a tingle along his spine, “He broke up with me, but he came crawling back to me not even two months later because I apparently ‘ruined him’ for anyone else.”

Ruined him? What did you mean?

Both Penelope and you were laughing now, louder than before.

“You really, really gotta teach me your devious ways, buttercup.”

You snicker. “I guess it all boils down to making them come so hard they cry and forget their own name, really.”

Spencer didn’t get the detail he needed from you that day.

He’d gotten something much worse and that was curious. From the limited sexual encounters he’s had in his life before (a rushed hand-job somewhen in university in a toilet cubicle by that one other student he was into back then) he couldn’t really imagine something like sexual gratification that made one cry. Sure, getting himself off felt good. Sure, that orgasm had been fine. But… it could feel better?

He kind of didn’t think of that before.

So, when flustered-he had returned to his apartment after that overheard conversation, he kind of… thought about what these things could be that you did, to make others feel so good they lose the basic functions of their memory.

And the rest is basically history.

Of course, he’d never touched himself while doing… research about your techniques. It just felt- wrong. You are his friend and despite of his crush on you, it didn’t feel right.

But now…

He really really shouldn’t. But, he’s just so- desperate. For you and for things to go back to how they were. Without him almost bursting at the seams each time you look at him because before, he never had any problems with categorizing his mind like he does now.

So maybe… Maybe he can just… Do it once? Real quick, to get it out of his system?

The longer Spencer turns the thought in his head, the more… it seems like a good idea. You’d never know. Spencer could forget about- about the accident and move on. Solve the case and finally leave cursed Florida behind. If he just does it this one time, it’s not that bad right?

The fuzzy pleasure that shoots up his spine when he finally, finally presses his hand against himself through his pyjama pants answers him. Yes, yes, it says and more more more-

Spencer has never been good in denying himself things that make him feel good, better than good, things that make him forget about any pain that has nestled inside of his body or mind. Right now, that thing is you. Oh, perfect beautiful lovely you. He can’t stop the way his lips twitch into a smile, almost shy, even though he’s alone. But something about you just- 

He gasps, back arching a little when he slides the palm of his hand along himself, still through two layers of fabric.

Something about you just- god, how can he put this into words- something about you just makes him feel- safe. Seen. Taken care of. And it’s just, so foreign to him. Strange. He’s always been looking after himself. After dad left and mom-

He’s kind of addicted to it. To the way you make him feel. Spencer can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. Never never enough.

His fingers trail circles around the head of his cock, light and unhurried, enjoying the shivers of good good amazing it sends through his limbs, to his fingertips. Spencer can feel the tension leaking out of him, can feel his muscles relax and his mind become hazy. He should do this more often, god he always forgets how good it is, it feels.

He almost forgets why he decided to get off right now. It had something to do with you. You. Naked and there, here with Spencer. He whines a little because you aren’t here, why aren’t you here he wants that so badly-

But all he has is the crystal-clear mental snapshot of your nudes. Spencer doesn’t remember ever remembering something with such clarity before. He feels kind of embarrassed by that, how obviously desperate he is for you. How he would do everything for you, with you. But this feels so good that he doesn’t care about any kind of embarrassment or shame that might trigger his self-loathing.

He increases the pressure of his palm slightly, oh god oh oh, it’s so good already and Spencer hasn’t even touched yet, not properly at least, but oh. Oh, he wants moremoremore-

It’s so easy letting his thoughts tangle, mixing old and new. Fantasies and reality. The you from the pictures merges with the you from his daydreams and oh shit. Oh fuck.

Spencer moans, high and needy at the back of his throat and god how are you so beautiful?

Imagined-you has absolutely nothing on the real you. Spencer could have never himself come up with you because he just lacks the imaginative capabilities to conjure the absolute vision you are. The vision you portray on those freaking pictures that have branded themselves into his very neurons. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that he will never get over them. Over you. Doesn’t even really want to.

Because he is quite certain that the sight of you, your stomach your thighs your arms your tits your- oh he forgot where he was going with this.

By now, Spencer’s hand has dipped beneath his pyjamas and beneath his boxers and he moans again, his lips pulled between his teeth and eyes shut because the feeling of good good better more almost peaks when he grabs himself, finally.

His right hand starts an even, slow pace along his cock because if he is only ever doing this once, he is going to make most of it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close, though. He’s been so wound up the last few days, it really is no surprise. It’s actually more surprising he hasn’t come all over himself already.

Soft, keening noises are continuously spilling from between his lips, hips moving together with his hand because he just can’t help himself. The heat in his abdomen is building and building and he whimpers because he wants it to be you so so badly, his thoughts are a mess, he is a mess and he wishes he could be your mess, yours, yours to make a mess of and oh god he’s going to-

A knock. On his door.

He freezes, blood rushing loud in his ears, heart pounding and his cock hot in his hand and begging him to not stop but-

“Spencer? It’s me, can you let me in?”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

pt. II? 👀

[quimichi]

˚✦ ˑ 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐫, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭? ִֶ 𓂃⊹ - MDNI

WARNINGS: NSFW - MDNI, Pet names, sexual behavior, name calling, some a bit rough and mean

SUMMARY: They took your virginity. Case solved.

CHARACTERS: HSR Men X F!Reader (no aged up Charas)

WORD COUNT: 13.150

Argenti

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch you, juices dripping down. His tongue softly rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting you, a masterpiece. And you can’t help but moan out at the new pleasure. His fingers hit that spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes and back, you desperately arch with another whine. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure. It's overwhelming you, he promised to be gentle, and he is. But never once did he tell you how good this will all feel.

“S-Shit Argenti-, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice begins to crack, your hips bucking widly as he speeds up. And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you. Not only is it a pleasure to please you, beautiful you. It's a pleasure to be your first. It sends a wave of possessiveness through his body.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his glistening fingers running up to your waist.  “Such a dirty little rose,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck, hair tickling your skin. “Youre a sight to behold, breathless, dazed...divine.”

Aventurine

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip on your throat. Its not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know his hand is there. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out, huh?” You're unable answer him, the only thing you manage are whines and moans slipping through his fingers through your throat. He'd be mean to not let you moan out like a bitch in heat after all. Aventurine smirks knowingly, continuing his assault on your insides.

“Can't believe no one ever went inside you, youre far too good. Shit-you love it too, don't you?” You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand travels down your tummy, the soft touch sending waves to your core. His fingers eventually find your clit, rubbinh the swollen skin over and over again. Your eyes glaze over and roll back, it's too much, too much!

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake and back arches. “Mine, ok? Youre mine, my girl. You don't mind do you? Surely you don't...look at you, sweet girl.”

Blade

“feels s’fucking good—“ you mindlessly babbles out. His large palms are stretched out on both sides of you hips, nails digging into your skin. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…you're a little greedy slut, hm?" he teases.

You can feel his hot breath fanning your ear while his dark hair tickles your neck. The sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls. Headboard constantly hitting the wall. You wouldn't be surprised if something would break this night, and it doesn't need to be the bed.

“if you keep moaning like a bitch in heat, i won't fucking stop,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. "Naw, look at that," he points at the bulge in your stomach, "that's me all the way inside your greedy cunt."

Boothill

"you still good, darlin?" he asked, amused, his hands moving up to grab one of your tits, giving it a squeeze with his cold hands. He hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. He knows he could do this for hours, his stamina is much longer than yours after all, but he doesn't want to push you just yet.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “its so fucking pretty for no fucking reason...”

Caelus

“shiiit-just like that...” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Hands softly gripping your hips as he guides you. He smirks when he heard your whine as a reaction to his groans, golden halflidded eyes stare up at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. You had no idea what you were doing, well, neither does he. But you insisted on riding him.

“doing so well,” he says with a slight whine as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. It doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. Your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, "sorry,-shit-sorry I couldn't-hold myself back much longer-!"

Dan Heng

“just as i expected, it slipped right in...” your arm immediately slung over your face to hide your embarrassment. Something about the way he talks to you has you throbbing.

“fuck, so deep inside you already.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you. He's so painfully splitting you open. You whine and whimper, it feels too good to be true. “that’s it, there’s my girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “youre doing so good for me, just a bit longer, ok?”

He speeds up his thrusts, "eyes on me," he says, "you can do it, eyes on me." And when he hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back and flutter closed.

"Good girl."

Dr. Ratio

“it hurts, doesn't it?” he whispers, no mock, no tease, unusual for him. He knows it hurts, he's just deep enough inside you, balls deep.

“yes, it hurts…” you whine, eyes watering as you adjust. He’s letting you distract yourself a bit, letting you soak up the pain with pleasure. “… so bad.” you keep whining.

"I know, it will get better." he presses his hips flat against you, just to slowly drag his cock out of you again, leaving just his tip inside. “Doing good for a first timer. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

You nod desperately, biting your lip between your teeth.

“I'll be slow, we got time.” he mumbles, a sick grin painting across his face. He'd be lying if he would say he doesn't enjoy the power play that's going on at the moment. "I'M gonna teach you everything you need to know."

Gallagher

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against your ass. Youre breathing hard, chest heaving. But you can't help but lean back against his chest. He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit. His breath is hot against your ear as he chuckles at your reaction. His middle finger slips between your folds and gathers some of your arousal to use it at your clit again. Once he had your hips jerking and whines leaving your lips, he slips two of his thick fingers inside. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

“I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at his arms.

He slips his hand out of your pussy again, letting his tongue run over his fingers, lapping at your juices. He hums, as the taste hits his tounge, “Shit, girl. Got me addicted already.”

Gepard

“That’s it.. Just like that..” He takes hold of the hand, kissing your knuckles, whispering soft praises into your skin to help you work up courage to keep riding him. He knows it's embarrassing for you, he knows you doubt yourself. But he also knows that you can do it.

“Doing so good for me, ok? So good, keep going..”

It takes his everything to hold back his hips and not fuck up into you, it's all too inviting.  He holds you, wrapping both arms around your torso and pull you close to his chest. One hand slips down to your hips, guiding you on his cock. "Like that, yeah."

Hot breaths reach your ear as he hums in approvment. "Good...shit--good."

Jing Yuan

“ass up. There you go, atta girl.” and you almost shiver from his touch on you'd hips as he turns you over. Jing Yuan stares at your ass, bringing a rough palm towards your left cheek. “Mm, nice. You're doing good. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you...for now.”

As he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow, hiding in embarrassment. Jing Yuan watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “I'm going in, ok? No need to be scared”

“ok...” you breathe, big talk for someone who probably has way to much experience for his own good.

"I'll go easy on you, I promised you that birdie." He whispers in your ear as he leans over, slowly pushing in.

Jiaoqiu

He dives in, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. He laps at you hungrily, savoring your taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “you're so hot...,” he hums against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “thank you for the meal...”

Your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process. You can't help but let one hand wander to one of his ears, tugging on it. Immediately a whine leaves his lips as he laps on you more desperately than before.

He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

"Do that again and watch me eat you up."

Luka

Luka leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. His hands grip your hips hard you feel like you might see some bruises tomorrow as a souvenir.

"Damn, you take my cock better than expected, baby," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Way to fucking well, you sure you're a virgin?" he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you. “look at me,” he commands, "that pussy is mine now. Mine."

As you meet his eyes, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck-didnt know you could get any tighter."

Luocha

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. Hes not a mean man by any means, but he figured that maybe him going in faster with the ammount of slick you already got, might be less painful. Wronh judgment in a hazy moment. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls are so tight around his length.

When he did it, it was over for you, and you thanked him with the most beautiful sounds he ever heard. You squeezed him and croed out, making a mess of yourself as you grab onto his shoulders for support. It all was too much for you, too much happening all at once. But you'd be a lair to say you didn't enjoy it.

He would slowly start to run against you, holding your hips in place as he drags his cock in and out of your hole. His slow speed was annoying, painful, but so good.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“Just you wait once I'm done with you. We'll have plenty of time left to get to know each other much better."

Sampo

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. It .ade your eyes roll back into your skull, your mind went blank for a second. His teasing laugh pulling you back into reality, "Oops-went to hard there~" As a apology he went softer on you, slowly dragging his cock in and out of your hole.

“Doing so well for me,” he groaned, as he lightly speed up again, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"Damn-" he groans as you grap onto his shoulders and dig your nails in. "Careful there baby, you don't wanna hurt poor Sampo, hm?" He laughs again as he kisses down your neck and leaves yet another bite behind.

"We could do this more often, I know I wouldn't mind."

Sunday

The all so collected man practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back. You unknowingly push him against you, silently asking for more. "Needy, needy." he teases as breaths in your ear, giving it a soft kiss afterwards.

“Dont you worry, I'm not done with you yet.”

Although his words came out more scary than they should, his action of hiding into your shoulder makes it all seem more pathetic than dominant. His wings flutter as your parted lips let a whine escape.

He groans, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. Your nails dig hard into his scalp.

“That came...rather unexpected.”

Welt

“it won’t fit!” you sob out loud. No way this all will fit inside you, you never took anything, or anything that size. He's bigger than you, this wont fit without tears. But you're determined today, telling him you wanted to fit everything in you.

He trails his fingers up and down your side before one hand snakes down to thumb at your clit while the other large hand clasps your hip. "i'll make it fit, and I'll be careful." he promises, soft as he pleasures you. You expected nothing less of him, he always treated you with more care than any others. He softly rubs your clit as he enters, a way of distracting you from the pain that you will encounter.

"there you go, told you I'd make it fit."

[kissingmilfs]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 | 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

18+ minors please dni ✮⋆˙

✮⋆˙content warnings: somno, cnc, scissoring, pervert!sevika

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧

the sheets rustled as sevika groaned herself awake. she awoke in a cold sweat that made every piece of fabric cling on any patch of skin it could find. sevika has never awoken from such a disgustingly, filthy dream. but the longer she’s awake the further the dream slips away from her. the last affects of the sex dream remain though. her clit achingly throbs like a second heart. somehow throughout the night you had rolled into sevika’s chest and tucked your leg between hers.

sevika didn’t necessarily want to wake you for the sole purpose of getting off. but if she rolls her hips right—maybe she can get enough friction to come without rousing you. sevika’s arm secures itself tighter around your back. your breathing remains steady. sevika gradually shifts and rotates her hips until she’s positioned her pussy on the apex of your thigh.

burying her nose in the messiness of your bed hair—sevika takes a deep sniff. you smell like hers. cautiously sevika drags her hips tentatively across your thigh. she holds her breath—not knowing if you’ll wake. but you remain still. such a perfect little doll, sevika thinks. the metallic fingers of sevika’s prosthetic angles your thigh even more against her cunt. the pressure is almost enough. her hips heavily grind down again. no, that’s not it. it felt better dragging herself the length of your thigh. she opts to try that method again.

sevika’s body produces more of a sweat from her attempts to get off. it’s starting to frustrate her. but she needs you. sevika knows she cannot simply roll over and rub one out. her body craves you. sevika feels the beginning of an idea sparking. she carefully rolls you on your back, brushing some hair out of your face. her fingers pause mid stroke when you mumble. but nothing more happens.

humming to herself in contentment, sevika diligently parts your legs wider before kneeling between them. tonight is one of those nights sevika’s fucking grateful you sleep without underwear. she cannot even fathom why she argued over something as banal as this. her mouth waters at the sight of your pussy in the moonlight. blinking away the distraction, sevika wiggled her boxers off her hips. she sits down quickly to tugs them off and toss them somewhere.

sevika returns to her former position kneeled between your spread thighs. her hands soothingly run up the soft skin of your thighs. marveling at how remarkable still you are in your sleep. if sevika’s clit wasn’t so distracting the woman would take the time to get you properly ready. but she’ll have to make do.

shifting on her knees sevika widens them enough where she can easily reach her own cunt. her fingers thickly skim down her folds and she hisses at how sensitive she is. sevika isn’t thrown too off guard with the sheer amount of mess coating her fingers. she felt it when she peeled off her boxers. her fingers shine in the dim light graciously afforded by the moonlight through the sheer curtains. sevika didn’t even really need to prep you. her own wetness would be enough. but she cannot resist. sevika crotches forward. one hand, her metal one, sinks into the mattress while the other slowly drags her soaked fingers up the length of your pussy. she all but trembles with the sinful action. and the only reaction that comes from you is tiny whine. it’s not even enough to convince sevika your sleep conscious mind registered the sensation.

regardless sevika eagerly plunges her own fingers back into her overly sensitive cunt and only pumps them in briefly. she gathers, scoop one might say, a generous amount of her own slick once again. it’s far more than the first time. sevika’s fingers return to your pussy. it takes a few passes through your folds and over your hole for all of sevika’s mess to transfer. your legs only twitched once.

sevika hums her satisfaction. “you’re so perfect, baby.” she utters softly. “and i’m so sorry…but i have to. i need to.”

she positions her body opposite yours. her left leg slotted over your right. sevika’s fingers curl into the sheets as she wills her body to stop fucking trembling. sevika feels desperate. insatiable. her senses have never driven her to such extremes. never once awoken from a dream and sweating out the fever of a lost orgasm. she wishes desperately her fingers would work. but after years owning your heart, body and soul—sevika can never take herself there alone.

and it’s exactly why she’s angled her cunt parallel to yours. sevika knows within minutes of sensually grinding her pussy against yours she’ll be released from this agony. she holds back the groan of approval housed in the depths of her throat. you’re warm and still covered with sevika’s juices. and it seems her few passes made you wet on your own.

“my needy girl…” sevika whispers out as she finally begins moving her hips.

it’s not entirely the easiest orgasm. usually sevika can hold your hand or thigh for leverage. or position your legs wider or higher. but sevika can make do. especially when each brush over her swollen clit against yours sends a heated spark in sevika’s stomach. she can feel herself dripping out and making a mess of you. her hand eventually circles your thigh—bending your leg. and it works. sevika’s strength can easily hold this position. it gives her more breadth and her clit freely glides against yours.

sevika’s body builds up the familiar sensations of her orgasm. her toes curl and uncurl. the muscles in her abdomen almost hurt from coiled tension. then she hears your tiny whimpers. sevika’s ears cannot differentiate if it’s whimpers of pleasure or if you’re slowly waking.

“sev?” sevika for sure knows you’re awake. your voice is faint and whiney and she could almost miss it. sevika cannot fully see your face but she knows you’re sporting that confused pout. the one where your lips are so damn kissable and your eyebrows bunch in light whisper.

her hips don’t come to a full stop. sevika cannot bring herself to. “shh…it’s okay, baby. i’m almost done. i promise. i’m so close.”

your body barely registered sevika’s actions at first. you were waking up from a warm dream. a warm and tingly dream. your body had never felt so relaxed. you called out sevika’s name only because you hadn’t waken in her arms. it is only after sevika coos at you did the realization set in.

“mm..sev…” you whine out again. not in distress but because now you’re inappropriately horny. it is clear your body did not receive any release.

“i know, doll. i know. let me handle it, baby. i’ll make you feel good. i promise.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ oh, nothing! just bitchy!kook!reader walking around the house in nothing but rafe’s favorite heels after he decides talking on the phone with his friends is more important than paying attention to his girl..

warnings: bratty behavior, rafe being sexually frustrated lol, groping, heavy teasing, suggestive ending

a/n: just a little something on the shorter side because these 2k+ wc fics have done their number on me lol

you rolled your eyes, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as rafe’s laughter echoed from upstairs. he has been on a three way call with kelce and topper for going on an hour now, and while you usually didn’t care, he had you waiting for him downstairs in full glam and an empty tummy. this is what you get when you try to play nice and put your catty attitude to the side for one night; a negligent boyfriend who had no care for anything else in the world except for what him and his idiot friends were rambling on about. your impatience is what lead you to be in the position you were in right now; naked and ignoring rafe as he followed you around the house, begging you to give him the slightest amount of attention.

“we can go get dinner now, okay?! i was just listening to topper vent about ruthie, i swear i wasn’t ignoring you!” he refrained from stopping you in your tracks, his cock stirring in his pants when he watched the way your hips swayed with every step. “oh, really?” you spun around, your boyfriend’s eyes falling down to your bare chest, “not responding to me when i called you downstairs like a thousand times wasn’t you ignoring me?” rafe opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when you walked away from him again. this time he watched you round the corner of the hallway, making your way into the kitchen before cursing under his breath.

you could tell you were driving rafe insane by the way he was gripping the kitchen island, his knuckles white with tension. “so, what? you’re just going to walk around like that?” he asked, his eyes burning into your skin. you shrugged, bending over the counter with a look in your eyes that made him want to wrap a fist in your hair and take you right there. “too bad you were busy with your friends earlier.. i actually wanted to be the sweet girlfriend tonight and give you dessert after dinner. oh well..” you pouted, walking past him as you flipped your hair over your shoulder. why were you like this? toxic, bitchy, mean, but still irresistible, sexy, and perfect?

“it won’t happen again, i promise.” rafe was hypnotized as he watched you walk into the living room, your heels clicking against the floor as your boyfriend pleaded with you to let him take you upstairs. “maybe the neighbors would appreciate the view a lot more than you do—” you barely touched the curtains before your boyfriend snatched you away from the large window. “that’s enough.” he said through gritted teeth, his gruff voice just right below your ear. suppressing the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “that poor excuse of an apology isn’t gonna get you anywhere.” rafe chuckled, his hands feeling like fire on your hips.

“let me show you how sorry i am..” he turned you around, his cock aching as he could now feel your tits pressing against him through his shirt. he was making it really hard for you to keep up your act. “acting like a little brat, i know exactly what you need right now.” you gasped when you felt him take a handful of your ass, his bruising grip only exciting you further. “and what is that?” you leaned in, feeling the last of your resolve crumble when he took your hand to feel him through the denim of his jeans. “it’s so hard for you, baby,” he nearly moaned, lowering his tone, “and i’m still so hungry..”