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elixirfromthestars · 1 day ago

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Oh Vinny, college Bucky will always have my heart!! 🥹❤️ And seeing the prompts you used I just knew I was in for the fluffiest treat 🤭🩷🩷

All my feelings under the cut 🤭💕

First off, if Bucky was my roommate I would’ve fallen in love instantly, no hesitations 😌🩷

Bucky's arm is wrapped around you, his warm body pressed against your back as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses over your neck and shoulder. From the moment you two started officially dating, he has made it his mission to wake you up this way every day, and so far, he's succeeded every time.

^ Umm can I please be woken up like this everyday? 💗💗💗 I’m not a morning person, but if I got Bucky kisses every morning then I’d become a morning person so quick!!! 🫶🏼

I’m a sucker for terms of endearment!! ❤️ Angel, princess, etc like yes please keep them coming!! 🥰 The reader and Bucky are just too cute in this like, this fluff is so sweet I’m about to get cavities 🤭🩷🩷

-> Also pumpkin spice pancakes are a need right now ☕️🍁

"What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms? Unless you're offering to come back to bed with me, in which case I definitely need you to do that!" You roll your eyes playfully as you chuckle, knowing he's always looking for ways to get you back in bed to spend the entire day doing nothing but making love.

^ I wouldn’t object 🤭🩷 Like… 👀✨

Surprising him with a pumpkin patch date is the cutest thing ever!! 💗 Especially because he’s never been to one and the reader wants to tell Bucky I love you in a special way like—AHHH 🥹❤️❤️ And the way he gets all excited 🥺💕

There are a few food stands that sell the most delicious pumpkin and apple treats, as well as a hot chocolate stand, different games having to do with pumpkins, a maze built out of pumpkins, and last but not least, a patch to pick your pumpkin to take home for carving.

^ Can I go here?? 😭❤️ I didn’t get go to any fall festivals or events, so I’m so jealous of these two 🥺🍂🤎

I love that they were able to say I love you to each other in a moment of pure happiness 🥹🩷 Too cute!!!!! Vinny, this was so sweet, so fluffy, and it’s got me all giggly and kicking my feet 🤭💗💗 Thank you so much for participating in my writing challenge with this wonderful piece!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Pumpkin Spice And Everything Nice

Pairing → College Student! Boyfriend! Bucky Barnes x College Student! Partner! Gender Neutral! Reader

Total Wordcount → 2.2K

Summary → Falling in love with your roommate, Bucky, has been one of the best things ever to have happened to you, and he’s showing you every single day how much he loves you. Today, you’ll turn the tables around by taking him on a surprise date after he tells you he’s never been to a pumpkin patch. Together, you will make some memories you will cherish forever, and a tradition might also be born from it.

Tags & Warnings → Canon divergence, college au, roommate au, roommates turned lovers, domestic bliss bursting the seams of this story, implied lovemaking.

Story Rating → Teen

Author’s Note → This story is written for a writing challenge hosted by @elixirfromthestars! This story is inspired by the Stud & Smartie universe, written by the lovely @navybrat817. I have, of course, tried to give my spin to the story, but I believe in giving credit where credit is due, so thank you so much for inspiring this story, Navy! 💜

Writing Prompts @anyfandomfluffbingo → ”Come back to bed.” @elixirfromthestars → College au | “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.” | “What else do I need if I have my whole world in my arms?” | “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition → Food coma @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition → ‘I always want you to’ | “I’m here.” | Singing in the shower

Tag List → If you’d like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.

Falling in love with your roommate may have been the best thing ever to have happened to you, apart from starting your new, exciting life on the other side of the country. Even though your parents have always given you everything your heart desired, the one thing you always missed was the freedom to explore the world, and even though moving to New York isn’t exactly the other side of the world, it still felt like a dream come true to move out of the small town you used to call home. Now, your home is your roommate and boyfriend, Bucky.

For the past few weeks, the weather in New York City has changed into your favorite season, and the changing colors are making you feel happier than ever. Autumn has always been the time of year that made you feel the happiest, as cozy days at home with hot chocolate and movie nights with rain in the background have calmed your mind down on days when you needed it most. It also means your favorite activity of the year is returning: visiting a pumpkin patch and enjoying as many pumpkin-related treats as you can handle in one day.

The rain is softly tapping against the window as you’re curled up under the covers of your boyfriend’s room - your bed hasn’t seen any sign of life in a little over a month, as you’ve practically moved into his bedroom, seeing that it’s the larger of the two in your apartment. Even though you lived there first, and he became your roommate about a month into your first semester, you moved into the smaller bedroom on your first day, decorating it into a warm, cozy place that now has turned into your reading room.

Bucky’s arm is wrapped around you, his warm body pressed against your back as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses over your neck and shoulder. From the moment you two started officially dating, he has made it his mission to wake you up this way every day, and so far, he’s succeeded every time. Your days have started better, and you’ve also noticed your sleeping habits have improved since sharing a bed with him. However, it also means that your habit of getting up early has gone out the window now that you want to spend as much time together as possible.

“How do you look even more beautiful every morning we spend together, Angel?”

In Bucky’s words, you can feel the heat surging throughout your body, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as he compliments you. Without a second thought, you turn around in his hold, gently kissing the tip of his nose once you’re comfortable.

“I’m not sure. It must be because of how happy you make me, Bucky,” you tell him, your fingers trailing softly over his cheekbone. At this, it’s his turn to smile widely, his cheeks reddening at your sweet words. The love between you two is filling your entire apartment, threatening to burst at the seams, and you’ve been wondering for a while if it’s too soon to say it, but you also know you won’t be able to hold it in much longer. And this is precisely why you have planned a special date today.

“I think it’s about time we get up and get ready for my plans today; we still have to drive a little over an hour to get to our destination,” you tell him, but he shakes his head slightly at the thought of leaving the warm nest you two have created. His eyes meet yours lovingly, his entire face softening as he pulls you in for a gentle kiss that takes your breath away.

“No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed,” Bucky whispers, his deep, gravelly voice finding its way deep into your body and soul as it often does. He could tell you anything he wants, and you’d happily gobble it up as long as it means you getting to hear it as much as possible. A soft, almost inaudible moan slips past your lips as you remember what he told you yesterday as you two were making love in this very same bed, your eyes slipping shut at the thought of it.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky then asks, despite knowing exactly what’s going through your head. Instead of answering, you pull the duvet over your head to hide from him, and he laughs loudly as he pulls you against his chest, where you happily make yourself comfortable again. Your following words sound a bit muffled to your boyfriend, but they make him smile nevertheless.

“I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest. It’s comforting,” you tell him, and you two stay like this for a little longer until you really have to get out of bed. By the time Bucky is in the shower belting out one of his go-to shower songs, and you’re making breakfast - pumpkin spiced pancakes with maple syrup - the rain has finally stopped, and the sun is starting to appear, giving you hope for the day to turn beautiful.

The warm smell of spices fills the air as your boyfriend comes out of his room, fully dressed and his hair styled in the usual way. His cheeks are still red from the hot shower as he walks into the kitchen, ready to get more cuddles in before breakfast. As you feel his long, strong arms wrapping around your waist, you sink into his hold, his cologne hanging in the air and the spices you used in the pancakes.

“Something smells good,” he says as he puts his head on your shoulder, peeking over at the growing pile you’ve already created. A smile brightens your face as you lean into your boyfriend’s hold, butterflies in your stomach running rampant at the simple touch. Sometimes, it still feels unreal for you to be together, and this is one of those moments, but you cherish every second as if it might be the last.

“Thank you,” you whisper to your boyfriend as you concentrate on flipping the pancake. A satisfied hum is in the air as you appreciate its golden brown color.

“Now, before I go and finish the pancakes, is there anything else you need from me?” you ask with a teasing hint to your voice, but the answer that came from your boyfriend is something you wouldn’t have expected him to say, instead going for something like whipped cream or extra syrup. He doesn’t disappoint, though.

“What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms? Unless you’re offering to come back to bed with me, in which case I definitely need you to do that!” You roll your eyes playfully as you chuckle, knowing he’s always looking for ways to get you back in bed to spend the entire day doing nothing but making love.

“If I didn’t have something special planned for today, I would have gone back to bed with you, but I’ve been working on today’s plans for nearly a month, and it seems like a waste to let it go by without a second thought,” you tell him softly after turning in his arms, your hands lying on his shoulders.

“In that case, I’m sticking to your plans today, Angel. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my princess,” he tells you, which has a wave of heat coursing through your veins. Bucky leans in to kiss your lips softly, your eyes slipping shut as he does. When he pulls away, you follow him to get more kisses, and he happily gives them before letting you finish the pancakes and setting up some plates and cutlery on the kitchen island where you two have breakfast together nearly every morning.

“Bucky? Where are you?!” you ask again as you walk through your apartment, ready to go but unable to find your boyfriend. It’s like he’s hiding from you without meaning to do so, and when you finally hear his voice, you let out a breath of relief you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“I’m here, Angel,” he yells from the bathroom attached to your now-shared bedroom. His head pokes around the corner as you walk into the room, plopping down a small bag on the bed before walking over to him and pecking him on the cheek.

“Are you ready to go?” you ask him, and he nods with a broad smile, excitement flowing through his body as he does. How you look up at him has him softening, his neck bending to capture your lips with his. It doesn't take long for the two of you to be in your car, singing along loudly to your favorite music while enjoying some snacks you brought in preparation for your date.

Once you're nearing your destination, Bucky is increasingly curious about what you will do. So far, you have given him practically nothing to work with other than saying you're going somewhere he's never been before, and he's still wracking his brain over what it could possibly be.

"I think it's unfair that you're not giving any hints, Angel; how am I supposed to know where we're going if you're not saying anything?" A slight pout on his lips makes you chuckle as you glance over briefly, and your butterflies inside are again going wild.

"I think it's entirely fair because you always surprise me with the most romantic dates, so today, I will give you a taste of your medicine. It might not be as romantic as you leaving rose petals everywhere before cooking me a fancy dinner and taking me to bed afterward, but I'm sure it'll be a close second."

As Bucky looks outside after your comment, a small smile tugging at his mouth, he suddenly spots a large sign for a pumpkin patch, and it all clicks.

"You're taking me to a pumpkin patch, right?!" The excitement is audible as his voice raises slightly near the end. Not too long ago, he confessed to you that he had never been to a pumpkin patch while growing up, so today, you'll change that. After a few hours of research, you found one that's supposedly amazing, and even though it's a nearly three-hour car ride away, you're more than willing to drive to see his first reaction to visiting a pumpkin patch.

"Wait-" he says, narrowing his eyes at you, "- you've been giving hints for a while, huh? The fall decorations, pumpkins appearing in our apartment, the pumpkin pancakes..." As he pieces everything together, you can't help but feel proud of being able to go through this experience with him.

"Hm-hmm."

The rest of the car ride, you two discuss every hint you've dropped, even the ones he didn't pick up on, and when you arrive, it's like heaven's gates have opened based on your boyfriend's expression. He takes you everywhere, eyes growing wide as the two of you take your time taking everything in.

The happiness in his eyes is childlike in the best possible way, and he can't stop squeezing your hand in excitement as he takes a moment to stop at every stand and game, wanting to try everything.

"Would you like me to buy you a treat of my choice?" you ask him as you stand in front of a stand that sells countless types of pumpkin—and apple-flavored pastries, as well as drinks such as apple cider and pumpkin-spiced lattes.

"I always want you to choose something for me, Angel. You have the best taste in everything related to baked goods. I'm happy to end the day in some sort of a food coma if you keep choosing these amazing treats," he says, and your mouth curls into a smile as you order two warm apple turnovers and a large slice of a classic pumpkin pie to share. Bucky gets you both a cup of hot chocolate from the stand directly next to it, and once you've found a comfortable spot to enjoy your treats, you're happily diving in.

"Bucky, I have something to tell you-"

"I'll let you finish in a moment, but first, I must tell you something, Angel. I cannot thank you enough for taking me here! The weather is fantastic, the treats are heavenly, and most importantly, it made me realize how much I love you."

As he says the words, you're overwhelmed with emotions, tears brimming at your waterline as they sink in. Knowing that he feels the same about you and loves you is a feeling you could only dream of, but knowing it's true has your heart beating out of your chest from pure excitement.

"I love you too, Bucky," you whisper, followed by a kiss that seals your words. They're finally in the universe, and you couldn't be happier. Out of all the things you thought would come out of going to college, you never in a million years falling in love with your roommate would be one of those things.

Even though your life may not always have been the most exciting, you're now looking forward to the excitement and love Bucky will bring from here on out, starting with going to a pumpkin patch every year to relive the moment you're currently experiencing.

Masterlist → Bucky Barnes

GIF: Source → All the other graphics are made by @vintagebuckybarnes

#elixirscafe #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #vinny ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#lovely mutuals ♡🎀♡

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redtsundere-writes · 6 hours ago

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Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 23: Wrapped Around My Finger

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 5354 words.

A/N: Goddamn I have been so busy lately uwu

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

Sukuna had always been a curse shrouded in shadows. Despite his imposing height and bulk, he possessed an unmatched ability to blend into his surroundings. A skill of great importance that allowed him to silently stalk, infiltrate enemy territory undetected, and listen to forbidden secrets just a few meters from his victims. A skill that had guaranteed his survival and made him a legend, along with his ancient technique. However, lately, he was being careless.

No matter where you were, you could feel the weight of his four scarlet eyes on you. A chill ran down your spine every time you felt him nearby, like a ghost wandering around you. When you looked back at him, he would look away with feigned indifference, as if the encounter was mere chance despite living under the same roof and following a random path. If you asked him if you could help him with something, he would always reply with a dry: “Nothing for now.” What was that about then?

Sometimes, you didn't even need to feel the weight of his gaze to know he was near. Small bowls of freshly cut fruit, small flower bouquets, or a cup of steaming tea would magically appear like anonymous offerings. You knew only he could have left them, though he would never do so face to face. Sukuna had a peculiar way of showing interest, a strange mix of pride and caution, and this time, you could understand exactly why he was so stealthy.

The letter had rattled him. His mind took him to fantastic places when he saw you and thought of the words you had written for him. He was fascinated by the adrenaline that ran through his body when he now knew what you were hiding under that innocent gaze. His daisy wanted him as much as he wanted you, and there was nothing that satisfied him more than that. He wanted to hear you recite that letter so that the words would come to life and fulfill his wishes, but the right moment was just around the corner.

It was finally coronation day. The day Sukuna would become king of the Jogo kingdom and name the land after him. Servants ran around to get the castle ready to welcome all the curses in a grand celebration. Cooks prepared absurd amounts of food, servants placed golden decorations along the walls, and guards calmed the inhabitants so they wouldn't get excited about entering early.

You whined in pain and held onto Mrs. Inoue's shoulders to tolerate it. The 8-armed thin seamstress tightened the corset tightly as if she were stuffing a pig into a tube. The golden corset of the dress was too tight around your stomach and bust. Mrs. Inoue held your hips to hold you in place so you would stay still. This was the first time this happened, and the embarrassment was new. It was a shame, since the dress was beautiful. It had several layers of light, translucent fabrics in shades of cream. The top of the corset had ruffles that highlighted the chest, and the long skirt was as light as a feather. The curse growled profanities until the corset finally closed.

“God, I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you grumbled unwillingly as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Maybe that way you’ll fit into the dress,” the seamstress groaned.

Hearing that, your hands instinctively held your stomach. You didn’t think about your weight constantly, but that comment still made you feel bad. Though, that worry disappeared as you felt Sukuna’s presence upon arriving at your room.

“How’s everything going here?” Sukuna examined you as usual.

Mrs. Inoue and you gasped in unison at the sight of him. His outfit was simply perfect, so much so that it left you speechless. This time, he wasn’t wearing his usual robes that hid his muscles. Instead, he wore a short, bright red jacket, with intricate gold embroidery on the sleeves that caught the light hypnotically. Under the jacket, a tight black top revealed the large mouth on his abdomen. A gold medallion hung over his chest, imposing itself with every movement.

He wore loose black pants decorated with red geometric patterns and leather gloves that left his fingers exposed, adding a touch of toughness. Finishing off the outfit were black shoes that clicked with every step. His hair was perfectly combed back, though some unruly strands fell over his forehead, his eyes were lined, and his eyelashes curled, giving him a magnetic and careless look at the same time. He looked so good that your mouth dropped to the floor.

“Wow, he looks like a prince!” Mrs. Inoue exclaimed.

She smiled at him, thinking he would thank her for the compliment, but instead, Sukuna looked at her with pure hatred. How dare a vile mortal demean him in such a way? He was a king and always would be. He was about to raise his fingers to slit his throat, but you quickly entered the conversation.

“She means he looks really handsome!” You defended her, getting in between them to protect her with your body.

“Ah…” Sukuna quickly calmed down at the clarification. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Inoue and you sighed in relief. You asked the lady to leave the room, to which she quickly obeyed. “I was almost feeling like I was leaving,” she thought, holding her neck as she retreated to prepare for the coronation. As soon as she closed the door, you turned your gaze to him. Even though you had already seen him, your gaze scanned him again.

“And what do you think?” Sukuna asked you, adjusting his sleeves.

It was a difficult thing to answer. Sukuna as a king was intimidating, fierce, and shocking. A curse that imparts terror just by being in the room. But… There was something about him that you liked physically. His well-combed hair, his sharp gaze, and his well-defined abs. After living a year of curses, Sukuna was still the best looking.

“He looks perfect,” you replied with a smile.

Sukuna scanned your dress. The ruffles highlighted your cleavage, the corset narrowed your waist, and the skirt complemented your beautiful legs. He spun you around a couple of times like a lion about to bite. It was just what he had imagined for his coronation. A king couldn't be crowned without having a beautiful woman at his side.

“You look perfect too,” Sukuna answered bluntly.

Their eyes met, and the world seemed to stop at that moment. He took your hand with unexpected gentleness and placed a slow kiss on your knuckles. Heat rose to your cheeks immediately. You felt your heart racing, as if it wanted to escape from your chest, but this time you weren't going to let it dominate you. Now that you knew you were just a piece in his game, you promised yourself not to fall for his tricks. You waited a second, letting him hold your hand, and then, with a slight smile, you pulled it away to smooth out the dress with a certain indifference.

“Good job,” Sukuna congratulated the curse seamstress. “I want to see how the dress will look for the Zen'in ball.”

“It looks amazing, although…” The curse approached Sukuna to whisper something in his ear. “… it would look better on someone who fits into the dress.”

A tic attacked his left eye upon hearing that. He could accept that the curses killed, tortured or ate humans, but he would never accept that they made fun of their physique. Sukuna hid his lower arms behind his back. A reflex from his past that he hated more than anything.

“Y/n,” He called you. You looked up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

You looked at him through the mirror. Once upon a time you would have obeyed him without hesitation, but this time you hesitated. The uncertainty of not knowing what he was planning ate away at you inside, paralyzing you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally obeyed. A thin, precise cut resonated in the room, piercing the silence like a fatal warning. It was the unmistakable sound of death, an echo you would have recognized anywhere.

“You can open them now,” Sukuna whispered in your ear.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt his warm breath brush your ear. His firm hand descended to your shoulder, and, without giving you time to react, he pulled you towards him, turning you precisely on your heels. Before you could process it, he was leading you out of the room and into the hallway, his presence enveloping you like an inescapable shadow.

“What happened?” You stammered in confusion, looking back. A large pool of blood marred the beautiful ivory carpet.

“I got rid of a pest,” he said with a macabre smile. You had no choice but to follow him.

The murmur of the crowd increased with each passing second. The coronation was about to begin. Sitting next to Mrs. Inoue, you watched as Kenjaku took care of adjusting the last details of Sukuna’s outfit, making sure every fold was in place. From your seat, you looked at his broad back, his imposing figure ready to step out onto the balcony. Excitement vibrated in the air like an invisible current, but the king, unfazed, did not show a trace of nervousness.

“Ready, my king?” Kenjaku asked, reaching for the door handle to the balcony.

“I was born ready.”

Kenjaku opened the doors to the balcony, and the shout of curses rose in unison, echoing like a wild roar as Sukuna raised his arms, rejoicing in the frenzy of his followers. The curses jumped in excitement, elated at the sight of their new king. They cared little about King Jogo’s death; all that mattered was that an even more powerful curse would take the throne, protecting them and guaranteeing their right to hunt humans without interruption. For curses, there were no bloodlines, wealth, or territories. They only submitted to the law of the strongest.

“Curses, with you, King Sukuna Ryomen!” Kenjaku announced loudly for all to hear.

You looked out over the balcony and looked at the entire kingdom gathered in the courtyard of the castle. It was a festival of monstrosities, an ocean of creatures screaming and singing in wild celebration. The variety of their forms was overwhelming: huge and tiny, with twisted horns, tails, sharp teeth, and bodies that barely seemed possible. Some were almost human in appearance; others were nightmarish distortions, a veritable museum of oddities. Lady Inoue, at your side, looked away in fear, unable to bear the sight of that disturbing crowd.

“It has been six months since I defeated King Jogo. It has been six months since I conquered this beautiful land to make it my own and name it after myself…” Sukuna began his speech.

Under his command, the hubbub immediately died down. The first words of the leader of this new era were to be recorded in history, a moment that everyone there would remember until the end of their days. The curses present felt themselves to be witnesses of something momentous, an event that they would tell future generations with pride: “I was there.” Sukuna proclaimed his absolute power and claimed that he would drive the petty sorcerers from his sacred lands. He urged them to follow only his commands, promising that under his leadership they would prosper far more than they ever did under King Jogo.

“From now on, I will be your king and your lord! The only one you must obey for the rest of my life and the next to come!” Sukuna announced proudly.

Kenjaku approached him with a large box covered in a velvety red cloth, lifting it with ceremonious slowness. With a calculated gesture, he removed the cloth, revealing the magnificent crown that once belonged to King Jogo. It was a work of art made of pure gold, with sparkling rubies embedded around the entire circumference. Its design evoked flames, with spikes rising like tongues of fire frozen in metal. In the sunlight, each ruby sparkled, and the gold seemed to burn with a life of its own. It was an awe-inspiring sight, a jewel fit for a king.

Sukuna took the crown in both hands, raising it so that the ecstatic crowd could admire it. The sun sparkled from every facet, casting golden and scarlet reflections on the faces of those watching from below. You had never seen anything so imposing or beautiful in your life, and judging by the looks of the crowd, neither had they.

With confident movements, Sukuna placed the crown upon his head. In that instant, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Howls, barbaric cries, and indescribable sounds filled the air, a roar of wild euphoria that reverberated off the castle walls. Sukuna smiled from cheek to cheek, pleased. This was his moment; nothing could match the intoxicating feeling of power, of being the focus of all devotion.

And that, he thought, was the reason he always returned to this land he so despised: for the unmatched adrenaline of seeing an entire nation kneel before him, of feeling his strength and will subdue the masses. But this was only the beginning. When he finally extended his rule over the sorcerer kingdoms, when he crushed each of his enemies beneath his feet, the glory would be indescribable. A new era of obedience and terror was coming, and he, the one true king, would be in charge.

“My first order as king, I want to make it very special.” Sukuna looked at you with a smile as resplendent as his crown. “Y/n…”.

You looked at his hand extended towards you, stunned, as if it were a dream. Now all that deafening attention was focused on you. Your heart was pounding, and you felt the heat and nerves mix in a whirlwind that made it impossible for you to distinguish one from the other. With a slight tremor, you reached out your hand, and he took it with a firmness that anchored you to reality. At his side, on that balcony that seemed to rise like a pedestal, you understood the weight of the position you were in. Sukuna, the indomitable king, had chosen you for this moment.

“Remember this face because in less than a month you will be my equal,” Sukuna exclaimed. “My first order as the king of the kingdom of New Sukuna is…”

He extended his hand to Kenjaku, who handed him a small box wrapped in dark suede, the soft material contrasting with the hardness of the moment. It was almost unreal, but it was finally happening: the day you had waited for a long and torturous month, a time filled with doubt and anticipation.

Sukuna, the imposing king, knelt in front of you. The image was so powerful that you could barely breathe. Slowly, he opened the box, and inside it shone a ring that seemed to absorb and reflect all the light of day. The gold of the ring glowed as if it were alive, and in its center, a large oval-cut ruby sparkled with a deep red, as if it carried fire itself within it. Around the ruby, small flowers of finely cut diamonds sparkle, adorning it delicately. The order you had so long awaited finally happened:

“Marry me.”

There it was. Finally, he had spoken the words you had so longed to hear. But something was different, and it didn't feel the same as that first time. That afternoon in front of the piano had been one of the most beautiful moments of your life. The soft melody echoed in the room as the sun cast its last rays through the large window, bathing everything in a soft gloom just before the candles were lit. You remembered it clearly: his hands on the piano, yours brushing against his with every movement, as if that closeness was enough to break any barrier between you. There was an indescribable peace at that moment, a calm so deep that it made you forget, even for a moment, that you were next to a tyrant who had ordered you to kill one of your own.

Sukuna was a vile and ruthless tyrant, but even so, he managed to make you feel in a way that no one else could. You feared that intensity, not so much for what he could do to you, but for what you would be capable of doing for him. The first order had been clear: a test of loyalty. What else did he have planned for you in the future? Only he would know, and you had to be prepared for any dangerous storm.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted in jubilation at his words. With a bold gesture, Sukuna lifted you up and placed you over his shoulder, displaying you with unmistakable pride, as if you were a trophy worthy of his power. You could feel the strength in his grip, his confidence enveloping you as he lifted you up for all to see. You smiled nervously, trying to maintain your composure as you waved like a shy princess. The crowd responded with cheers and shouts, a sea of faces lit up with joy and devotion, while you, from on high, tried to adjust to this new role you had assigned yourself.

“Let us celebrate this new era until dawn!” Sukuna announced the beginning of the party.

The band of curses played with unbridled enthusiasm, their trumpets, tambourines and bongos resonating in a chaotic but festive rhythm. It was a grotesque carnival, full of creatures, dancing without rest, devouring enormous quantities of food and drinking as if dawn would never come. The echo of unknown songs bounced between the walls of the empty corridors, mixing with the guttural laughter and the roar of celebration. In the midst of that chaos, Sukuna's firm steps marked a different beat, resonating like a war drum. In the middle of the party, he had ordered you to follow him. He didn't give you time to obey; in the blink of an eye, he took your hand determinedly and led you away from the bustle, towards a silent room.

The meeting room was plunged into darkness. The armchairs, upholstered in fresh and austere fabrics, seemed to await long conversations that never happened. The stone table, imposing, cold and covered in a thin layer of dust, as if it had been forgotten. The curtains, thick and heavy, remained closed, enveloping the room in an air of almost suffocating privacy. A faint smell of storage floated in the air, testimony to the disuse of the place. The candles, extinguished, let the scarce light that filtered through the windows guide their movements.

Sukuna led you to an armchair and, with a gesture that seemed more like an order than an invitation, indicated that you should take a seat. You obeyed silently, placing your hands on your lap, where the ring that adorned your finger captured your attention for an instant. It was a bright and beautiful symbol, but also a reminder of the weight of the promise you had made to the king. Sukuna removed the heavy gold crown and placed it aside, needing a moment to rest from the burden of royalty. His face, though relaxed, did not lose its characteristic severity, and his gaze studied you in the dim light as if he were evaluating something more than just your presence.

“Happy?” Sukuna gently took your hand to kiss the ring.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You smiled.

“I was saving it to surprise you at the Zen’in ball, but I couldn’t wait any longer to call you mine.” Sukuna purred against your ear.

Sukuna gently pulled you closer, placing small, fleeting kisses on your cheeks, while his chest rested against your shoulder in a gesture that seemed both possessive and warm. The touch of his lips on your skin was enough to make you blush, but this time you were not going to let yourself be dominated by his calculated movements. Not anymore. You wouldn't let him play the same trick on you twice in a row.

"I'll be glad to, my king," you whispered.

With a determination that came from deep within you, you abruptly turned your face and captured his lips with yours. Your hands, firm but trembling, tangled in his hair, pulling him towards you. Sukuna let out a soft moan of surprise, the sound vibrating between the two of you like a low note. But far from stopping, his reaction was different: he adored your bravery, that spark that ignited something wild inside him. Without hesitation, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap, his large hands running over your body with a mixture of delicacy and greed, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every detail that made you unique. His golden accessories jingled with every movement, creating a hypnotic contrast with the intensity of the moment.

One of his hands slowly ascended your back, brushing each vertebra, until it rested on the back of your neck. With a slight tug, he pulled you towards him, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His other hand found your waist, gripping you with the same strength he had that confusing night, the night you understood nothing and he knew even less. Now, you were in the same page. His lips on yours spoke of understanding, of desire, of something deeper that neither of you dared name out loud.

His dark heart, full of ambition and shadows, beat hard against your chest, ecstatic to finally have you as he had fantasized so many nights. It wasn't just an act of passion; for him, it was a conquest, an achievement as addictive as any victory on the battlefield. The heat of his body seemed to envelop yours, as if the two of you could merge into one, as if the outside world ceased to exist in that instant.

When he finally pulled away, he did so slowly, as if he feared breaking something sacred between the two of you. His lips parted just enough to allow her to take a breath, while his gaze, dark and intense, remained fixed on yours. He still held your face, and at that moment, there was no trace of doubt: both of you were caught in a game that you could no longer, nor would you, stop.

“You have no idea what your letter has awakened in me.” Sukuna smiled, thinking you would kiss him out of excitement, but it disappeared when he saw your frown.

“What letter?” You asked innocently, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know what I’m talking about.” Sukuna tried to pull you towards him to kiss you softly, but you moved away to continue the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” You asked again. Sukuna’s frustration was starting to show.

“The love letter, the one you left under my pillow,” he explained, losing his patience over a stupid joke.

But the serenity on your face made it clear to him that you weren’t joking. Your eyes flickered with genuine confusion, and your lips remained still, not drawing the slightest curve that could be interpreted as mockery. Every line of your expression conveyed sincerity, and it disconcerted him more than he cared to admit. Sukuna sighed in exasperation and reluctantly pulled you off his lap.

“I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” you commented as the king paced back and forth across the room, wondering how he could get the truth out of you.

“Stop lying!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “You wrote this!” Sukuna pulled the heart-shaped letter out of his pocket to toss it to you. “Did he have it with him all this time?” you thought in amazement.

The delicate piece of paper, which was supposed to contain your most sincere feelings, gently landed on your lap like a leaf carried by the wind. You opened the letter instantly, letting your eyes scan each carefully written line. As you moved forward, the poetic and profound words were laying bare emotions that seemed not to be yours, but were signed with your name. Each sentence surprised you more than the last; the weight of its intensity hit you like an unexpected revelation. This was the first time you had read that letter.

“I wish I could write poetry as beautiful as this,” you commented as if you were talking about another novel in the library.

“You said you had a surprise, and boy was I surprised!” He exclaimed, pointing with his finger of anger, but at your silence, he exploded. “Just admit that it is your letter!”

“So many essays and reports that I have given you, and yet you still don't know how to recognize my handwriting?” You asked with some disappointment.

“What?!” Sukuna snatched the letter from you to examine it again.

He examined every stroke, every curve of the letters, every carefully formed word in each sentence. And there was the truth. Your handwriting, now more elegant and refined thanks to the calligraphy lessons Kenjaku had given you at the beginning of your classes, was unmistakable. The writing on the letter, however, was a mess. Messy, impulsive, lacking the discipline that marked your style.

How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind, so caught up in his own fantasy, that he did not perceive something so elementary? Reality hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, as if the entire sky had collapsed on his head, crushing him under the weight of his own blindness. His pride, as imposing as his conquests, now seemed to break into a thousand pieces in the face of such a simple and devastating truth.

“Also, how could I have made you two letters with a single sheet of paper?” You asked, confused.

The king’s scarlet eyes widened as he noticed you pulling another letter from your skirt pocket. For an instant, disbelief marked his features. Sukuna took the letter with firm hands, although surprise was evident in his grip. It was a letter to congratulate him on his coronation and the renaming of his new land: New Sukuna Kingdom. The words were proud and had no hint of romance.

This letter did not have the ornate frame like the one that decorated the love letter; it was simple, but it's handwriting, delicate and neat, was unmistakable: yours. As he inspected both letters, comparing them, his eyes darted between the stylized strokes of the new letter and the messy handwriting of the first. The difference was irrefutable. “How stupid I am!”

“So… Who is this letter from?” Sukuna looked at the love letter with some disappointment.

“Maybe some lover.” You crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Lover?! What are you talking about?!” Sukuna roared at such an accusation.

“No idea, but this…” You pointed at your engagement ring. “… It's still mine” You threatened in case I wanted to leave you for the author of the letter.

Sukuna clenched his fists, loaded with exasperation and something deeper: a pang of humiliation that pierced him like a dagger. Never, in his entire existence, had he sunk so low as at this moment, when for a fleeting and miserable second he allowed himself to believe that his fantasies could materialize. The mere idea of having nurtured that illusion infuriated him as much as it embarrassed him. He, the great king, the imposing tyrant, reduced to a naive dreamer by a simple game of letters.

“If you'll excuse me, I'll return to the party. Mahito promised to teach me how to dance,” you bowed and left the room full of confusion as quickly as possible, hiding a victorious little smile.

Sukuna collapsed into the chair, as if the weight of his own mind was crushing him. He put his hands to his head, his fingers pressing against his temples, in a vain attempt to sort out the chaos that consumed him. That you were not the author of the letter, that he had not been able to notice that the handwriting was not yours, and worst of all, that you faced his accusation with such devastating coldness, as if it had not affected you in the slightest. Each thought was a dagger that sank deeper into his chest, making the emptiness inside him feel like an infinite abyss.

The pain manifested itself in a way that he himself did not understand. A couple of treacherous tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, tracing unknown paths on a face accustomed to expressing anger, arrogance or mockery, but never vulnerability. Sukuna stood still, paralyzed by the disconcerting revelation: this was the first time he had cried in a long time.

But why? Was it helplessness at the broken illusion? Frustration with himself for having fallen for something so ridiculous? Rejection for what that brief conversation had made clear to him? You didn't have the same feelings for him. He knew that now. But then, why did you kiss him back? His mind returned again and again to that moment, searching for answers in the movements of your lips, in the way you looked at him. There was something there, something he couldn't figure out. He was lost, confused, and alone.

“Damn it!” Sukuna screamed, throwing the crown across the room, breaking a lamp into a thousand pieces, imitating his sad heart.

The party consumed you completely. You danced barefoot alongside Mahito, Dagon, Hanami, and the rest of the curses in a large circle on the parade ground. They jumped to the rhythm of the band's chase while a curse sang a ballad dedicated to the king. You smiled as Mahito guided you through the movements. Two steps to the left, one turn, then two steps to the right and repeat until exhaustion.

“Let the happy queen dance, let her dance!” The troubadour announced to the same rhythm of the catchy song.

“Let her come to the center, let her come!” Mahito pushed you from behind so you could enter the large circle.

The curses applauded euphorically as soon as you entered the improvised dance floor. Mahito and Hanami encouraged you from their places to bring out your best moves. With a blush rising to your cheeks, you decided to listen to the rhythm. As soon as you began to jump and spin with your hands up, the curses howled in approval. You laughed as the evening wind and the grass tickled your heels.

Everything was happiness until you saw the king on the balcony. He was looking at you with that same face you had seen in the mirror a couple of nights ago. That disappointed, humiliated and frustrated face of not getting what he wanted. You continued dancing so he could see you in all your splendor, until the song ended on a long note. You blew him a kiss in the air as soon as the song faded into the silence of the celebration. Sukuna's face was surprised by that action. It reminded him of that time when you shot his cheek, only this time you shot his heart again. He clenched the balcony railing in frustration that he could alter his emotions with so little.

The next song started, and the curses joined you to dance chaotically around you. You caught your breath after your big solo. Mahito danced with Hanami and Dagon. Kenjaku drank a glass of wine with Mrs. Inoue. Sukuna had finally expanded his kingdom. And you had taken your little revenge, but this was only the beginning of a new stage. You didn't know what the future held for you, but you were sure that you would emerge victorious, as you had Sukuna in the palm of your hand.

“Thank you, Yorozu, for teaching me your disgusting tactics,” You smiled at the ground because you knew that bitch would be wallowing in hell.

Masterlist.

taglist:

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady @danniwerner @paradisestarfishh

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

#sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #fanfiction #jjk imagine #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #tyrants favorite fanfic

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xxnashiraxx · 1 day ago

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With Stars to Fill My Dream (13) - Moving Through the Silence Without Motion

Whew- sorry, this one took longer than anticipated!! I was on vacation last weekend and couldn't make the last-minute changes I wanted to make that would have allowed me to post on Tuesday, but it's all done now! ☺ Back on schedule!

✧˖ Release Schedule: Every 2 Weeks ˖✧

Summary: The camp deals with the aftermath of their encounter with the dream visitor, and a certain fluffy friend joins their odd group of misfits. Ofelia experiences another embarrassing predicament, and their party finally enters the goblin camp to face down the three leaders and clear the way for the tieflings in the Grove. Branded by a priestess, rediscovering the luxury of coffee, and sharing a sweet opportunity with her favorite fanged companion aren't enough to cushion the blow of reality all while Astarion tries to sort through emotions he would rather not address.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,603

AO3

Took some fun screenshots!! Please enjoy the opening below the cut ❤

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart pokes her face into Ofelia’s tent, pale and clammy. Ofelia scrambles to wipe her tears away, nodding and meeting the half-elf’s eyes.

“Yeah… I think so… did you see it too?” Shadowheart’s lips set in a firm line, nodding softly.

“We all did. Here, it’s dawn… come out. Let’s all sit and talk around the fire.”

Ofelia heeds Shadowheart’s suggestion, pulling her boots on and fixing her hair into a loose bun, resolving to bathe before they start the day. Officially. She hesitates, once again finding her return to her bedroll to be a mystery.

The last thing she remembers is swaying in Astarion’s arms, thinking about how pretty he looked under the light of stars, music from her own world making her feel like they were in their own pocket in time, separated from the tadpole, the cult, all of it. She remembers wishing he’d been from Earth, that way she’d want to go back… And try as she might, she can’t bury these stupid feelings.

Her face flushes in shame at the memory of pressing that kiss to his cheek, that pang of longing when he hadn’t shoved her away but instead gazed at her in surprise… It makes forgetting that it happened ten times worse. Then she returned to her tent, somehow, a faint feeling of unease now clouding her mind. How did she get back? Did she go back alone? She can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something important, but she can’t put her finger on what it might be…

She walks out into the early dawn, stunned to find another surprise- a welcome one at that.

“Scratch!” Ofelia crumples to her knees as he runs up from beyond the outskirts of their camp, the rest of her groggy companions yelping or jumping out of the way as the dog barrels into her. “Oh, I’m so glad you're safe!” She mumbles into his fur as it pokes her neck and cheek and he nearly knocks her backward. He licks her face and barks and she scratches his ears, giving him little kisses on the snout and top of his head.

“Is that a dog? Oh my goodness!” Karlach cries tearfully, bringing a stick over. She seems to be talking to Scratch, but all Ofelia can hear are soft yips and excited growling. “He says he wants to stay if we’ve got the room?”

“Oh my god of course he can stay!” Ofelia sobs, wiping her eyes as Scratch licks the happy tears off her cheeks. “I love him so much,” She sniffles to Karlach and the two of them giggle and lead Scratch over to the fire as the rest of their companions huddle around.

“In addition to Lae’zel, we’re letting more than one mangy mutt stick around?” Astarion frowns, a sour look on his face. Ofelia scoffs as Gale hands her a steaming cup of tea, watching Lae’zel do no more than grunt and roughly shoulder the vampire out of the way on her path toward the fire. His affronted yelp and subsequent snarl make Ofelia laugh under her breath as she smiles at Gale in thanks and hands Scratch a couple of hunks of sausage from their stock.

“You all were approached in your sleep by the same visitor, weren’t you?” Astarion mutters, lips still twisted in displeasure. Ofelia regards his unkempt head of hair with an amused smile, feeling privileged to see him before he’s had a chance to put himself together for the day.

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spiralinghours · 3 days ago

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“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”

#mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x reader fic

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rafesangelita · 5 days ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆♡ 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..”

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agendabymooner · 6 months ago

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SOMETHING REWARDED !!! LANDO N. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: at the night of his first win, lando gave his sweet girl a reward for being his ‘lucky charm.’

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), miami gp 2024 spoilers (ish), standard smut, anal play if you blink, praise kink, titfucking, body worship-esque

note: this could’ve been published an hour after the race but i got busy. it didn’t eat as much but enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

lando’s partner wasn’t shy. she was just… reserved in the sweetest way possible. that’s what he loved about her. no amount of words could express how beautiful she was. her curves, her lips, her everything?

god lando was fucking in love with her.

anyone in miami might assume that she was feeling hot due to the sweltering weather. sure.

but lando knew the difference between the heat in her face when she’s under the sunny weather and when he whispers praises in her ears.

and he certainly knew what the heat rising in her cheeks meant when he had his hand between her thighs.

“lando…” she murmured softly, her face becoming hotter by than it was as lando hovered over her, “i- i-“

“shh…” lando tutted her with a smirk, “‘s okay, darling. ‘s just us.”

“i know,” she whispered back, “b- but you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight.”

“i told the boys i’m not showing up,” lando said, his hands were getting too generous for his touches to be just ‘teasing.’

lando won today. surely he can be something beyond generous, right? he got what he wanted for a long time, a long awaited victory.

it was only fair that his sweet girl got the brunt of that victory, too.

his lips attached themselves on her ear and nipped on it, eliciting a soft moan from her. pressing another kiss on her earlobe, lando whispered, “told them i’m too busy loving on my lucky charm.”

she let out a whine, her body squirming beneath lando’s towering ones while his hands slid her dress off.

she was left with nothing but a red lace knickers, her plump breasts eager to be devoured as lando growled quietly. his one hand created friction on her nipple while his mouth was attached to her other one.

“oh,” she let out a little whimper, her back arching just at the feeling of lando’s hands and mouth all over her. “hm-“

lando’s hands worshipped her like she deserved, gliding through her curves and between her thighs. the sweet whispers of, “lando” continued to escape her mouth.

“mmm… you’re so fucking pretty, my sweet girl,” lando murmured, his hands kneading and fondling her tits. “such good fucking tits, too.

precum leaked out of lando’s cock, his mind already feeling foggy with the thought of feeling her writhe beneath him.

“you don’t mind me fucking these tits, do you?” lando taunted her, knowing that she would say yes anyway. “can i fuck these tits, baby? hm?”

lando could have cum right there as his half-lidded eyes were trained on her flustered face. the woman didn’t show how excited she was, but she sure wanted him as much.

she bit her lip and nodded, her tits splayed out in the open. she held her breasts and squeezed them together.

lando grinned, moving up on the mattress with his cock gliding through her tits. lando let out a guttural groan, watching the tip of his cock disappearing each time he slid.

she whimpered, enjoying the sight of lando on top of her.

“fuck,” he cursed, thrusting his cock between her breast while she whined. “so good for me, baby. god, fuck. you’re gonna make me cum hard.”

“oh god…”

and if fucking her tits wasn’t any better, seeing the top of her tongue lick his moving cock became nothing but a cherry on top.

sure his first victory in miami was an achievement, but god his girlfriend was a delightful sight to see when she begged to be fucked too.

“hngh- oh god,” she whined lewdly, already too fucked out after her third orgasm of the night. from behind, lando watched himself glisten and slide out with her wetness coating his cock.

“so good f’me, darling,” lando crooned softly, thrusting into her wet cunt slowly.

she didn’t respond with anything but a muffled mewl, clutching the sheets drenched with the mess she made.

“ohhhh god fuck!” lando let out, his pace getting faster as her walls clenched around his girth.

“oh my god,” she whined, “so good, so good. fuck!~”

“such a good girl,” lando praised her, his hand snaking between her thighs to rub her clit. “let it out baby. you’re such a good girl.”

“i’m gonna cum again,” she stammered, her body squirming and writhing while being caged by lando. she could crawl away, her legs shaking vigorously as she felt her orgasm approach.

lando’s other hand glided on her ass, his thumb toying with her puckered hole as he muttered, “mmm… look at this hole of yours.”

“so tight and all,” lando commented, lust evident on his tone, “you’re gonna let me fuck this one of these days, aren’t you?”

“ngh-“

“yes?” lando chuckled darkly, “i know you said yes before. but…

“i want you to cum again,” lando whispered, his hand reaching up to tug on her hair. “cum on my cock darling. cum all over my cock.”

lando might be the victorious one today, sure, but nobody deserves a reward more than she did.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

#ln4 smut #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris #ln4 #f1 smut #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut #formula one smut #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one #formula 1

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krysmcscience · 5 months ago

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It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

#fanart #comics #cult of the lamb #cotl #narilamb #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl shitten #cotl mystic seller #cotl aym #cotl baal #aym and baal #this is why i have been especially quiet lately XD #even just the bonus stuff took several days to finish because i don't know the meaning of DOODLE anymore apparently #everything must be fully inked and colored with backgrounds I Fukken Guess #at least using medibang's sumi brush keeps me from focusing on making my lines perfect :\#and yeah i copy-pasta'd a lot of my own backgrounds don't at me bro #if you're on desktop and want to full view but don't know how: right click the image - open in new tab - zoom in as needed :)#feel free to ask questions about the AU if you want - but uh - this is basically the extent to which i've thought it through LOL #edit: oh right - aym and baal really out there assuming narinder already put the lamb's soul to rest so the body's just fodder now lmao #last edit i hope: fixed the transparent cult certified freak image 8|#nope - one more edit: there is one (1) loophole for how living mortals can be in the afterlife without dying #that loophole is currently narinder XD #'sorry universe but the god of death says i can be in here so back off with your rules and regulations'

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sea-lanterns · 11 months ago

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RIDE ME!

synopsis: (cowgirl! au) what's better than riding a horse? a cowgirl.

featuring: navia, dehya, shinobu, clorinde, beidou, arlecchino

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, strap ons, riding, reader on top for the most part, teasing, strap ons refered to as c.o.ck and other synonyms, pet names, possessiveness, jealousy, potential poor translation of french from google translate (navia), slight cunnilingus (shinobu), size kink (beidou), handcuffs (clorinde), degradation (clorinde, arlecchino), usage of whore/slut (clorinde, arlecchino), captor x prisoner dynamic (arlecchino), belly bulge (beidou), may be ooc.

art credits: black lagoon

NAVIA

“Oh my, your cute little legs are shaking so much, ma cherie!*”

Navia giggles to herself when you find yourself panting and struggling to take all of Navia’s length inside of you. The thick toy causing your throat to tighten and whine, because Navia just had to pick something so damn big and long to shove up your pussy.

“N-Navia…” you grit through your teeth, some of the air knocking out of your lungs when the woman suddenly bucked her hips forward. “Yessss?” She replies nonchalantly, a smug look on her face when she sees the way you were struggling to properly ride her. “Did’ya…have to choose the biggest toy you could find?” You groan while glaring down at her sarcastically.

“Oh honey, stop complaining…” Navia giggles, grabbing your hips and ripping a moan out of you when she begins bouncing you on her own. “You’re a big girl, so you can take a big dick on your own, hm?”

With each riveting thrust, Navia had you bouncing on her hips like you were some excited little bunny, a look of pure satisfaction on the cowgirl’s face when she got an up close view of your pussy swallowing her cock each time you moved up and down. The sight was utterly breathtaking for the legendary cowgirl of your town, and you saw that she was in fact drooling a little bit from the way your cum was dripping down her shaft.

“Oh, baise-moi, tu es si belle*.” Navia mumbled under her breath, eyes glazing over in a mesmerized way. “I can’t believe you’re mine…”

She chuckles at the way your body twitches from the constant hammering of her hips, so she decides to cut the tension a bit by grabbing her cowgirl hat lying on top of the night stand and placing it over your eyes.

“There, now you look like a proper cowgirl.” Navia giggles, clutching your hips and smiling at the way her oversized hat tilts forward to cover your eyes. “Now ride me properly, you silly cowgirl. No horse is too big for you to tame…”

She lets out another cheery smile and continues to brutally thrust her hips at that.

English translations taken from Google Translate: *my love, *fuck me, you’re so beautiful

DEHYA

“(Chuckle), is the princess unable to tame this bull on her own?”

Dehya smirks cockily at the way you trembled like a leaf on top of her, the look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to get all seven inches of her strap deep inside you. You would’ve gotten all of it fitting snugly by now, but Dehya had been teasing you for the entirety of your session, smirking and gently patting your hips in a condescending manner, that really had you distracted to the point you struggled greatly with even fitting the first few inches.

“Oh, princess…” Dehya chuckles, eying the way your pussy was just drooling over her shaft like it was trying to lube itself as much as it could. Probably because it needed that much lube in the first place, and the sheer amount of precum you were excreting was enough to make your ears go hot in shame. “I’ve never seen you produce so much slick without orgasming, darlin’”

“Shut up…!” you whimpered, giving Dehya a snarky glare. “I’m not used to riding you on top!”

“It’s really not that hard, babe,” Dehya sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Trust me, riding a woman is a lot easier than riding a bull, and I know from both experiences.” She clicks her tongue and winks at you. “So why don’t you give it another shot, come on, I know you can do it.”

She gives you an encouraging pat on the ass and leans back, making sure to stretch her stomach a little bit so her abs could shine under the sunset’s rays. The sight of Dehya looking so relaxed and confident in you gave you the little boost you needed to ease up and slowly slide down to the hilt.

With a strangled gasp, you let out a pretty little whine that made Dehya practically groan with pleasure. “Such a pretty noise you made there, princess,” Dehya husks, trailing one of her thumbs to push at your clit. “Can you make more? You’re usually singing like a canary by now…”

She chuckles and helps you ease down the rest of her cock, noting the tiny twitch in your legs as you struggle to ground yourself to reality. “Ah, poor thing’s all tuckered out just from sitting down,” Dehya grins, sitting up slightly to whisper in your ear. “Would you like this bull to help ride for you?”

When you were unable to respond, feeling too unbearably full from her cock, Dehya smirks and shifts her hands to rest on your hips. “I guess that’s a yes from the pretty little lady.”

Holding you close to her muscled body, she begins to thrust upwards at a brutal place, tip hitting so deep inside you it had you bouncing till you weren’t even moving on your own…

SHINOBU

“Having difficulty, sweet thing?” Shinobu whispers in that raspy voice of hers, eyes glinting forwards at you like a cat, as she watches the way you involuntarily jerked at her thrusts from her strap on pounding inside you. Shinobu was by no means a gentle woman of any kind, yet when it came to you, the sweet darling bachlorette of small town Inazuma, the outlaw was considerably generous to you, given by the fact that she could wreck your delicate pussy at any time she wanted.

With that in mind however, Shinobu was being awfully patient with how long it took for you to adjust to her strap. The toy was not even breaking five inches, yet when you tried to stuff it inside you from the top —eager to ride Shinobu like a first time rodeo gal— you almost cried from the sheer stretch you felt of her shaft spearing you open.

“Oh, baby…” Shinobu hummed to herself out of pity, reaching a hand forward to ease your walls a little more by playing with your clit. “You gotta loosen up, babe. I’m about to slip right out again if you’re this tight right now…”

“S-Sorry…” you grimaced, trying desperately to get your body to relax. “I don’t know why it won’t go in…”

“You’re too tense, babe.” Shinobu chuckles, pulling her bandanna down to slip her long tongue out to lick at her teeth. “Do you want me to help you? I certainly can, all you need to do is ask…”

With the way she was licking her teeth seductively and showing off her impressively long tongue, you felt your cunt drip a bit more as just the sight of it had you drooling out of arousal. “Yes please,” you mumble softly, letting Shinobu lift you off her cock and place you back down on the bed. She eased herself lower so that she was now eye level with your cunt, and began licking slow, languid strokes with her tongue until she was able to see your folds loosen up a bit.

“Atta girl…” Shinobu mumbles breathlessly, gripping your thighs to keep you from squirming and pressing deep nail indents into your skin. “Tastier than any ambrosia they serve at that damned bar…”

She groans and pulls you down to kiss at your stomach, playfully nipping the skin right above your belly button before staring up at you hungrily.

“Do you still wanna ride me, doll?” She asks in a husky tone.

You shake your head no.

“Tch, spoiled girl…” she grins and raises your legs up on her shoulders so that she can angle her strap to fuck you. “You should be grateful I’m so lenient on a sweet thing like you…”

And with that, she has you clawing at the sheets as the outlaw prods her tip through your folds…

CLORINDE

“What a naughty girl, unable to keep your hands to yourself…”

Sheriff Clorinde smirks to herself as the jingle of your handcuffs move with every bounce you take on Clorinde’s strap. The sheriff having chosen a curved, purple dildo as a strap for you to ride on, as this was your punishment for provoking the sheriff while on duty for patrol.

How did you provoke her you may ask? Well, let’s just say parading around in a short skirt, casting flirtatious winks at the gunslinger and whispering how much you wanted her to destroy you was a one way ticket to pound town with Clorinde and your hands bound together with metal cuffs.

“But Sheriff, I was only vying for your attention…” you pouted, whining when you felt her hands grip your ass and keep you seated downward on the smooth, warm, toy.

“Vying for my attention, you say?” Clorinde raises a brow, tugging on the chain between your cuffs so that you’d suddenly lurch backwards with a yelp. “Nearly the entire town saw the way you were crooning for me. Don’t you have any shame?”

She gave a particularly hard thrust at the word shame, grinning to herself when she saw the way you began leaking all over the toy and crying. “What’s wrong you needy girl, have you sprung a leak?” She teases, trailing a finger down to scoop up some of your essence. “Weren’t you whining for my attention earlier? Come on, where’s that excited spark I saw earlier…”

She continues to roll her hips —albeit at a slower pace— before tilting her head up at you and sighing. “You know better than to make me jealous, sweet thing.” She sits up to whisper in your ear and holds your waist a little tighter. “Navia, Furina, and practically all the cowgirls in town had seen you parading yourself in such ludicrous ways. Only I have the pleasure of seeing you, alright?”

She grunts and begins to roll her hips a bit faster, practically grinding into you to the point all you could feel down there was Clorinde’s strap rearranging your insides.

“Clorinde…” you gasped when she suddenly pulled you forward to place a delicate little kiss on your mouth, completely contrasting the way she was currently pummeling you with her cock till all you could see were stars.

“That’s sheriff to you, slut.”

BEIDOU

“Well damn, I didn’t know a gal as sweet as you could take a cock this well…”

Beidou laughed as she rested back on the bed frame and placed her arms behind her head. She looked as relaxed as can be while she watched the prettiest girl in town —that’d be you— lazily bounce on her strap with determination. Usually the rugged cowgirl would be on top of you, molding your body to fit hers as she pounded her cock to the oblivion, but this time you wanted to try something different. Something you always wanted to do ever since watching Beidou wrangle some of those wild horses.

“I admit, when you first asked to ride me, I didn’t think you were serious,” Beidou sneers, “But after seeing how determined you are, it seems like you’d make quite the good cowgirl if you keep this up.”

She smiles and tilts your chin up to look at her, an endearing grin on the cowgirl’s face as she continues letting you “take the reins” so to speak.

“Like I’d ever want to ride a horse though,” you chuckle jokingly, barely hiding a moan as it slips past your lips. “I’d rather just tame a woman…”

“You already did, darlin’” Beidou smirks, pushing you down a little further till there was a slight bulge in your stomach from her cock. “You could tame any woman out here if you could, ya little rascal…”

Your body involuntarily shuddered when you felt her tip push so deep inside you, the ridged edges of her strap feeling so good against your walls, as they milked her for everything that she was worth. “Gentle now…” you groaned, feeling stuffed to the brim from the way she was handling you. “Is this how you treat all the ladies you bed with?”

“No, just this lady.” Beidou chuckles. “Am I too rough?”

“Not…exactly.” You whimpered, steadying yourself as Beidou bucks her hips a bit harder. “I just need to get used to it, that’s all…”

Beidou smiled softly at this, before murmuring a curse under her breath and pushing her bangs back in amusement. “Oh fuck me little lady…you’re absolutely precious…”

She can’t stop herself from grinning before grabbing your hips and helping you bounce up and down her shaft. At the extra pressure and boost in speed, you nearly creamed yourself and cried while Beidou kept you upright in her arms.

“Well if you’re so lenient on me being a bit rougher, then perhaps I shouldn’t be so gentle on you anymore, little lady…”

And she kept her word, having you eyes roll back in bliss as she leans forward to suck a nipple into her mouth.

ARLECCHINO

“Tch…I see why that small town of yours was so angry at me for taking you…” Arlecchino husks, the smoke from her cigar fogging up your senses while you sit upright on her lap with her cock buried inside you. “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?”

She slips the cigar out of her mouth and puts it out on the ashtray beside her, blowing some smoke into your face and watching as you grimace and cough with a frown. “Sensitive too,” she remarks, smirking and caressing your face with the sharp nails you were oh so terrified of.

“A-Anyone would grimace if they had smoke blow back in their face…” you grunt, glaring down at your captor while you rode her strap with need. “It’s rude to do that anyhow, y’know.”

“I think you’re forgetting I’ve done much ruder things,” the bandit leader chuckles with amusement. “For example, kidnapped you and kept you for ransom. Isn’t that much worse than blowing smoke in your face, doll?”

Your face scowled down at her and she only grinned at the way you were pouting. “Oh, don’t make that face sweet thing. It’s not like I have you tied up and chained to a post in the desert. You willingly came in here to fuck me, so don’t act so innocent now…”

She flashes you a sneering look before moving her hips a bit rougher so that you could really feel how hard and perfect her cock felt inside you. The way your lips part and glisten with barely contained drool had Arlecchino stroking her ego faster than you could come undone. The sight of your town’s prized jewel now drooling and riding her cock with pathetic need was sending the bandit leader into another state of superiority.

“Oh how I wish that sheriff of yours could see you now,” Arlecchino chuckles, “Clorinde was it? My, she was seething at the way I had you gripped in my arms. She looked like she would shoot me dead right on the spot if I hadn’t been carrying you.”

She was on a power trip, a glistening of madness in those red, X-shaped pupils of hers, as she began bouncing you harder against her strap.

“You like that though, I know. A whore like you just loves being the center of attention amongst all those rugged cowgirls…”

She scoffs and sits up to bite a hickey onto your neck, enjoying the way you squirmed and clung onto her shoulders immediately once you felt her teeth on your skin.

“Tell you what, once that sheriff of yours comes up with the sum of money I want, you send her back a little message for me, m’kay?” She growls and practically grips your ass into her clawed hands. “I want you to show her every little bite, hickey, and scratch I leave on your body, so she knows you had fun with me in my tent. Got it?”

You nodded enthusiastically before whining at the way she was now speeding her thrusts.

“Good whore.”

#navia smut #navia x reader #dehya smut #dehya x reader #shinobu smut #kuki shinobu smut #shinobu x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #clorinde smut #clorinde x reader #beidou smut #beidou x reader #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #cowgirl au #genshin women smut #genshin women x reader #genshin imagines

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mygnolia · 4 months ago

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HOW ENHYPEN LOVES YOUR CAT !

୨୧ -› how's that fair? my cat likes you more than me, i swear.

pair -› bf!enhypen x cat owner!reader | wc -› 1.7k | no warnings!

NOTE: you have a gray tabby cat named pickles!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ LEE HEESEUNG

when you come home, your cat immediately notices a new addition, and he curiously emerges.

“sorry,” you warned your boyfriend in advance, “he might not be super friendly.” your cat walks up to heeseung slowly, who’s crouched down and about to take his shoes off to get closer to your pet- and crazily enough- your cat doesn’t seem to be running away? For maybe the first time ever, you’re seeing your cat nudge himself against your boyfriend's leg and asking for pets. you watch them fondly, with a smile on your face as you see pickles sit on heeseung’s lap, with his head on your boyfriend’s thigh and eyes fluttering shut with a purr. your boyfriend’s subjected himself to not waking up your cat, and grabs his phone, not even bothering to try and move. you tut disapprovingly at your spoiled cat, and you sit down next to heeseung to scratch at pickle’s chin.

“here, if you want to lay down or get comfy i’ll take him off- he never does this.” but heeseung refuses, continuing to pet the sleepy cat in his lap.

“no, it’s okay baby. can’t you see pickles here and i are best friends?”

more under the cut!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK JONGSEONG

you warned jay that despite his excitement to see your cat, that your pet wasn’t super social and despite all of your friends trying to get pickles to come to them or even be in the same room, it would prove to be almost impossible. the cat had a mind of his own as he stayed anywhere in the house that he saw fit, and therefore, it was rare for your cat to be seen outside of sleeping on a windowsill or eating. and after jay takes off his shoes, he looks around for a gray feline that could be anywhere, but to no avail, and when your boyfriend looks back at you, the look on your face screams ‘i told you so.’

it’s not until later, when you two are laying in your bed watching something on your laptop that you hear a meow from the hallway outside your bedroom. and jay springs up, excited at the opportunity to finally meet the infamous avoidant pet.

with doubt that they’ll even get to interact, you stretch and close your laptop, but a call of your name has you wandering outside with curiosity.

you see jay, with your cat, who’s meowing anytime jay doesn’t give him pets. “i told you it’d happen.” he says with a smug grin.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SIM JAEYUN

“you can’t play with pickles like he’s a dog.” you glare at jake, wanting to protect your baby from the rougher pet owners who might mishandle him. jake rolls his eyes, shooing you away as you walk back to your place.

“i’m a natural. any pet will love me.” and you smile, amused at his confidence as you open the door. with a few calls of his name, your pet comes running, nudging his face against your leg with excitement now that you’re back home. your cat has always been super affectionate and sweet, which is why you’re scared that the way jake plays with layla will translate over to how he interacts with your cat; an animal that’s much smaller and gentler. but you see jake fishing out his keys and dangling them in front, giggling at how your cat gently swaps at the jingling sounds. you place your stuff to watch them play around more, with your boyfriend sitting cross legged as your cat jumps higher and higher to hit the various keychains jake has.

when your cat swats the keys and it unexpectedly falls to the ground, your pet pounces to push it around and kick at it, leaving jake to beckon you over. “see? you had nothing to worry about.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK SUNGHOON

if there’s only thing you should know about sunghoon, is that he is unfortunately loyal to gaeul, and always thinks that his dog is better than any pet around- including his best friend’s.

so when you open the door to your place to see sunghoon looking for something specific, you’re worried he’s left something from last time with the way he’s turning all the corners sharply. “there you are!” you hear him say, before you also hear a meow in response.

the only thing is- your cat almost never meows. it leaves you confused as you walk over to your boyfriend with your stuff still in hand, watching the boy pet pickles with a small smile on his features. sunghoon adores the way pickles purrs and closes his eyes, relaxed.

what was up with the grumpy, quiet cat you knew, and the gaeul dog supremacist you had for a boyfriend?

he suddenly gets up to place his bag down on the table while also taking off his coat, and you expected your cat to run to its owner, like how he usually does if sunghoon’s not around. and yet, pickles continues to confuse you even further, when he meows for the second time today and immediately follows your boyfriend, swatting at his dress pants. “you just love me so much, huh?” and he tells your cat the same thing he said to you just a few days ago, which leaves a small streak of jealousy in your scowl.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ KIM SUNOO

your cat has never been social- much to the disappointment of your boyfriend, sunoo. he sits there with a pout as he tries to click his tongue and tap the floor in hopes to attract the very disinterested ‘pickles’ into his lap. sunoo loves cats, and usually the neighborhood strays run to him when he offers treats- but this time, his cat radar’s been rejected.

“i can’t believe pickles doesn’t want to be with me. that’s like- the first time it’s ever happened.” and his pout is apparent in the way he talks, even if you’re not looking at him. you turn around with a smile, joining sunoo on your bed as you give him a comforting hug. he returns your sentiment, and naturally, you two shift into a more comfortable position where you lay on his chest and he gently detangles parts of your hair, telling each other about your day.

you almost fall asleep considering how calm and quiet everything is; your boyfriend holding you close, talking about the book he’s reading, and a quiet playlist in the background until he hears a small meow and a furry figure suddenly dipping on the bed.

and although you’re too far into sleep to celebrate his victory, sunoo smiles to himself. “i knew you’d come around.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ YANG JUNGWON

jungwon’s likeness to cats (proclaimed by his friends ONCE and he just accepts it) proves himself to be useful when he meets your cat again. for a feline so reserved and independent, you’re used to seeing your cat’s soft cuddly side only in your bedroom or when he’s feeling particularly lonely. and pickles always knows what he wants- so if you’re giving him too many chin scratches- he’d definitely nip your hand in warning.

you tell jungwon all of this to make sure he doesn’t leave with a scratch on his pretty face, and you’re far too scared to ruin the excitement he has when it comes to playing with your pets (since…maeum is…interesting!). you can tell you boyfriend is a cat magnet when your cat not only emerges immediately, but also comes up to sniff jungwon and immediately ask for pets. without any other choice, jungwon sits down, scratching pickle’s cheeks and watching the cat’s eyes flutter shut. and for a moment when your pet worms his way out of jungwon’s grasp, you’re worried he’s going to leave- but instead, pickles lays down on the floor his white belly in the air as he meows and looks at jungwon expectedly. you pout, setting your stuff down to join the two of them and rub his stomach. “pickles never does that with me!” you tell him, almost a little annoyed.

jungwon smirks. “i guess i’m pickles’ favorite now.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ NISHIMURA RIKI

because riki hasn’t seen bisco in a while, you wanted to bring him back to see your cat, despite your boyfriend’s obvious affinity for more energetic pets. and although you know it’s not the same, riki smiles at your effort, planting a few kisses to express his gratitude before you two come back to your pet. walking in, you notice pickles on the couch, and you’re thankful not to have to search for him and ultimately give up when your cat is taking a nap. riki, who’s eager to play with animals, immediately takes off his shoes and sets down your things, running over to your cat to snuggle into his fur. you watch them with mirth, seeing how the boy tries to gently pick up the cat and chases pickles around the house when the pet doesn’t want to be held. at least they’re both having fun.

riki emerges from your bedroom waving a squishy fish toy and snatching it away before your cat can reach it, and he continues to until you join him from behind, sinking down to his level as your arms wrap around him and your head rests on his shoulder. he teases your pet with the toy one last time, before throwing it into the room across from him and letting pickles chase it to get some alone time with you. riki turns around to let you lean against his chest, his arms wrapping around your torso as you two sit on the ground and enjoy each other’s presence.

the simplicity of the moment is ruined when pickles comes back with the fish toy, squeaking it next and dropping it, eyes shining with anticipation. “woah. your cat plays fetch better than bisco.”

permanent fic taglist (send ask or dm to be added): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll

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obsesssedblerd · 4 months ago

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oh, the idea of satoru attempting to get his hands on you numerous times throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted (bc y’know, he’s a busy sorcerer) and then finally snapping because he’s so pent up that he can’t think about anything other than fucking you makes me giggle.

smut under the cut. MDNI. also, barely proof-read so sorry for mistakes lol.

----

You squeal with excitement when you hear the door to the apartment unlock. Satoru was home. Finally, he was back after spending two weeks away on business. The moment you see just a glimpse of his white hair, you rush towards him and wrap him in a tight hug, him lowering his Infinity just in time to scoop you off of your feet. You're hit with the scent of his cologne, the feel of his soft hair underneath your fingers, and you sigh in relief. Finally.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets with his usual smirk as your legs wrap around his waist. “Miss me?”

He kisses you before you can respond, so you settle for humming into his mouth. He walks you both over to the living room, gently setting you on the couch before climbing on top of you. Your hands fumble with his jacket, and he helps you out by taking it off. He breaks away from your mouth to start doting messy kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Mmm, fuck. Missed you too,” he says, his voice deep with lust. “Been wanting this for so long, baby.”

His phone vibrates, and he ignores it, deciding to focus on pulling your shirt up instead. When it continuously vibrates with multiple calls, he sighs irritatedly and pulls it from his pocket to see Yaga’s name on the screen.

You giggle from underneath him, pulling your shirt back down and sitting up. “I think you should get that.”

“This isn’t over,” he promises. He gets up and answers the phone, holding it up to his ear. “This better be important. …Huh?! I just got back from a mission, what the hell do you mean the higher-ups want to talk?!”

— — — —

“Alright, you all. That’s it for today,” you conclude your lesson with a clap, and the second years begin to gather their things. “Geto will meet you all in the field so you can have a lesson that’s a bit more active. Have fun!”

They all express their excitement, then make their way outside of the classroom. They pass Satoru on the way out, who had just arrived only a few minutes before the end of your lesson. “Yeah, yeah, what she said. Hey, Okkotsu!”

“Yes?” Yuta calls back.

“Remember to—”

“Work on that cursed energy control. Yeah, I got it,” the boy groans.

You shake your head with a tiny laugh as Satoru shuts the door to the classroom. “I swear, Yuta is trying his best. He’s— Whoa!”

Your back suddenly hits the wall, and Satoru is in front of you. His blindfold is raised, and you see the utter hunger pooling in his blue eyes before he’s kissing you, similar to the way he did that morning. You moan into his mouth, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “Mmm, fuck. T-Toru, we’re—”

“Shhhhh,” he hushes against your lips. “Didn’t I tell you that this wasn’t over?” His hand begins to trail further down your body, eager fingers hurriedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Just try to be as quiet as possible, baby. I’ll be quick. Gonna make you feel so good—”

He’s cut off with a knock at the door. “Gojo, are you in here?”

Nanami.

“Busy!” He yells, a bit on the harsher side.

“You’re with [Y/L/N] right now. Her lesson with the second years just ended. You do know that around this time, you’re supposed to be training the first years, right?”

Satoru looks at the clock at the wall, then winces. It’s true, but still, he desperately needed you, otherwise he thought that he’d explode. “Just tell them I’m—”

“Can’t. They’re right here with me,” Kento says flatly. “They’ve been waiting for at least half an hour.”

You hear Yuuji’s excited voice next. “Hey, Gojo-sensei! How was your mission?!”

“Itadori, no need to shout. Seriously, we’re all right here,” Megumi grumbles.

“I’m with Fushiguro on this one,” Nobara comments.

Satoru groans into your shoulder, and his fist hits the wall. Unable to take his strength, it caves, leaving a nice-sized hole next to the chalkboard. You stifle a laugh. Thank goodness that this wasn’t your classroom and you were only borrowing it.

He inhales sharply, then masks his annoyance and sexual frustration with a smile. “Alright! Be out in a second!” He calls out to them.

He sees you laughing into your hand, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Just wait ‘till later.”

— — — —

‘Later’ was far later than Satoru had hoped. After training the first years, Yaga talked to him about the next exchange event and how they were behind on planning, and then he had to shadow the second years on a mission that lasted what felt like forever.

You’re back in the apartment, humming as you finish tidying up the living room. You grab the basket of laundry, sit down, and begin folding towels. It was close to eight in the evening. You’re about to grab your phone to check on Satoru when you hear the door opening.

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that I’d have to come and help out,” you say without looking up. “I mean, yeah, the curse was lower-ranked, but sometimes the second years—” You cut yourself off with a surprised scream as Satoru effortlessly hoists you with one arm, puts you over his shoulder and walks in the direction of your bedroom. Once you’re in there, he lightly tosses you on the bed, then yanks off his blindfold. His eyes are dark with a mixture of the hunger you saw earlier, and frustration.

“No more bullshit,” he says as he climbs over you, gathering your wrists and pinning them above your head. “If someone else interrupts, I might just hollow purple them.” When he kisses you, it’s far more intense than he’s ever kissed you today. His tongue explores your mouth, and you moan from the dizzying, yet pleasurable sensation. It’s not long before you’re both panting. His hands grip your shirt, and the sound of fabric tearing fills your ears. You gasp, your mouth falling open in shock when the scraps of your shirt as well as your bra are tossed aside.

Satoru is breathing hard above you, nearly drooling as he stares at your upper body, his white hair beautifully framing his face. He dives in and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back arches off of the bed when you feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud, and you whine his name needily. He moans, alternating between using his teeth to leave gentle love bites on your tits and using his tongue on your nipples. It’s messy, greedy, and you don’t ever want it to stop.

Finally, he kisses further down your stomach, pulling down your leggings along with your panties and tossing them to the bedroom floor. He spreads your thighs, then licks a long stripe up your pussy, a loud, shameless groan of relief escaping him when he finally tastes you. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he sighs, and he smiles devilishly up at you as he readjusts his hold on your thighs. “Think this pussy missed me just as much, if not more. She’s fucking soaked.”

He only gives you a split second to take a breath to prepare yourself, then he’s devouring you as if he were poisoned and the antidote was inside of your pussy. His tongue swipes expertly across your folds, then it flicks against your clit. You bury your hands into your hair as pleasure zips through your body, the rest of the world fading away until all that’s left is you and Satoru. “Toru- Ohhhhh shit, baby. Fuck-” You gasp desperately when he gently sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s moaning loudly, drunk off of the taste of your pussy and from the feeling of you pulling his hair.

You grind your hips against his face when you feel a knot beginning to form in your lower stomach, your breath stuttering as it tightens. You knew that this orgasm was going to blow any orgasm you gave yourself during the last two weeks while he was away on business completely out of the water. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you manage to tell him in between pants. “Oh, god, Toru, right there, right there, right there-” You feel your body begin to clench, ready to release.

But then, Satoru stops.

You whine frustratedly as your orgasm fades away before you could reach it, looking down at your boyfriend in between your thighs, who’s smiling deviously. “That was for laughing at me earlier,” he says after licking the rest of your juices off of his lips. “Not so funny now, is it?””

On a normal day, you’d be stubborn and attempt to piss him off, but today was different. Your head rests on the pillow, and your chest rises and falls with every pant, groaning in defeat. “Satoru, please,” you beg, keeping your voice as low as possible so he doesn’t hear the utter desperation.

Satoru feigns confusion, and you see the pure delight in his eyes. Little shit. “Sorry, baby, what was that?” he asks.

“Please,” you repeat louder. “Make me cum.”

He hums as he pulls off his shirt. “I’ll think about it.” He stands up, and you sit up to help him with his pants, eager to taste him and take his cock down your throat. You pull his underwear down, and he stops you when he catches onto what you’re doing. “Another time, baby. Right now, I just really need to fuck you.” He kisses you once, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. “It’s been too long. Lay back.”

You lie back on the mattress, and he grabs your legs to gently pull you towards the edge of the bed, then places them on his shoulders. He slides his cock in, and the both of you moan in relief. Satoru doesn’t waste any time and starts fucking you fast, which you two needed. Being separated for two weeks on top of the usual stress of missions and teaching was horrible for you both. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Satoru moans loudly, not caring if anyone else heard, his eyes practically rolling into his head from the pleasure. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

He slows the speed of his thrusts, but intensifies them by going harder, the salacious sounds of his hips meeting yours filling the room. Satoru looks down at you, taking in the o-shape of your mouth, your closed eyes and the way you're gripping the bedsheets as you whimper his name. He has to bite the inside of his mouth so he doesn’t cum too quickly.

“Sat- Satoru,” you moan out deliriously as you open your eyes, gasping when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- Ah- so deep.” Tears blur your vision, and your boyfriend chuckles as he leans down closer to you, his thrusts relentless. Satoru kisses your cheek, then uses a thumb to wipe away a tear.

“Aw,” he coos condescendingly into your ear. “You cryin’?”

Your nails drag down his back, and he reaches in between where your bodies are connected to rub gentle circles on your clit. You feel that knot begin to form again, far more intense than before since you were edged earlier. “F-Fuck, Toru, I-” You’re cut off when his mouth meets yours for another messy kiss. He continues rubbing your clit, and you whimper behind his lips. He groans when your pussy begins to tighten around his cock. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself as your breathing begins to come out in short bursts.

“Let go, baby, it’s okay,” Satoru purrs into your ear. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

Your legs tense, your toes curl, and stars fill your vision as your orgasm takes you by force. You’re screaming his name as your body trembles, and Satoru murmurs encouragement into your ear as he fucks you through it. “Thaaaat’s it, pretty girl,” you hear, then he groans, also so close to finishing, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuck, baby...”

Though you’re dizzy from your orgasm, you muster enough focus to kiss him. You stroke his face, lovingly run a hand through his hair, then wrap your legs around his waist to bring him in even closer, encouraging him to give everything to you. You wanted him to cum—needed him to. The kiss and the faint pulsing of your pussy pushes him over the edge, and Satoru moans loudly into your mouth as he stills, spilling his thick load deep within you and coating your walls. He cums hard, his grip on you tightening as he breathes heavily. Finally, he collapses, but is careful not to crush you with his weight.

Both of you are silent for a moment, remaining with each other as you mellow in the aftershocks of your orgasms. “Shit,” Satoru breathes out with a small laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. I thought I blacked out for a second.”

You laugh with him, then press a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.”

“Happy to be back. Missed you like crazy. Can’t believe I had to wait all day for that.”

“Missed you too, and same here, but you gotta admit, it was funny.”

Satoru tenderly smiles down at you, and your heart stutters at the sight of it. You were always weak for that specific smile. “It was, but, uh… you wanna know something else that might be funny?”

“Hm?”

“We broke the bed.”

“....What?”

----

a/n: I just had to add "the" line lol. I couldn't resist.

#jjk x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru smut #satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #written by rey <3 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #my writing #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo imagine #satoru imagine #sorry y'all I was horknee af

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pedgito · 4 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah.

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!”

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety.

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets.

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home.

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows.

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong.

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look.

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things.

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow.

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself.

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though.

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown.

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.”

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light.

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know.

So, you do.

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t.

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you.

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think.

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you.

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate.

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier.

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts.

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?”

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you.

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.”

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout.

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking.

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright.

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression.

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind.

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight.

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself.

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach.

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan.

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #absolution

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princesssmars · 16 days ago

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abby who definitely doesn’t have a thing for showing you off. nsfw.

you remember a certain night a while when you had started dating abby, both curled up on her couch and cozied under a blanket while watching one of your comfort movies. the man on screen was getting jealous at someone hitting on his girlfriend in a bar, and you’d passively asked her if she’d do the same for you.

“ok, be honest. if someone bc was hitting on me in front of you, how would you react?”

“i’d hope as soon as they saw me they’d stop. but i’d probably just tell them to leave you alone unless they escalate.”

“aww, you’re so cordial. so you wouldn’t punch someone in the face for me?”

“of course, but i’m definitely not throwing the first one. i like you but a night in jail is a little too extreme for me.”

you’d laughed together and averted your attention back to the movie, cuddling up closer to her side. at this point the couple had returned to their home, the man pressing the woman up into the wall as he left a collage of love bites over her neck and shoulders.

“what about that? would you do that to me?”

you could feel the woman next to you as she slightly shifted her body, suddenly jittery in her position.

“what like…leave marks on you? for other people to see?”

“yeah, then everyone would already know i’m taken. would save you some time instead of yelling at pervs.”

she let out a stunted little chuckle when you pressed a small kiss to her cheek and grabbed her hand to hold in yours. you noticed the way her eyes locked into the screen when the couples actions started getting heated, the way her chest started to stutter with her breathing.

really, you didn’t have any choice but to take advantage of her clear excitement over the prospect.

the next time you were planned to head out with your girlfriends you wore a top you knew she wouldn’t be able to resist you in, low cut with plenty of your skin on display. it was almost comical the way her eyes became the size of dinner plates when you walked out of the bedroom, strutting over to the woman who sat on the couch and was gripping her thighs so aggressively you thought she might rip her pants.

it was no surprise that only a few minutes later she had you pressed into the cushions under her, lips kissing and biting marks from your neck down to your breasts and stomach. a firm hand gripped the meat of your thigh and bringing it up to wrap around her waist, the other pushed up into your skirt and rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

your head feels fuzzy as she grinds her fingers up into your clit the same time she bites a deep mark into the special spot on your neck, body and voice involuntarily reacting and pleading for more. you know she wants to give it to you, can tell by the way her whines reverberate each time she finds a new spot on your chest to mark and how her hips grind themselves into her arm to push herself against you even harder.

but still, she pulls away. you’re both breathing heavily, droopy eyed and ogling each other when she quickly stands up and yanks your arm to bring you to a standing position. her hands place themselves on your upper arms when your legs slightly falter and she bites her lip when you look up at her with a whine, not able to come up with the words to ask her why she’d leave you so close to the edge.

wordlessly she grabs your purse and places it in yours hands l, guiding you to the doorway before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. you pout before making your way to your car, plopping down in the drivers seat and gasping when you catch a glimpse of your neck and chest in the rear view mirror, shades of reds pinks and purples dusting your skin.

you aren’t given the chance to ask about it before your phone is dinging with an message from abby, the words lighting up the top of your screen.

“let everyone at the club see those, huh?”

#meow idk #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby #tlou #tlou 2 x reader #tlou 2 #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x fem!reader

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greengoblinswifey · 16 days ago

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More than Friends- Brother’s Bsf!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you’ve always had a secret crush on Nicholas, your brother’s best friend and your childhood friend. when he invites you to his show’s premiere, long-buried feelings finally surface, and you face what’s been growing between you all these years.

warnings— friends to lovers, loss of virginity, jealous!nicholas, oral, unprotected sex(don’t let a 🥷🏿 fuck you without one) , fingering, praise kink, fluff, aftercare.

a/n— requests are open <3

You had known Nicholas Chavez for as long as you could remember. He’d been your brother’s best friend since the early days, which naturally made him a big part of your life, too. He was only three years older, but there’d always been a distinct gap, he was your older brother's cool best friend, the one you looked up to, even if you’d never admit it out loud. There was something about him, though, that always lingered in the back of your mind, a pull you couldn't quite name but always felt.

Growing up, you and Nicholas shared a special bond, separate from his friendship with your brother. You’d go out together, always managing to find matching clothes or even wearing identical rings. “Twins,” he’d joke, holding up his hand to show the ring you had given him on his birthday. It was simple and unassuming, but every time you glanced at it, there was an unspoken tension that lay just beneath the surface, neither of you daring to bring it up.

But as the years went by, things changed. Nicholas landed a role on Monsters and Grotesquerie, the TV shows that catapulted him to fame, and it wasn’t long before his life was full of red carpets and late-night shoots. He was often away, and you’d find yourself scrolling through TikTok edits of him when he was too busy to FaceTime. Everyone on social media couldn’t stop talking about how attractive he was, how lucky any girl would be to date him. A knot would twist in your stomach every time you saw those comments, jealousy mixing with a feeling you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Whenever he did have a moment to breathe, he’d reach out, sometimes posting photos of the two of you together on his stories. His fans would flock to your profile, leaving jealous comments or speculating if you were more than just childhood friends. One time, you’d posted a shot of your hand with his, each of you wearing those same rings from years ago. Fans had gone wild, and your brother hadn’t missed it, either, throwing you a suspicious glance when he’d noticed.

One day, he called you out of the blue with a proposition: he wanted you to be his plus-one for the premiere of Monsters. You’d agreed, trying to keep your excitement in check, though a part of you hoped this might finally be the moment when something would shift between you.

The night of the premiere, you could hardly believe it was happening. The cameras flashed as Nicholas introduced you to his co-stars and other industry people, and people couldn’t stop asking if the two of you were together. Each time, though, he’d shake his head with a soft laugh, throwing an arm around your shoulders and saying, “Nah, she’s like my little sister. We grew up together. It’s nothing like that.”

The words cut deeper than you’d expected. It wasn’t until that moment, standing beside him under the bright lights, that you realized you were in love with him. Maybe you had been for a long time.

It hurt, watching him play it off as though your bond meant nothing more than childhood nostalgia, knowing he would never see you the way you wanted him to.

He turned to you at one point, noticing your silence. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet tonight.”

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just, taking it all in, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking like he didn’t quite believe you, but he let it go, just pulling you closer for a photo.

At the after-party, you decided to let loose a bit. Nicholas was busy mingling, so when Cooper Koch found you, you didn’t hold back. With a mischievous grin, you allowed yourself to dance, feeling free as you moved with Cooper, who, to your surprise, didn’t seem to mind the attention either. You leaned in, laughing as the music pulsed around you, and let your body fall into rhythm with his.

Suddenly, a firm hand grabbed your arm and pulled you back, breaking the spell. “What the hell was that?” Nicholas’s voice was low, his eyes narrowed as he stared at you. He looked annoyed, even... jealous?

“I was just having fun, Nick. It’s a party,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly, though your heart was racing.

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you, and after a tense silence, muttered, “Whatever.” Then he ignored you for the rest of the night.

In response, you doubled down, laughing a little too loudly with Cooper and reaching for his hand as you leaned against him. You could feel Nicholas’s eyes on you now and then, but he kept his distance.

When the party finally ended, you were a bit tipsy, and walking in heels felt like a challenge. Nicholas was by your side in an instant, his arm slipping under your shoulders. "Come on," he muttered, guiding you out. The car ride back was quiet, filled with tension you could almost taste.

Once you reached his place, he carried you to the guest room, careful but intense, his gaze meeting yours with each step. He laid you down gently on the bed, eyes dark as they flicked from your face to your lips. For a moment, he lingered, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and kissed him.

The kiss was electric, and he leaned into it, his hands moving instinctively, pulling you closer. But just as quickly, he pulled away, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. Not with you. I can’t do that to your brother.”

You looked at him, a mix of hurt and defiance swirling in your eyes. Before he could say more, you slipped out of your dress, revealing the delicate lace you wore underneath. His breath hitched, and his eyes traveled over you, unable to tear away. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair before lowering himself back down, his lips meeting yours again, more desperate this time.

“Forget everything I said,” he whispered against your skin.

Nicholas's fingers slipped down, finding your pussy wet and eager, his touch precise as he stroked and teased you. He rubbed your clit slowly, staring into your eyes, the moment was intimate and everything you ever dreamed of. His thumb rubbed your clit as he slipped his finger inside you and you felt like the world around you ceased to exist. The pleasure built until you couldn't hold back, your body arching as he pushed you over the edge. You lay there, breathing heavily, and as he leaned back, your words broke through the haze between you.

"Nicholas, I'm a virgin," you confessed softly, your cheeks flushing as his eyes widened.

Nicholas looked down at you, visibly stunned, his voice a little rough. "Wait, you're a virgin? But, what about your exes? I thought—"

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, two boyfriends, but my brother scared them off from anything serious. And, honestly, they just weren’t, the right one." You met his gaze, your hand reaching for his. "But you are, Nicholas. I want this. I want it to be you."

He hesitated, taking in your words, the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek, still searching for reassurance.

You nodded, your answer clear in the warmth of your expression.

He leaned down, pressing gentle kisses along your body, his touch reverent and careful. As he moved lower, he whispered, “I want to make this good for you.” His mouth pressed against your sensitive clit, eyes never leaving yours as he tasted you slowly, purposefully, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from you until you finally came, breathless.

You reached out to his clothed cock to help him, but he shook his head, a smile curving his lips. “Tonight’s about you pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “This is your first time, and I want to make sure it’s perfect. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that carried a weight of its own. The two of you sat close, the low lighting casting soft shadows across his face. Nicholas had been your friend for years, practically family, and yet, right now, that familiar face held a depth you hadn’t seen before.

He brushed his thumb along your cheek, a touch he'd offered countless times in comfort or friendship, but this time, he lingered, his thumb tracing the delicate line of your cheekbone. Your breath caught, the air thickening between you. The words tumbled from his lips, barely above a whisper, as if he feared breaking the fragile tension. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, heart pounding, and took his hand, intertwining your fingers as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I’ve waited so long, Nick.” He swallowed, his gaze steady, the quiet weight of everything unspoken passing between you.

With a hint of humor to ease your nerves, you took in the sight of him, and your eyes widened. “That’s gonna go inside me?” you said, slightly stunned. He chuckled softly, with a smirk that was all confidence and warmth. “It’ll fit. I’ll make it fit.”

He placed your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Just say the word if it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

Every step was deliberate, every touch gentle as he moved slowly, his focus entirely on you. He watched your face, the slightest changes in your expression, waiting for any sign of discomfort. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as your grip tightened around his fingers. Each small movement was slow, careful, his whispered reassurances grounding you.

You gasped, and he immediately stilled, eyes scanning your face. “Everything okay?” His tone was soft, a mixture of concern and patience. A shaky breath left your lips, and you nodded, steadying yourself as his gentle encouragement filled the space between you.

“I’ve always loved you, you know that, right?” you whispered, almost afraid to say the words out loud. He hovered just inches from your face, his lips brushing against yours as he replied with a smile that held years of unspoken emotions. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice soft and warm. “I think I always have too, I was just too scared to admit it.”

Nicholas stayed close, his hand finding yours as he moved slowly, stretching you and practically reaching your cervix before whispering, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes Nicholas, please, don't stop.”

He chuckled softly, eyes full of adoration as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “You're taking me so well,” he murmured, his voice warm and encouraging. “I knew you would.” His words and steady movements built you up again until you came all over his thick cock, your body clenching around him as he held you close, grounding you with gentle praise.

“That's it, beautiful, let go for me,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder and neck. When your breathing slowed, he gently flipped you onto your stomach, his touch delicate as he continued, tracing kisses along your shoulders and down your back. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you felt the tension building again, his whispered words filling you with warmth and reassurance.

With one final thrust, he groaned, spilling onto your back, then smiled, tracing his fingers along your spine. “You’ve always had the most perfect ass,” he teased, making you laugh as you both caught your breath.

Afterward, he was attentive and gentle, cleaning you up carefully, checking in with soft words and brushing stray hair out of your face. “Are you okay baby? Did I hurt you at all?”

You shook your head, a peaceful smile spreading across your face. “No. You were perfect, Nick.”

He climbed into bed beside you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close, pressing gentle kisses along your face, your nose, your eyelids, and murmuring, “You’ve always been mine. I just, didn’t know how to tell you.” His fingers traced patterns along your back as he held you, letting the night settle around you both.

In his embrace, with his whispered reassurances, you felt safe, warm, and exactly where you’d always belonged. He was finally yours.

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garoujo · 1 year ago

Text

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU — your stepdad gojo always seemed to show off how good your father / daughter relationship really was whenever his bestfriend would visit.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! stepcest, stepdad!gojo, vouyerism, f!receiving oral, teasing, you refer to him as daddy, pet names. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hi guys! it’s me! i got struck w motivation suddenly & i missed u all ! <3 i’m back on my filthy little agenda & finally elaborating on this post now that i’m back :3

you always loved when your step dads bestfriend visited, you could always tell it was him with how softly he seemed to close the door — your home suddenly being filled with light hearted jokes from the two men downstairs that always pulled you out of your bedroom.

geto had always been kind to you, he’d basically been as big a part of your life as gojo had been— although you always thought it was funny the way they would both playfully fight for your attention. more so your dad’s bestfriend just letting him win so he didn’t have to listen to him whining about how he’s stealing you from him.

so today is just the same when you hear you the familiar “you’ve got a visitor, sweet girl.” call from downstairs as it’s followed by a smooth chuckle from the man in question. you know who it is— you’ve just gotten out from your shower, skin still slightly damp underneath the oversized fabric of your daddy’s shirt and you don’t really have the time to change into something warmer, opting just to deal with the panties underneath — the shirts long enough to hide them anyway.

it’s fast the way you make your way through the house, almost toppling into the living room as your greeted with the two men on either sofa. you suddenly feel nervous with the way their eyes cut into you, feeling hot underneath their gaze as you grab and pull at the hem of your shirt.

“slow down, sweet thing. excited to see me?” is how it begins, the usual teasing as gojo gives his bestfriend a narrowed look followed by a sly smirk sent your way. but it seems to cut through the tension in the room, helping you relax as his arms outstretch and you suddenly feel embarrassed underneath your clothes when he gives you an expectant look, tapping at his lap when you pause and rock yourself on your feet.

but you’re much too distracted by the way geto’s looking at you, head propped up against his fist as he lets himself rest against the arm of the couch. his hair is pulled back handsomely, letting you admire his pretty cut features and the usual kind-hearted smile he always reserved for you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“hah! come onnn~ you shy? ‘ts just suguru, you don’t wanna embarrass me infront of my friend, right?” gojo groans, a little louder this time as his crystalline gaze narrows playfully at you with a pout. your step dad has always been a little touchy, especially around his bestfriend — always insisting you spend your time together tucked into his lap or under his arm, like he’s staking a silent claim.

“you better go before he starts whining, we won’t hear the end of it.” geto’s words are soothing but he makes sure they’re loud enough for his friend to hear as the snowy haired male tuts. but just before he fires back another quick response, he smirks as you pad your way towards him — giving into the way his arms wrap instinctively around your hips as he pulls you into his lap, letting your thighs rest over his own as you press into his side under his arm.

“see, bet you’re comfy now, right? gotta show suguru that i’m still your favourite.” the first half of gojo’s sentence is a low drawl as you readjust yourself, words breathed along the shell of your ear before he makes the latter a little louder. like he’s celebrating a victory as his bestfriend pretends not to hear him.

but you press yourself into him just like always, it was too easy to get lost in the feel of him against you — tucking yourself against him as he lets one of his arms curl around you to rest at the base of your spine.

you let yourself chime into their conversation for a while before you just allow yourself to listen— opting for a giggle or a laugh at their playful banter, feeling gojo squeeze at your hips everytime he says something that he finds particularly funny so he can make sure you’re listening, laughing. you readjust yourself against him again and he’s always there to pull you closer, pressing a quick peck against your temple and you like how homey it feels when the three of you are like this.

the time seems to move quickly, the conversation has settled down slightly despite the way the two bestfriends still seemed to tease eachother and you feel content from where you’re curled against your stepdad, face resting in the crook of his neck as his fingers smooth along your spine.

“is she asleep?” you hear geto ask lowly, kindly and it makes your eyelashes flutter— tickling along gojo’s skin as he hums. he knows you’re not, but he still lets the question hang for a few more moments as his fingers trace shapes into your skin. he readjusts himself, silently before the next twist of his wrist brings his hand around your hips, placing featherlight touches along the planes of your skin until you shudder into him.

“daddy—“ it’s embarrassing, the soft whine your voice takes— you’re so responsive. your daddy’s heard you like this before, he took great pleasure in being able to pull those sounds from you but this was a first for his bestfriend.

“oh? ‘s my sweet girl tired? suguru was worried.” you keen at the low drawl gojo’s voice takes— you’d heard it like that before, it was like instinct the way you reacted to it especially when it’s accompanied by the teasing squeeze of his palms — kneading at your skin until you’re fidgeting.

“i’m fine.” you murmur as you try so hard to bury yourself into your stepdad’s neck, you’re so embarrassed— too hot underneath your clothes and all he’s done is barely touch you, show off the reaction he can pull from you with just a few swipes of his fingers.

“oh yeah? just fine?” gojo drawls again, a lull to his voice that lets you know he’s teasing you and you can’t help the way your arms reach to wrap around his shoulders, fingers twisting in the snowy peaks of his hair as you grumble in response, but you know he won’t let you away with just that.

you can feel the heat of geto’s gaze from across the room and the way it follows the warm press of the fingers along your skin, the shape of your waist, the swell of your ass and you keen at the attention before they pinches playfully at the skin, making you jolt as you press your chest into his with a short whine.

“n-no.. i’m good.”

“can’t hear you, princess. lil louder f’ me, make sure he can hear you.” gojo almost chuckles with your sensitive little reaction, the heat from your arousal feels like it burns you and now you really wish you’d thrown on something to hide the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. you’re so desperate, needy to feel something before your mind blurs at the feeling of your daddy’s long fingers finally pushing between your thighs to squeeze.

“you’re making her nervous, satoru.” grounds you as geto pushes himself to stand, his eyes seem darker now but the kindness in his expression remains the same as he takes his first careful step into your space. you’re already pliant, like putty when the snowy haired male beside you moves you so easily, pulling at your thigh until you’re pressed perfectly, pretty in his lap while you face his friend — back pressed against his broad chest as he breathes deep along your shoulder.

“that right? you think you can calm her down, sugu?” there’s something carnal in gojo’s words, like a challenge— he knows that nobody could ever beat him when it comes to you, the pleasure he can pull from you is limitless. but he can feel the way you seem to stiffen, your breathing coming in short pants as his bestfriend comes closer until he’s looking down at you both, but his eyes are on you before he crouches down to your level to meet you.

“oh i wouldn’t say that.” his voice seems different now, lower— deeper when you find yourself suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze but your step dad forces you to, fingers circling from behind to hold your jaw gently in place as his other hand pulls at your inner thigh.

you feel so exposed as gojo spreads you so easily with one hand, like he’s serving his pretty little step daughter up to his bestfriend like a meal, although you admit geto’s looking at you like he could devour you completely. your thighs almost tremble with want with the first press of your daddy’s best friends palm against the opposite thigh, helping to hold you open as he admires the already damp spot on your panties.

“but she seems to like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” geto’s words are still smooth despite the way his fingers squeeze in your skin as he leans forward, letting himself press a quick kiss against your clothed pussy before he exhales against you— like he’s taking his first breath of fresh air in years.

the sounds that leave you are humiliating as he pushes deeper into you, letting his tongue tease along the damp fabric— pressing into the swollen bump of your clit all while your step dad holds you in place. your thighs and hips quake, as do your lungs with every staggered inhale you take— you can barely breathe with the way he drinks you up, tongue rolling and curling through your folds so expertly you wouldn’t believe there was still a layer between you both.

you jolt, tremble and gojo knows you’re already close as he curls over you — letting you feel the heavy press of his cock against your lower back as he suckles wet kisses along your throat from behind. “make sure you’re good for sugu, alright, sweet thing.” his words are hissed through his teeth as he rocks into you slightly, pushing his bestfriend’s mouth even deeper between your thighs before his fingers finally hook underneath the fabric of your panties to pull them aside.

“but gotta remember you’re daddy’s girl.” it’s growled, timed well with the way geto’s tongue finally presses against the now exposed skin of your folds, cutting through the glistening petals as he suckles and smacks at the mess. you can’t help but arch back into your stepdad, urging him to let his free hand palm at your tits, twisting and flicking at the raised skin of your nipples through his shirt until you’re whining so greedily for more.

“mmm, see.. so sensitive f’ only me.” his words urge you to turn to meet him and you can taste the possessiveness in gojo’s words when he’s suddenly pushing them between your lips as he kisses you, messy and driven even more by the way geto’s mouth is wrapped around you all while he watches. his long fingers clasp gently around one of your nipples before he pulls and you feel lightheaded with how close you are, feeling the flames of your orgasm lick at your spine as you feel his clothed cock press languidly into you from behind as he licks into your mouth.

“daddy.. please.” you beg against him and the man pulls away to chuckle smugly, suddenly as your chest expands with every shakey breath you struggle to take. you’re so close, you feel too hot for your skin but just as geto closes his lips around your clit to suckle — he pulls away, cheeks wet with slick as he breathes out your step dads name.

“i only needed another second, satoru.”

“nope, times up.” gojo mutters playfully and if you couldn’t feel just how affected he was by this you’d assume he wasn’t at all with how giddy he sounds, but then his attention turns back to you.

“you gonna show him how sweet you are for daddy now? i knew my sweet girl wouldn’t let him tease me like this.”

#cw stepcest #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut

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