#this was very hard for me to put into words for the world to see and maybe its not even needed but

[yurmomsawh0r]

hey!!! Could you please write some jealousy with the jjk men!!! Thanks and have a good day!

I got you 😉 I love little jealousy fics. They be so good sorts hope we can add this to the list of “good”

💢 “You’re Mine.” — JJK Men When They Get Jealous | SFW + NSFW

You catch someone else’s attention—and suddenly the man who claimed you makes it very, very clear you’re not up for grabs.

⸻

💙 Gojo Satoru

He was already smiling when he walked in. That cocky, lazy smirk that made people either swoon or shrink. But the moment he sees you laughing—too comfortably—with someone else across the room?

That smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

“Oh?” he hums, strolling over like he’s got all the time in the world. He throws his arm around your shoulders, tugging you against him so hard your balance stutters. “Making new friends, pretty girl?”

His hand slides casually down your waist—possessive, playful. He kisses your temple, eyes never leaving the person you were just talking to.

Later, his tone is velvet against your throat as he pushes you up against the door of your bedroom. “Bet they didn’t touch you like this. Bet they didn’t know how loud you get.” His hips press in. “I do.”

That’s how Gojo gets jealous. Laughing. Grinning. Teasing.

But underneath it? He’s deadly serious.

⸻

💼 Nanami Kento

He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t interrupt. But when he sees your coworker standing just a little too close—smiling too hard, fingers brushing your arm in conversation—he quietly sets down his coffee.

He waits. Watches. And when your eyes flick to him from across the room?

You see the fire behind the calm. The slow, precise tension in his jaw. The twitch in his brow.

When he finally approaches, it’s quiet. Firm. “We’re leaving,” he says simply, fingers brushing your lower back.

At home, his hands are slow. Heavy. “You’re mine,” he whispers against your shoulder as his lips drag lower. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

Later, when your voice breaks under his touch, he doesn’t stop until you forget the name of whoever made him jealous in the first place.

⸻

🔪 Toji Fushiguro

Toji doesn’t say a damn word when he sees you being flirted with.

He just watches.

You feel it—burning into your spine, that predator’s stare from across the room. Cold. Calculating. Daring you to keep entertaining it.

The second you’re alone, he’s on you. One hand pinning your wrist, the other sliding under your shirt like he owns the fabric. “You wanted attention, huh? That why you were laughing like that?”

He doesn’t kiss you. He bites. Sucks. Leaves marks so deep your skin will sing for days.

“Next time you want someone to touch you,” he growls against your thigh, “you ask me.”

You’ll never need to be reminded again.

⸻

🖤 Fushiguro Megumi

He doesn’t make a scene.

But god, you feel the chill in the air when he’s pissed.

He stands behind you, silent, arms crossed. His eyes—normally calm and soft when they look at you—are narrowed into something that would make a curse flinch.

Later, in private, he speaks low. Carefully.

“Was I… not giving you enough attention?” His voice falters, just slightly. “Because if that’s it, I’ll fix it.”

You realize then—it’s not anger. It’s fear. Fear of losing you. Of not being enough.

So you kiss his frown away. And that night, he holds you closer than he ever has, fingers tangled in yours like he’s never letting go.

⸻

🍓 Yuji Itadori

Yuji doesn’t even notice at first.

Until someone else puts a hand on your shoulder. Until you start laughing at a joke that he didn’t tell.

Then he’s at your side in an instant. Grinning, but nervous. “Hey, babe—miss me?”

He slings an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek a little too loud. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

That night, he wraps his arms around you like a human furnace, head tucked against your shoulder.

“…You wouldn’t leave me, right?” he says suddenly, voice soft. “I know I’m not the smoothest guy, but I—I really like being yours.”

And just like that, you realize: he wasn’t jealous.

He was scared to lose you.

⸻

👑 Sukuna

He watches it happen. Doesn’t interfere.

But the second you’re alone?

You’re slammed into the nearest surface, his tongue dragging possessively across your throat. “You think it’s cute,” he growls, “letting worthless insects breathe your air?”

His claws are cold against your ribs. His grin is cruel.

“You’re lucky I don’t carve my name into your skin for them to see.”

He takes you apart—lips, teeth, rough thrusts.

You don’t even remember who made him jealous by the time he’s done.

You only remember this:

His voice in your ear, dark and feral—

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

⸻

🩸 Choso Kamo

He stands awkwardly nearby when someone flirts with you—shoulders tense, eyes wide, expression blank.

You think maybe he doesn’t care… until you catch him later in the kitchen, staring into his drink like it just insulted him.

“Do you… like them more than me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart shatters.

You pull him close. Tell him he’s your only one. Over and over until his body relaxes, arms locking tightly around you like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

He doesn’t speak again for a while. Just buries his face in your neck and holds you through the silence.

You fall asleep that way—wrapped in warmth, soft breath against your skin, and a whisper:

“Please don’t leave me.”

⸻

☁️ Suguru Geto

“Mm… bold of them,” he murmurs, watching the conversation unfold across the courtyard. You’re laughing. Someone’s leaning in. Too close.

He walks over slowly, confidence in every step.

Wraps an arm around your waist.

“Darling,” he says silkily, “Who’s your new admirer?”

You can hear the danger behind his voice—but his smile never fades.

Later, he guides you to bed, kissing you slowly, worshipfully. “Let me remind you,” he whispers, brushing your thighs open with a practiced hand. “No one adores you like I do.”

His jealousy isn’t fire.

It’s silk and smoke and poison—and it burns just the same.

[tadasfics]

DATE EVERYTHING NSFW HEADCANONS

I really don't know what I'm doing, anyways request fanfic and I'll get around to it! (One day..)

I will do

Oneshots ,Long ass fanfics ,Smut ,Headcanons

Sorry this took me so long, I have been on my date everything grid lately, if yall want 3-6way headcanons for couples like Washford and Drysdale or The hanks hmu

Nsfw under the cut

Dorian

Definitely has the most Self control out of everyone. He can go months if not years without sex.

He is also the most pent up though, when he goes at it he goes hard. I Mean mouthfucking, blowing your back out.

This man does not have the time to mess around; he gets straight to the point. After he is realized he has a lot more time on his hands and that's when he takes the time to appreciate your body not leaving a square inch of you untouched.

He will not beat around the bush about what he wants and he will expect you to give it to him.

He likes quickies on doors because it's a sort of pride to him.

He chokes you idgaf what you have to say. You can't tell me in the middle of sex he won't wrap his hands around your neck and say “does that feel good love?”

Hector

Even after he came out of the vents he still writes fanfiction about you. His fantasy's are either so sweet you get cavities or the most kinky literature you have ever read in your life.

This man wants to breed you like not just put one kid in you he wants you to hold every bit of him cum inside you. It gives him a sense of pride that you're really his.

He will full on wake you up by eating you out/sucking you off. Also he is the BIGGEST sucker for marks. He needs to show you off. He wants everyone else in the whole world to know he pulled you and it drives him crazy if he sees someone mention it in public.

He just wants to cover you with more He cannot handle giving oral he gets absolutely drunk off of you. He will cum his pants just while youre mouthfucking him or ridibg his face. Or even if he is just giving you regular oral you can see him twitch all the time while his tongue does its magic. but he'd let you use his face until his nose goes straight.

Parker

He is very skilled with his hands, not so much his mouth.

He tries to get you to play games with him after sex. He has about 5 boxes under your bed to pull out when you two are done.

He is always touching somewhere on your body. My man knows where the clit is. And if you're a dude then he jerks you off while he is on top.

He will be panting and nearly shaking by the time he is done with you. He sees it as a competition for who can cum more times.

Most of the time he eats the cum out of your ass/pussy

He has a sex rulebook somewhere in your room that he has read at least 6 times on his own.

Hanks

They compare sizes. I feel like we all knew that.

Double stuffing you is a must, maybe even triple if they can get themselves into the right position. But let's be real. They're flexible asf.

Hank #3 is a virgin and was all bark. So when it finally came time with you two one on one. He was stuttering and playing off his nervousness as cockyness.

Hank #5 will ask before cumming Inside you. He will accidentally edge you just to make sure its okay

You and Hank #2 have the more vanilla sex but that's what makes it special. He makes sure to take his time with you and whispers in your ear how great you do for him. He needs a constant in his life that can be reliable and cause him to not get hurt and he believes you're that for him.

Chance

absolute KING of Aftercare he will prep your favorite snacks and chill some water in advance to make sure you two are all set for afterwards. He will massage you without being asked after. Leaving kisses on all the tense spots.

He loves to come home from a GNG sesh you couldn't make it to wearing one of his cloaks. In his words it's like opening a present on Christmas Morning. He absolutely LOVES cosplay sex, but he always asks in advance if it's okay.

He sometimes puts his glasses on you while pounding into you just to have something of his on and in you.

Another man who cannot handle oral. But for this matter I feel like he couldn't handle you sitting on his lap either. A few moves and he is seeing stars.

He LOVES hair pulling. You try putting your hand in his hair while he is on his knees for you and you're getting a few moans into your sex. If it is okay with you he will pull your hair too. You were his first time.

He was another all bark no bite character who acted as if they had done more than they had before.

Volt

BONDAGE. He wants you to tie him up and ride him like your life depends on it.

He loves watching his partner lose themself in pleasure.

He enjoys to leave marks, he wants the others to just be ASKING about those for As long as you have them

Shock Kink, idk what else you want me to say. This man would blush if You accidentally gave him a friction shock and say you're tempting him.

He loves eye contact, if he feels like teasing you he will stop if you're not looking at him.

Eddie

He likes to fuck you while you're wearing his clothing and it's what he'll use to pull you back onto his cock.

He enjoys mutual masturbation, just the way he knows how you please yourself so he can make sure he is pleasuring you when it's his turn to be your hand Please don't repost or translate!

Original work by tadasfics on Tumblr

[trannyradfem]

You are seemingly OP, although your blog name is different now, and I am aware of that, rendering most of your reblog above the cut... entirely irrelevant. Based on your writing style you sound young, and you've confirmed you definitely are younger than me but still an adult, so I actually was 100% on point about that.

I also marked the post as having adult content, and tagged it excessively with content warnings. If the minor could see it at that point, it's because they lied about their age and bypassed all means of age protection. I am not responsible for that.

Does being accused of being a groomer all the time make you do the same to others, or something? Seriously, where the fuck did that vile shit come from?

I also don't check the profiles of every single person who responds to me, I do not have time for that with the amount of interactions I constantly receive. Maybe you should encourage the minor to not interact with TERFs if we're so dangerous, stay away from political tags, and to protect themselves by not lying about their age. But that would require you actually doing something that benefits others.

You're acting like I was screaming and swearing at this kid in the single reblog to them, which did not include any of what you're saying. You all seriously need to go touch some grass. I mean that in the most loving way possible. This is not the end of the world.

No, I will respond. You think that's a boundary, but that's not how boundaries work. You are choosing to participate in a massive online platform and directly tagging me to speak to me directly. You don't get to do that and go, "But you're a predator if you respond!". Demanding others do not respond to your replies is a childish form of manipulation so you can have the last word and I am effectively silenced.

Exactly why do you think you don't deserve to be treated the same exact way you treat others?

Furthermore, the readmore prevents me from seeing the rest as I type. But, man, if you cannot understand the collective damage trans rights activists have done, that's your own privelege and ignorance. You are also far more upset about my trauma than I am, that's a laugh. You can't even see that I was using it all as examples. How self centered. Do you always make other peoples' traumas about you?

If you gloss over the word "inherently" when I talk about the pain involved in living as transgender, as if I'm trying to put you down instead of acknowledge the shared realities we go through as marginalized people on a day to day basis, that's your own ignorance. Your inability to read this in anything but the worst bad faith interpretation possible is not my problem.

All I'm getting from you is that my identity is not real or valid, because I do not think like you. The antithesis of the mainstream TRA movement, invalidating another trans persons identity. And if what the TRA movement believes is not what you believe? Congrats, you're a TERF, too. You are no different from me. That is what I mean when I talk about how reactionary TRAs are, and you're feeding right into that.

That's been my entire point all along. You either agree with the mainstream TRA values and belong, or you're a TERF, per the trans community itself. I did not say you're pro rape, but the community at large very much so is, and if you can't see that then it's because it's not been directed at you yet. If it's not extremely disturbing to you that the trans community does that to perceived TERFs, regardless of if they actually are one or not, and even when they're trans, you probably are pro rape deep down.

There apparently is no other way, as you have been upholding that very strict binary of "us vs them" so hard from the beginning that there's no need to pretend that you believe otherwise, unless you actually say what you believe. Which you still haven't done, at all, aside from that one sentence where you say you believe in bodily autonomy, people being entitled to housing, food, etc. Which is honestly very, very basic, and no different from what I believe, nor what I expected you to say.

You've actually exclusively spent most of your time here writing paragraphs analyzing and insulting me. For hating TERFs you sure spend a lot of time focused on one instead of the topic at hand, which has always been how the conduct of the community is deeply bigoted in ways nobody is brave enough to admit. You also refuse to answer any questions I did ask about what you believe, so again, that's on you.

You say I assumed your beliefs, but refuse to correct anything I said, and parrot the same exact things I fully expected you to say. Yeah, I'm so presumptuous. How are you 27 and not mature enough for this conversation, my god... Aren't you the one who's been waving "trans exclusionary" around this entire time despite not knowing my beliefs? For the record, I believe the same wrt clothing, food, housing, bodily autonomy, etc., but you're the only one who suggested one of us doesn't believe in that.

You are ridiculously easy to figure out because your arguments are entirely empty and mimic the mainstream, which is precisely what I have a problem with. You're not engaging with the content on a real level or thinking about it critically, and haven't been since the beginning of this interaction because you still hold the mindset that "collaborating" (read as treating us like human beings) with "TERFs" is always bad. You say what feels good even if it totally contradicts your actions. So, what exactly are you doing here? There are no accolades or praise I can give for that, and if you want to be entirely free of criticism, you should just simply get off the internet.

In case you haven't figured it out by now, you are not entitled anybody's respect, and you lost mine as soon as you stereotyped my arguments in the same exact way I responded in kind to yours in my next reply. Doesn't feel very nice, does it? Do you understand why I did that, now? Again, why exactly should you be given a special exception and not be treated the same way you treat others?

You say I'm angry, that I'm yelling. This is text. There is no yelling, and I didn't use any indicators to remotely suggest that beyond using indicators for brief emphasis. Yeah, that's projecting. You are clearly upset and wishing that upon me. Sorry, that's not the reality. I'm enjoying waking up with my cat on my lap and my best friend at my side while going through one of many of my notifications. How many times do I need to say this isn't the end of the world, this isn't war, this isn't extreme, etc. for you to understand that it really isn't that dire?

You deleted the reblogs "out of respect for your followers" when you simply could've put all of it under a readmore, and then wildly mischaracterized my responses trying to make me look like a groomer in a public space. Yeah, that IS trying to exert power over me in a deeply malicious way. You don't need to know someone personally to use gaslighting as a technique of abuse. You are not some innocent sheep fighting the big bad wolf, your actions have power and consequences.

Acknowledging differences is not inherently hateful, and the TRA movement at large does it constantly... when it benefits them. If your response to me acknowledging these pressures and injustices boils down to, "you just hate yourself!", why exactly should I even take your opinions seriously or regard them as anything more than yet another attempt to prioritize transfems over transmascs? That's what it's called when you're complacent with the inequality that exists in the trans community, it doesn't matter how you personally treat people if you can't acknowledge the reality in front of you. And you very obviously can't, not even after excessive amounts of examples.

uvb76fan is posting in this tag talking about all the ways trans men have it “worse”, while misrepresenting the statistic she is citing. most likely banking on no one looking closer or reading the links.

this person is a terf. if you search trans on her blog it is immediately clear, i am not using terf loosely she is literally actually a terf.

we cannot let our weariness at not being heard by some of our community push us into the sick and malformed arms of transmisogyny and radical feminism, these people do not care about us at all, they are trying to harm every single one of us. our solidarity with trans women, men and people as whole should cause us to slam hard on the breaks. no matter how many trans women you see being antitransmasculine it does not mean that there are not so many more who are our genuine allies, do not let the algorithm pushing hateful person after hateful person your way skew your understandings. the transphobes want dissent, they want us to tear each other apart. we do not need to contribute to the harm to have ours lessened. (causing harm to a vulnerable minority is never morally correct no matter what got you there in the first place. also straight up trans women are easy to love and are inherently deeply deserving of community solidarity, and fascism (which terfs are) should not have any appeal whatsoever no matter how hurt you are but i digress.)

on another note: we cannot and must not reactively take on the mentalities of trans rad fems, no gender in the trans community needs to be the most oppressed to be taken seriously and given respect in our community, the equality in our suffering is immense and must be acknowledged without each group needing to prove we are the most victimized to get the care and community support we need. this is harmful no matter who is doing it. we absolutely must nip this kind of thinking in the bud.

push back on terfs in this tag everywhere you can, and if there is a reason you cannot comment or reblog to shut them down, block them on sight.

[millersdarling]

mark meachum x reader / word count. 727

warnings / tags. mark is a dick. but he also is your dick. mentions of smut. a little angst. also a little comfort.

author’s note. countdown really brings back the supernatural fan i didn’t even remember i was. finished the third episode today and felt like writing something about him.

Sometimes, Mark can be really mean.

Yeah, you adore him. You love the time you spend together ever since you moved into his neighborhood—all the nights you greet him with a smile far too happy for his grumpy scowl after a long day at work.

And most of all, you love how he kisses you like you're the only thing that matters in the world. How he fucks you slowly on the days he's too tired, like he hates you on the days something's pissed him off, or like he loves you when it’s been a good day. You love the feel of his lips on your skin, his hands leaving marks on your waist or pulling your hair to keep you impossibly close.

What you have together isn't anything serious—you know that. Mark made that very clear while ripping your panties the first time you hooked up.

After a while, you found out why. You found out he was dying, that the headaches he kept getting weren’t just regular headaches.

It killed a part of you too, but you didn’t say anything. You knew he’d pull away if you did, and you’d rather keep things the way they were.

But, like I said, he can be mean sometimes.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he grumbles, walking past you to open the fridge and grab a beer. “I didn’t say I wanted company today.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you murmur, your chest tightening. “You also didn’t say you didn’t want company, so…”

“I’m tired,” Mark cuts in, shaking his head. “I want to sleep. To relax. I don’t need you today. Go home. Was that clear enough for you, missy?”

You bite your lower lip hard. The pain that hits you is almost as strong as the one caused by his words. Almost.

“You’re such an asshole,” you say, grabbing the bag you left on the couch and walking away before he can see the tears welling in your eyes.

“That’s what everyone says,” he hisses, unmoved.

Then, with his door already open, you turn back to look at him one last time. A few rebellious tears slide down your face.

“Yeah, but I bet none of them knows what it’s like to be treated like your personal whore. That’s a thousand times worse.” You see his expression shift. His mouth opens to reply, but you don’t want to hear it. “Go fuck yourself, Meachum. I hate you.”

You slam the door shut. It’s dark in the neighborhood, and the walk back to your house takes about three minutes.

But before you cross the street, you hear hurried footsteps behind you.

“Baby, wait, please.” Mark catches up quickly, grabbing your arm—not hard at all, just enough to make you look at him, gentle like his touch alone could break you.

You can’t look at him. This is more humiliation than you can bear right now.

But your tears fall freely now, and you don’t try to stop them.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please.” he says, stepping in front of you. His fingers wipe away some of the tears, so gently. A gentleness you’ve never seen in Mark before. “I... I’m sorry. I was a dick. Had a shitty day, my head’s pounding. I took it out on you.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to put up with me today.”

“No. I never have to put up with you. I love having you around,” he says—and the way the words come out makes it clear he didn’t think before saying them. They sound so... genuine. “Please, babe. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

Mark looks at you, waiting.

He doesn’t apologize again.

You wipe your face, taking a deep breath as you consider whether to leave or stay with him.

You look at him, and he looks so, so remorseful.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips.

“If you ever talk to me like that again, I’ll rip your dick off,” you warn.

A smile crosses his face.

Relieved.

“And I’ll love every second of it, babe.”

“Come on, I’ll cook you a dinner that didn’t come out of the freezer,” you say, trying not to smile at the even bigger grin spreading across his face.

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Prompts Day! If it inspires you, I would like to request something from the Manipulation is Rehab verse. SFW and NSFW are both fine with me.

hi hi! yes tis the prompting!! had some computer problems (screen kept flickering but a few updates and a couple restarts later and it's not longer at risk of giving me a migraine!)

i cackled because i love this verse (i say that about all of them true) but like, i feel like this verse really gives insight into how much easier things would have been for malec if they'd both just had some time to relax. last part here

Also i need everyone to know that Nightshade lies on his back and holds his bone up to chew on it and yes, he has dropped his bone on his own face before. its hilarious and sad and he gets so embarrassed he's like 'no one saw that right? no one saw- baba why are you laughing? you didn't see that... right?'

<3 lumine

manipulation is rehab

Alec feels as if he finally understands what bliss is.

They might not have had sex yet, but Alec finds himself hard pressed to believe that anything could be better than this. He’d fallen asleep to Magnus’ magical hands massaging him and had woken up the same way, with Magnus murmuring soft words to guide him out of the realms of sleep.

Who needs an orgasm when there is pleasure and relief in every touch and Magnus’ skin is warm, pulling the infected heat of Alec’s muscles away and then staying, firm and gentle and warm on Alec’s abused muscles.

This is truly the last time Alec lets anyone ambush him with a mundane on a mission.  He’s already written up a report and he just needs to send it.

Eventually.

If Izzy doesn’t get to him first.

Except, Alec wouldn’t mind more massages like this.

It almost makes the mundane and Fray being involved worth it.

As if he can understand Alec’s thoughts — and Alec wouldn’t put it past Magnus’ abilities — Magnus tsks his tongue and Alec tenses involuntarily because what, is making Magnus upset?

Alec will destroy it.

“You’re undoing all my hard work.” Magnus doesn’t sound upset, but he does sound aggrieved and Alec tries to forcibly relax and instead makes it worse.

“What’s tangling your thoughts up, Alexander?”

“Trying to figure out if I should report the mundane and Fray to Idris and let them deal with it.” Alec is trying very hard not to overly involve Magnus in his own problems — they seem small when compared to the weight and burden Magnus bears for his people and his territory. Except Magnus asked and Alec tries not to lie or avoid answering him.  It’s just hard to justify bringing up something he should be able to deal with.

“You haven’t already?”

It’s such a mild question but it definitely finishes the job of absolutely ruining all of Magnus’ hard work and progress because Alec feels his body tense as if in danger.  He hadn’t expected Magnus to agree with him, he realizes.  He’d thought Magnus would be like the others, more understanding of poor little Fray’s hard entry to the Shadowworld and that her mundane friend isn’t in danger or causing a disturbance.

Alec hesitates and it’s clear he hesitates too long because then strong hands — and magic? Alec needs to know if Magnus used magic or just his own strength because both are nice but uh, he has questions now.

About just how strong Magnus is.

Except Magnus’ golden eyes aren’t letting him getting distracted because they’re displeased.

And Magnus’ eyes are gorgeous even in anger but Alec much prefers the soft glow when delighted and how Magnus’ pupils turn into a eclipse when he’s pleased.

“Alexander, he’s a mundane.  He endangers himself, you and our world every time he interacts with any of you.” Magnus face softens but his voice stays firm, “regardless of whatever is staying your hand. You need to report it. Him and Fray. Things will only worsen until you do.”

—

Alexander looks wrecked and not in the way Magnus had planned and it’s grating on him, how even here — in the safety and seclusion of Magnus’ own lair, that Alexander cannot be free of burdens.

Such as his siblings, the mundane and little Clarissa-Problem-Bringer-Fray.

Who Magnus would have dealt with differently if he’d realized how great of a problem she’d not only bring, but create on her own.

“Can you pass me my phone?” Alexander asks him, expression tight and Magnus summons it to his palm, handing it over without protest and Alexander types in several things before he hands it back over with a sigh.

There’s a sheepish look on his face and he avoids Magnus’ direct gaze — though by the way he can’t keep from glancing over shows he doesn’t actually want to avoid Magnus.

“I’ve had the papers ready to send for a while.  I just… hadn’t.”

Magnus can imagine why.

If Alexander had thought Magnus wouldn’t back him, then it just goes to show how deep the cracks in Alexander’s confidence and power are.

“You handled it.  Better late than not at all darling. You did well and,” Magnus strokes warm fingers over the crease of Alexander’s brow. “You’re still off-duty for a few more hours.”

Magnus leans closer and presses a kiss to Alexander’s cheek and then his jaw and a softer kiss, to the plush corner of his boy’s mouth.

“Uh-huh. I am.” Alexander’s voice is breathless as he nuzzles closer, trying to inhale Magnus and soak up the affection and warmth and praise he’s offering.

In a world where no one is satisfied with his actions, where no one will ever be fully happy with what he picks, Alexander is at a crossroad.  He needs stability and Magnus is more than happy to offer that to him.

“Shall we go somewhere else, brunch in another country or lunch down the street?” Magnus offers and Alexander seems hesitant he offers, “it’s only a portal away, Alexander. We can be back in an instant and furthermore, it will take your mind off things. You need a distraction while the paperwork and reprimands are sent through.”

“How did you know there were reprimands in the reports?”

Magnus laughs but he keeps it mild and gentle, because he can’t imagine how Alec would handle the reports without taking all of the blame if he didn’t issue out and document reprimands.

Valid ones at that.

“Darling, if I’d been in your position I wouldn’t be nearly so nice. Reprimands are the least of what’s necessary and deserved.” Realizing a moment later that it might be taken badly, Magnus adds, “but I’ve had decades and centuries of experience. I’ve failed and succeeded at thousands of things darling. My confidence isn’t just because of my power, it’s because I’ve fought for what I have. Worked my ass off. Same as you and while you will make mistakes, as long as you try to move forward, that’s what matters in the end.  Stagnation is the death of everything, lovely.”

Magnus lets that sit between them and then he stands, because he’s not going to try and get Alexander relaxed again. Magnus will only end up losing his temper and destroying something if he gets his boy nice and relaxed again only for it all to be ruined in a moment by others.

“Somewhere out of the city sounds nice.” Alexander offers and then he goes a step further, “but I only have hunter clothes with me, Magnus.”

Magnus doesn’t mind and his grin seems to show it if Alexander’s mildly alarmed look says anything.

“Oh darling, I have a closet and magic.  Did you think your options were limited?”

AN:

magnus is trying so hard to woo alec in this. he's like 'i got you baby'

and alec's like 'oh wow. support. never met her before. so uh, hi. i'm going to fuck this up 100%'

magnus: maybe let me do the percentages in this relationship, alexander. you're a little too dramatic to be handling numbers

-

magnus: .... you haven't reprimanded them yet? *in his mind he's slowly immolating the four of them because he knows they're why his boy keeps coming with more pain and less ability to notice magnus' interest and relax

alec expecting a lecture and insults: no...

magnus: that's okay sweetheart. better late than never, progress is what's important.

alec: is this... what validation feels like?

-

Magnus: sweetheart, you can't compare yourself to me. i've been high warlock for a few centuries now. i've been a leader and a follower and a ruler and many many things through my long life.

Alec: yeah but i--

Magnus: you're not even 25, Alexander. You're not even three decades of life old. you've been in command and responsible for others older and younger than you for almost a decade. that's a hefty burden. stop being mean to my boy

Alec: ... i'm not sure how to argue with any of this

Magnus: then don't. just let me take care of you

Magnus internally: HES OPENING UP!!! ITS WORKING!!!!

Also Magnus Internally: who is manipulating my boy? i'm the only one allowed to manipulate him and that's for self-care and health purposes. I WILL DESTROY THESE INTERLOPERS

Izzy and Jace: i feel strangely unsettled

Simon: oh, a disturbance in the force?

Izzy and Jace: what force?

-

magnus and alec having brunch somewhere shaded and cool with their feet in cool water and throwing a handful of dried oats to the local water fowl as they have a picnic.

Magnus thought that privacy would be better than other beings and he was right. Alec is having a great time, he's sitting next to magnus, they're feeding each other bites of food and while they aren't holding hands (because eating) their feet are swinging next to each other int he clear waters of the bank and alec is feeling like he's actually getting a moment to catch his breath

magnus understands that stress can kill and destabilize people. if he wants alec serious and into him, he needs to de-stress his boy so alec can make like, actual thought out decision rather than just reacting because he's in flight or fight.

[honeyrotsoul]

Pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x Ghost Reader

Word Count: 2,622

Tags: @butchersprophet @sweetnerdygirl

Here’s a very short, kind of sad Natalie fic. It’s based on one of my character ai bots, so I didn’t really know how I wanted to end it. But it’s not a terrible fic, I don’t think. (It’s just not on the same level as my Tai and Melissa fics so,,, you have been warned. The only reason that is is because, obviously, the base of this was meant for long form content.) I had an idea for a Lottie one shot that’s kind of similar, so I didn’t wanna give them the exact same ending, so I went with a more peaceful one for this? If this is your first time seeing one of my works, don’t judge me too hard based on this one I beg.

At this point, Natalie wasn’t sure what you were. A ghost? Some kind of fucked up hallucination? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that every day since they had been rescued, you had followed her around, whispering in her ear. Haunting her. Tormenting her. It didn’t matter anyway. Whatever you were, you were clearly here to stay, and no amount of vices could get rid of you. Hell, not even therapy could get rid of you - not that she had gone long. But she had tried.

She had tried so hard to get rid of you, but you stuck around like a memory burned into her skin.

Before the crash, you had been her girlfriend. Her beautiful, loving girlfriend that she loved with all her heart. You were one of the only people in the world that didn’t make her feel like a complete screw up. And that was why you haunted her, maybe, because Natalie had failed you in the Wilderness.

During the winter, you had drawn the card - the queen of hearts. Which meant your death was imminent. And instead of protecting you, she stood by, helplessly, while all of your friends chased you through the woods. She had wanted to help, she just… froze. And then, hunger set in. And she chased you too.

She didn’t remember which one of them caught you, Taissa, she thought. Or maybe it was ‘Other Tai.’ It was hard to tell which one of them was in control at times. Was there a difference?

Maybe. Maybe that difference was what made your life or death situation swivel rapidly towards death.

Or maybe it hadn’t been Taissa at all and Nat was only putting her there because it was easier to accept than the truth. The truth that she hadn’t pulled that trigger, but someone close to her had.

But either way, she finally understood why Shauna snapped when Jackie died. She had sat in that meat shed with your body until they ripped her away from you. And then she watched Shauna carve you up with precision that was damn near surgical. Too much practice with cutting people up for a girl her age. And when the time came, Natalie literally ate your heart. So yeah, maybe that was why you haunted her. Maybe that was why you chipped away at her fragile sanity.

She sat on the edge of her bed in the shitty trailer that she had hoped to never see again, staring blankly ahead at the wall. Two years. It had been two years since she got rescued. Why was the Wilderness still tormenting her? Hadn’t she been a good, unwilling pupil? No… no, because they were never supposed to leave those woods, and it was her fault that they did. She got them out, but at what cost? Maybe she shouldn’t have left. Shouldn’t have left your body alone out there - what was left of it, anyway. Buried in a shallow grave for the animals to one day find. And now she was here, as cold and numb as the skin that had been ripped from your bones.

You were both here. Forever trapped.

You were saying something, but she wasn’t hearing you. She pinched her eyes shut, taking a long swig of whatever long necked bottle she was hiding in that brown paper bag. “Shut the fuck up, you’re not real”, she finally hissed. My God, was she going insane? Was this what it was like for Lottie? For Shauna? How the hell does she make you just go. Away?

The silence that followed was almost loud. A ringing in her ears as you stared at her from where you stood. You blinked owlishly, fists clenched by your sides. “You don’t get to tell me to shut up after what you did.” Your words were cold, biting. Jackie’s necklace was still hanging around your neck, though the golden heart was slowly starting to rust. Was it like that for all of you? Did that necklace still hang from all your necks like a shackle, or was that just her imagination running wild?

You weren’t real. She had to remind herself of that. “I didn’t do shit”, she rasped out, hitting the bottle again.

You parted your lips, pale and ghostly, to argue with her. You were interrupted, however, by a pounding against the door - cheap metal and plastic made a horrific thunking. Nat groaned in response. She knew it wasn’t her mother. She’d taken the insurance money from Nat’s ‘death’ and moved somewhere nicer. It wasn’t exactly like the insurance company knew what to do when a person who was declared dead by the state suddenly showed up again. So, who was bothering her now?

Nat dragged herself to the front door, and you followed. Your footsteps were forever silent. It was like you didn’t exist at all.

Waiting on the rotting, wooden step was Travis. He didn’t look too good, and he too was holding a brown paper bag. There wasn’t a bottle in his. “Hey, I got the good stuff. I thought-“

But Natalie couldn’t hear him, couldn’t focus on his face, because you were trembling. Your breathing was heavy, labored, and your face was shaking with rage. Right. You’d never seen Travis here before. Usually, she went outside before you could follow, put enough distance between the two of you that you couldn’t just blink into existence because she was getting too fucked up to think about you. “What is he doing here?” Your voice was haughty and displeased, your nails biting into your skin. But you didn’t flinch, because you couldn’t feel pain anymore. “Get him out! Make him leave!”

Travis was still talking. You were still insisting. It was all giving Natalie a headache, and her ears were ringing again. “Travis, you have to go”, she blurted out.

Travis looked confused. “What? Why? Don’t you want-“

“I said get the fuck outta here, Travis!”, Nat snapped. “Where’s that nice girl you’re seeing now, huh? Go wherever she is and piss off.” She slammed the door shut, if only to get you to stop screaming at her. There was a confused cuss for Travis, but he eventually left. And Nat whirled on you like a rabid dog. Because, as fucked as it was, Travis was the only one who could understand her. And you’d just chased him away.

Or maybe it was all her, deep down.

“Why the fuck did you do that, huh?”, she snapped bitterly. “What the fuck is your problem? With me? With Travis?”

Your eyes stared straight to her soul. Or at least that was what it felt like. There was an expression on your face like you were offended she even asked you this. “You know”, you said simply.

“If I fucking knew, I wouldn’t ask”, Nat sneered, crowding your space. As if she could make you disappear if she was cruel enough.

“You know!”, you repeated, practically screaming in her face.

And then you pushed her.

Nat’s eyes went wide, because since when could you push her? But it didn’t matter, because her head was fuzzy - maybe bleeding - and she’d hit the wall so hard that it was like a gunshot, and now she was no longer in her crappy trailer but back in the Wilderness. Dear God, no. Had she never left? Had her life before this mount been a fever dream?

No, this wasn’t reality. This was a memory.

It was the dead of winter. Snow crunched beneath her feet. Her breath curled out in clouds in front of her. She was next to Travis. The rifle was steady between his hands, his expression grim, but firm.

And you were cowering at the base of a tree, giving her those pleading doe eyes. You weren’t wearing any layers. Jackie’s necklace was hanging from your neck, the golden heart swinging like a pendulum. Your breath escaped you in short bursts, clouding and disappearing. Snowflashes were collecting in your lashes, and you were trembling. Trembling in nothing more than the under layer you usually slept in.

There was a look on Travis’s face, and Nat knew. She knew. That look said ‘an eye for an eye.’ Javi had died in her place. She had taken something precious for him that day. He knew. She knew. Javi knew. You knew, too. And in exchange for that precious life, she too must lose something precious. You. And although she knew, she didn’t do anything. Because she was hungry. So fucking hungry. Your hand stretched out to her, lips parted to speak, and a gunshot rang out. The few remaining birds fled from the trees, squawking their annoyance at being disturbed. Probably wishing they had fled south with their friends.

When Nat looked at you again, you were wearing those same clothes. Your hair was full of snow. There was a hole in your chest, blood streaming down your abdomen. “You know”, you repeated quietly once more.

Nat’s eyes burned with tears, because she did know. She knew why you were angry. You deserved to be angry. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!”, you exclaimed. “No, you don’t get to be sorry now! And don’t baby me! You killed me!”

“I didn’t- I would never-“

“You let him, and that’s just as bad!”

The words hung heavy in the air. Was she truly just as bad as the rest of them? She let Javi die in her place. She let you die so she wouldn’t go hungry. Maybe she really was a monster too. “Y/n, why are you here?”

“I’m here because you won’t let me go!”, you practically sobbed.

Nat immediately shook her head, dark tendrils framing her face. She had let her natural hair color grow back in after the Wilderness. Needed to get away from it all. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!”, you insisted. “I’m here because you let me die out there, and now you won’t let me go! You think I can just be here on my own? That’s not how this works!”

“So sorry that I don’t know how being a ghost works, I’ve never been fucking dead!”, Nat shot back.

Your bottom lip quivered. She instantly felt bad. “When you do die, I won’t be waiting for you.”

Nat’s expression turned icy. Somehow, it was those words that finally angered her. “Good.”

You flinched, and then faded away. It was the first time you’d left her alone. “Fine. Who needs you anyway?”, she called to the empty space. She forced herself up, and went to grab another bottle.

A few days later, and Nat had never been more wasted. She staggered up the steps and into the empty, dark trailer. It was cold. She hated the cold now. But she hated being alone most of all.

“Y/N!”, she called drunkenly into the abyss. “Y/N, baby, where are you? I’m sorry. Baby, come back! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean for you to actually leave - fuck!”

“I’m right here.” Your voice was quiet, further away than before.

Nat whirled around to face you, her throat tight even as she relaxed. “Where did you go?” Your imagery seemed to flicker. “What’s happening to you?”

“Crossing over”, you said simply.

Nat bristled. “No”, she said firmly. “No, you can’t.”

“You wanted me to go away”, you said simply.

“Not like this”, Nat insisted. “Not forever. Fuck, I need you. I can’t just never see you again.” Her voice was pleading as she made her way over to you, reaching for your hands. But her fingers misted right through. There was a brief sense of panic and urgency on her face. What she had done to you was awful. The idea of never seeing you again was much worse. Didn’t you know that she needed you? Needed you like she needed air to breathe? “I was wrong. You can’t leave. You have to stay. I need you here.”

“You’ve finished your journey, Natalie”, you said softly. “It’s done.” You didn’t want to leave her. You were angry, bitter even, but you didn’t want to leave her. Life wasn’t supposed to go this way. It wasn’t supposed to cut through you like a knife. You were supposed to live a long and full, happy life. Instead you weren’t even six feet under, your body abandoned and forgotten.

“No, it’s not!”, Natalie insisted. “If you go away then I’ll follow you.”

“No, you won’t”, you scoffed. Your gaze softened. “Natalie, you can’t move on if you hold on to me.”

Nat took a deep breath. “I know that.”

You stepped forward, and suddenly she could feel your presence again. Your arms wrapped around her and it was almost warm. Almost. It was still far colder than she was used to. “I can’t stay.”

“I need you to”, Nat said quietly. “I loved you. I love you.”

“I know.”

Your skin once again turned icy. Your touch lingered for a moment longer and then slowly began to fade, slipping through her fingers like sand. “No, no, wait”, Natalie pleaded. “Just stay with me a little longer.”

“Okay.”

So, she curled up into bed with you. For a moment, it was like before. She could feel your warmth, hear your breathing, smell the scent of your shampoo. You tilted your head back just enough to give her a lingering, icy kiss, your arms wrapped around her middle as if that alone would keep you from fading away. Anchored you for a few moments longer. And if you had just marked her for death, she didn’t care. She didn’t care, because at least she got to hold you for a moment longer.

“There will be other things in this world for you”, you whispered once she was asleep. “You just have to know what to look for. Love is all around you, Natalie. Remember to let it in.” She had never felt this at peace. Not in a long time. Neither had you.

But when she woke up in the morning, she was alone. Her head was pounding, and the trailer was quiet. More quiet than it usually was. The trailer was cold. Not the unbearable kind, but still cold.

And you were nowhere to be found. Not in the bed. Not in the little corner where you would sit and demand her to read to you. Not behind her eyes. Not even in the mirror.

Natalie tried to breathe. Just breathe and do nothing else. This was far from peace. Maybe it could be the beginning of it. Acceptance. Acceptance of who she was and who she could be. Acceptance that you were gone. You were gone, and she wouldn’t see you again until she too was a gone girl whose heart would never beat again.

Outside, the snow started to melt. She could hear birds for the first time in a long time. She stood and went to the front door, opened it and looked out. Maybe you weren’t gone forever. She could smell your perfume on the breeze, hear your laughter in the trees. You were everywhere, if she knew where to look. The wind tussled her hair, and it reminded her of you - the way your fingers would run through her hair at night while you watched some dumb movie. “I loved you”, she said to nothing, to everything.

She stepped outside, closed the door on the past. Her boots thunked against the ground as she took a deep breath and started walking, taking out the ridiculously ugly Nokia that was stuffed in her pocket, and dialed one of the few numbers she had saved. “Misty, hey. You wanna go get lunch?”

[that-basic-simp]

Safe Word

Sophia x Fem! Reader CW: Filthy, pure filth WC: 2.4k+ A/N: Well, we all expected this. Anyway, hope you all enjoy and yes, this is a very filthy one-shot.

MDNI

"You sure you want to do this?"

"If this is what you want, yes. I don't mind."

A skeptical look crossed her face, but then it was replaced with a smirk.

"My, my. I didn't expect this from you, my little wretch."

"Anything for you, mistress."

"Careful what you wish for," she chuckled a bit darkly, some blush crawling onto her cheeks.

Despite that cold and harsh front she put on when we first met, she was such a soft woman who just wanted to be loved. To be seen. She kept things safe and people take her for granted. I've told her my deepest and darkest secret, and while we have yet to interact with other people, she hasn't told a single soul here in the house. Despite there being a lot of gossip. And while she can be a bit hard to please, especially during intimacy, the way she cares for me afterwards is the most caring I have ever seen.

"I don't care about the results, mistress. Please, let me show you I can be useful."

She smirked once more, "You already have."

She pulled at the leash that was attached to the collar around my neck, tugging my body towards her. I wriggled just a bit, but it was going to be hard to move with my arms behind me, and a ribbon wrapped somewhat tightly around my wrists.

"My, my. You look pathetic," she snickered. "All of this for me."

"E-Everything for you, mistress."

She tilted her head to the side slightly, the corner of her mouth perked up slightly for a small smile.

"Don't forget our safe word, alright?" she nodded with concern.

"I won't."

"Good," she said and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I wouldn't want a pathetic little wretch like you to snap so easily. If I wanted to see that, I would ask Dasha or Shelley to do it."

"Maybe I want you to do it, mistress."

"Only if you want to be dead and buried."

"And bricked," I chuckled nervously.

She tugged the leash harsher, our faces mere inches from one another, "Pathetic."

"All for you, mistress."

"What do you want, my little wretch?"

"You, mistress."

She smirked once more, pulling me closer to where our lips were grazing one another.

"Then you'll get me, my little wretch."

She released her hold on the leash and gently pushed me down onto the bed. Sophia removed the ribbon, only to readjust the position of my arms. She pulled them over my head and tied my wrists once more.

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah. Thank you, mistress."

"Anything for my little wretch," she said and pressed a quick kiss to my lips.

"Now then, I'm going to watch you wriggle around like the little worm you are."

"I would want nothing more."

"Good," she smiled and pressed a kiss to my neck.

At first they were soft, cautious. But once she found her confidence, which didn't take long, they became hard kisses. Then they turned into biting and sucking. I titled my head back and let out a soft moan. Her hands roamed my soft skin, leaving trails of her warmth. It started at my wrists and then it went down my arms, over my chest, and then to my stomach. The pads of her fingers ran up and down my curves, as if she was trying to remember the shape of me. I'm sure she already has. With that look in her eyes, she could see all of me.

Once she has left her mark, her kisses slowly trailed down to my chest, over my stomach, and to my inner thighs. The back of my knees rested on her broad shoulders. The shoulders I love to kiss and give my attention to. She carried the weight of the world on them, so it's only natural that I give them the much needed appreciation they deserve. As well as herself.

"Remember our safe word," she said.

"Always, mistress."

She winked at me before nibbling the flesh of my inner thigh, getting me more riled up that she wasn't going in already. She had teased me enough before this, she doesn't need to tease me more. I bucked my hips a bit, trying to get her to move a bit faster. She didn't like that. A dark look appeared in her eyes as she bit my thigh harshly.

"Fuck!"

"Hush now. Take it slow, wretch. You can't rush this."

"Please, mistress," I whined.

"Beg for me then."

"P-Please, mistress. Please, let me feel your fingers and your tongue inside me. Fuck me senseless until I am worthless and pathetic."

She smiled at me as she pressed a kiss to the bite mark.

"That's a good little wretch."

Her tongue teased at first, the tip flicking at my entrance. I whined slightly, which caused her to back up a bit. Even if I wasn't begging with my words, my eyes said it all. I stared longingly and deeply into hers. She got the message as she took one long, slow swipe with her tongue. I tilted my head back more and let out a soft moan, relishing in all that she was. Her hands grabbed at my waist as she pulled me towards her, her lips meeting my entrance. She kissed here and there until she started to suck.

I desperately wanted to run my hand through her short blonde hair, to push her closer and deeper. To hold her there until she was through with me. Her one hand was removed from my waist and her middle finger was inserted. I let out another moan, my legs wrapping around her head. If my hands weren't going to keep her in place, my legs might as well. Another finger was inserted and then her tongue came in afterwards. Everything was pure heaven. The way her fingers pressed against my walls and how her tongue went in and out, creating that friction and fluids to keep everything that was going in and out with ease.

"F-Fuck, right there, mistress."

She dug her tongue as deep as it could go, the same with her fingers. Before I knew it, a knot started to form and within seconds, it unraveled and my fluids rushed out. Sophia's eyes fluttered closed as she swallowed everything, licking up the rest as I was coming down from my high. Once my body calmed and my legs loosened around her head, she removed her head from between my legs. Her lips and chin glistened with my fluids. There was even a small strand hanging from her bottom lip.

"Very good, wretch. Such a sweet taste."

"T-Thank you, mistress," I breathed out.

"Shall I give you a few minutes?" she asked as she crawled up my body, resting her head on my chest.

"Please."

"Alright. Need anything?"

"Just some water."

"Here," she reached up and removed the ribbon.

She got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. As she was walking, she was conscious of how she was. She swayed her hips a bit more deliberately than normal. I fell even harder for her as I watched her from the backside, getting a good look at her back, those thighs, and of course that ass. I whistled as she walked into the bathroom.

"Damn."

She turned her head over her shoulder, "Like what you see?"

"Very much."

"Get used to it. You're not going to see it that much."

"Maybe. Maybe not," I smiled.

She smiled back at me. She disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water. She sat beside me and handed it to me.

"Thank you," I said and drank some.

"Let me know when you're ready," she said and rubbed my leg. "I didn't bite you too hard did I?"

"Just a bit," I said, noticing the bite mark was starting to get red.

"Love, why didn't you say anything?" she asked, placing her hand on my cheek.

"I was enjoying it."

"I know, but your safety and sense of feeling comfortable comes before your pleasure. Please, next time, if I hurt you in any way, even if you're enjoying it, let me know."

I reached up and took Sophia's hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

"Of course, love."

"Thank you," she said and pressed a sweet and loving kiss to my lips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I know. And thank you. I don't want to hurt you either. So if I am hurting you, let me know."

"I will."

"Thank you. I'm ready if you are."

"Oh fuck yes," she said.

I giggled as I pressed one more quick kiss to her cheek.

"I'll be right back," I said.

I got up and walked over to a drawer in the bathroom. I pulled out the one lone item and came back into the bedroom. Sophia was already there waiting for me.

"They most famous saying is heavy is the crown," Sophia said.

"They should say, heavy are the hips that wear the strap," I smiled eagerly as I put the strap on.

"You're right on that."

Once I made sure everything was secure, I turned back to Sophia.

"This size ok?"

"Yes."

"I-I can switch it out for a smaller size?"

"Y/N, love," she said in such a soft voice. "It's fine. Now come here and take me to pound town."

"Always, mistress," I said and got onto the bed.

Before we did anything, I placed two fingers in my mouth and got them wet enough. I found my place right in between Sophia's legs and pressed my lips harshly to hers. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her hand dug into the back of my hair. My one hand traversed her curves and the other slid in between her legs and inside her. She bit my lip as she tried to hold back from squeezing me a bit too hard. I pushed my fingers in her and she let out a moan, allowing me to slip my tongue inside her mouth. My other arm wrapped around her waist and my hand ran up and down her back.

"Fuck," she whispered as she pulled away to breathe.

"Do you want me to fuck you, mistress?"

"Yes, please, wretch. Give your mistress what she wants."

"And what does my mistress want?"

She still had the collar and leash around my neck. With a quick jerk, I was tugged towards her to where my head was beside hers.

"You," she whispered in my ear in the most seductive voice I have ever heard from her.

It send a shiver down my spine as my fingers pumped in and out a bit faster.

"Do you want it rough, mistress?"

"As rough as you can go."

"Anything for you, mistress."

I pulled my fingers out to find it was glistening with fluids. I spread it along the strap and grabbed at her thighs, aligning the tip with her. I looked up and she nodded.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

I slowly pushed the tip inside and Sophia's head tilted back, her eyes closing as a loud moan and a soft whimper escaped her mouth.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"Is this ok, mistress?"

"Yes. You're fine," she said as she grabbed at the bed sheets beneath us.

"Ok," I said and slowly pushed the rest of the strap in.

Once our hips were together, I shifted around before I stopped, letting her get used to the size. I pressed my forehead against hers and lightly pecked her lips a few times. Right as I was about to pull away, she reached up and grabbed my jaw. She pulled me in for a rough make out session. I placed my hands on her shoulders as her tongue danced across mine. I shuddered once more as I got the faint taste of myself from her.

"Fuck me," she demanded once she pulled away.

"Yes, mistress."

I placed my hands on her hips and slowly pulled out and then back in. Her soft moans were music to my ears and the way she pulled me closer to her body. Our chests were pressed up against one another's and her arms were wrapped around my neck, once more digging into my hair.

"Faster," she said after a few minutes of going at a slow pace.

I wrapped my arms around her tightly as I started to get faster, pulling out halfway and then forcefully pushing in.

"Harder," she demanded.

I did as she wanted, thrusting with all my might. The sound of skin on skin contact filled the room as well as my grunts and her moans and whimpers. Who knew Sophia could be so vocal? Even though it wasn't our first time, it still felt like it.

"How's my mistress?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

She grabbed the leash and tugged me close to her.

"You better fuck me like you mean it, wretch."

She meant business now. She wanted her release and she wanted it now. I pressed my lips against hers and started to go as best as I could. I pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her. She moaned against my lips, causing our kisses to become sloppy. She pulled away and placed her head into my shoulder. She let out a whine before I slammed into her one more time, her fluids spilling out. Now it was just us breathing heavily that filled the once noisy room.

"A-Are you ok?"

She nodded, "Y-Yeah."

"I'm going to pull out."

"G-Give me a minute."

"Ok."

We laid on the bed, our arms wrapped around one another. She patted my shoulder blade, signaling me I can pull the strap out. I pulled it out and took it off, setting it on the ground beside the bed.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Just some water."

"Ok."

"Are you ok to move?"

"I should be fine."

I slowly got up and went into the bathroom, getting her a glass of water. I handed it to her before cuddling up beside her. She pulled a sheet up to cover our bodies. Even though we were sticky with sweat and other fluids, she wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close to her.

"Did I do ok?" I asked.

"You did great."

"Thanks. You did, too."

"Thank you."

I let out a yawn before cuddling closer to her.

"You can't fall asleep just yet. We gotta get washed up," she chuckled.

"But you're just so warm," I smiled and nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"Ten minutes," she said.

"Ok," I mumbled.

She kissed the top of my head before resting hers on top of mine.

"I know I don't really say it that much, but I do appreciate all you do for me," she whispered.

"You don't need to say it. I know you do with what you do for me."

"But sometimes I should say it. So that you can actually hear it."

"Thank you. For always telling me."

"You're welcome. And," she pulled away and lifted my head up. I found her eyes, even if mine were half lidded.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too, Sophia," I said and kissed her.

[prettyboykatsuki]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, experimental, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom, deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPREGNATES ME WITH HIS BABIES.

read every word of this. its like gospel. To Me

[yeonban]

Unprompted: Valentine's Day.

@cinderlynx asked: / v day ask for tobias ofc !

❝ if cupid dares to come stompin’ around on my turf , i’ll waste that annoying little pervert without a second thought . ❞ generally speaking , ash has no discernible feelings regarding the day of love . sure , it’s always a hassle having to evade golzine’s attempts at delivering sickeningly expensive gifts that’ll only get traded for a whole buncha pizzas . yeah , receiving flowers &. chocolates from squealing girls he’s never seen before in his life definitely gets in the way of his daily obligations as a cold - blooded leader . the whole day feels like it’s just an elaborate ploy orchestrated to tank his reputation . regardless , ash knows there are worse things in the world than eye - sore teddy bears &. heart shaped cakes , so he usually treats the day with cold hard indifference despite his personal grievances . this time around , however , the blonde appears abnormally agitated for reasons unbeknownst to even the genius himself . enough to get him talking considerably more than usual - willingly , to tobias of all people . ❝ i mean , just who the hell does he think he is ? someone’s gotta be blamed for the obscene amount of couples shamelessly standing around , practically eating each-other’s faces off in the damn subway . i’m sick of it , man . they should wipe this stupid holiday off the freakin’ calendars &. burn down all the stores robbin’ people of their dime in the name of love , or whatever the hell - ❞ ash , suddenly very aware of the one sitting beside him , makes the swift decision to cut his petty tangent short , despite the plentiful mountain of irritation yet to be alleviated through bitching to a friend .

in the company of quite literally anyone else , he ain’t gotta worry about spur of the moment complaints resulting in genuine plans to enact violence or destruction on those who’ve soured his day . maybe he’s being paranoid , but the blonde sure as hell ain’t willing to risk it - no way , not when that bastard’s said shit like ‘ do you want me to kill your enemies? ’ &. ‘ i'll do it, i mean it. ’ with his full fucking chest . ❝ . . . that ain’t a suggestion , ‘ case you were wondering . ❞ nothing more than a small sigh preludes the gentle collision between ash’s palm &. the side of the brunettes head - a little toss for good measure . seems the lynx has grown bored of seething , if his blossoming smirk means anything at all . luckily for valentines day , ash has sized up a new target to occupy his mind with . he’ll just have to continue cursing out cupid some other time . ❝ so , what about you , your majesty ? spirit of love got you all swirly eyed for anyone just yet ? don’t tell me you let that fuckin’ baby with a bow stick some arrows in you . infidelity’s a real twisted thing , y’know ? don’t go breakin’ my tender little heart , now . who knows what the boys’ll say . ❞

Not a peep leaves Tobias' mouth while he listens earnestly to the other's complaints, many of which he himself has also uttered months or years prior, and it's a mixture of satisfaction at their growing similarities and amusement at Ash's vehement anti-romantic spirit that has the brunette staring at the blond with a captivated smile on his face all throughout the other's protest. Though rare, or perhaps because of that rarity, hearing Ash dominate the conversation instead of the other way around is a surprisingly pleasant change of pace, and the topic that has pushed him into this frenzy being such a childish one only adds to the appeal of the situation. This big bad gang leader genius, overflowing with grievances about harmless, heart-shaped things and loving relationships... heh, Tobias doubts he could have chosen a more ironic subject for Ash and his loving little heart to grumble about if he'd tried.

The complaints suddenly come to a halt however, and it doesn't take half of his IQ to figure out why long before the other decides to clarify the benignness of his criticisms out loud. Of course dear ol' Ash would overthink himself into the worst-case scenario after having been privy to Tobias' dedication, and it's a positive thing that he's come out and verbalized these concerns now rather than let his worries fester further. After all, it won't do for Ash to thread on nails whenever they're together thanks to whatever incorrectly preconceived notions he's come up with in his head; not when Tobias seeks to bring the exact opposite outcome to fruition and lead Ash into ultimately feeling at complete ease around him. ❛ Don't think yourself into a headache, worrywart. The whole point of my decisions is to make your life better. If I went and got rid of those stores now, won't you just feel guilty for robbing these poor local business owners and their lovesick customers of the Valentine's Day experience? I mean, what if those stores were their only source of income? What if it was those couples' first date? Why, the sheer horror of having something that precious ruined! ❜ Despite his dramatically aghast tone, Tobias cares little for these trivialities. Whether someone's livelihood is grounded to dust, or a romance is led astray, his heart does not budge and his brain thinks nothing of their plight. Still... although he wouldn't have bothered to contemplate such boring circumstances were he on his lonesome, this is unfortunately something that Ash is assuredly going to take into consideration every single time; and thus something Tobias ought to account for as well.

It must be a rollercoaster to despise something but nonetheless have the heart to not wish ill upon those partaking in it, and to even go the extra mile to ensure that nothing shall take their happiness away in spite of it clashing with Ash's own. Tobias can't relate to any of this benevolence, of course, but it appears he does care enough to go out of his way and placate the blond even when, had the object of his affections not been as kind-hearted of a person as Ash is, the mafioso would have picked the easier solution and brought merciless ruination to anything worsening the other's day as soon as such a fact would've become obvious. ❛ Listen, Ash... I know your sweet little heart could never accept the idea of me shattering those random people's lives, so don't worry. You can keep blowing off steam around me without having to think about the potential fallout. I'll be a good boy, I promise. Not even one frown will come out of you 'cause of me, 'kay? I'm being real attentive to all of your cute little quirks to make sure of that, so no need to walk on any broken shards around me. I know what'll make you happy and what won't. ❜ And, thankfully, he already has several ideas in mind come next Valentine's Day. Ash's gripe seems to rest mainly with the obnoxious atmosphere outside, but if that's the only thing bothering him... well, it shouldn't be too hard to peacefully resolve it. Money can do wonders, whether to create a specific environment outside of NYC and pay businesses to move over there for the day, thus bringing their customers along as well; or to provide couples and spouses with free tickets to various expensive romantic spots outside of NYC on the day of. That way, Ash should be spared the guaranteed nausea, and Tobias the constraints of having to keep his ideas restricted to the inside of their houses.

The smile on his face persists even as Ash gently smacks him, and he lifts a hand in kind to reach out and playfully ruffle the blonde's hair in pacifying response. Not that he needs a cue anymore before going ahead and touching Ash at this point in their friendship, but there is no world in which Tobias will turn down what he perceives to be an opportunity to be even more touchy with the other than he would have been had Ash not initiated a touch first. ❛ Why all this Cupid hate, though? You've been talking about the despicable love in the air for a while now. It's starting to sound more like jealousy than anything else. What happened, princess, upset that you don't have someone to be lovey-dovey with? Is that why you've filled out that Valentine application for me? Aww-- ❜ The snickers that follow sound obnoxiously mocking, though the brunette wholeheartedly believes this is at least part of the reason behind Ash's dissatisfaction with the couples roaming the city. For him specifically, it must look like yet another display of what he is forbidden from ever experiencing, and thus act as a reminder that he is different from those people. Or however else that self-induced delusion of his goes. From Tobias' point of view, the barriers Ash continually sets between himself and what he wishes for are beyond inane, and it's taking quite a while for the older teen's carefully worded declarations and fastidiously taken actions to set the blonde's messed up brain back on the right track again after such absurd thoughts have made their home out of it for what is likely the better half of his life.

The topic switches to Tobias though, and the smile he dons becomes more theatrical with each passing second, the hand previously busying itself in Ash's hair returning to his own side to rest atop his heart in usual feign. ❛ So you are attached to our relationship after all! Phew, everything in the world is well again. You've taken a stone off my heart with that one. ❜ And while everything points towards a staged reaction (which it is to an extent), Tobias truly does feel a smidgen of relief at Ash's unexpected fondness of this spur of the moment decision they've agreed on months prior. It isn't the first time, nor the second, nor even the third, when the blonde has referenced this "relationship" of theirs despite having had no third parties present to notice what a good job he's been doing as a fake boyfriend, and it leaves Tobias wondering if Ash has begun to foster similar feelings to the ones plaguing himself, because few other hypotheses can explain why jokes such as these have been making such constant reappearances. It's too early to tell for sure though, and while Tobias prides himself on his rationality, he doesn't entirely trust his opinion on this particular issue just yet, not when he's aware of just how easily his own biases could have wiggled their way in and clouded the actual reality.

Ash's question prompts a hum, somewhat irresolute, and the mafioso supposes it won't hurt to test those waters right here, right now. If he's wrong about his guess and nothing is out of the ordinary, then Ash should simply go about business as usual, and perhaps tease him about his crush 'til the novelty of the news wears off. Alternatively, if Ash has started to care about Tobias' love life more than a regular friend would, it should be easy grounds for a more assertive approach from his end in their near future. ❛ But I'm afraid I have to bring bad news. I might have left my window open overnight or something, 'cause I think Cupid did manage to shoot his shoot on me. I've never understood the concept he stands for though, so maybe you can tell me if what I'm going through is love or not. That way, we'll be sure of it. ❜ It's partially the truth, since he really doesn't know what can qualify as love or even what love means at the end of the day, but it's also an indirect manner through which to study Ash's reactions without blatantly piquing his suspicions.

With a finger tapping at his temple in what appears to be idle contemplation, and with his gaze falling lower into seemingly the void of introspection, Tobias begins to list off his "symptoms". No longer focusing on Ash anymore should make the enigmatic recipient of his fondness more of a mystery than staring Ash dead in the eye the entire time would. ❛ Let's see... what got my alarms blaring was how often I'd find myself thinking of this person. I mean really, what business do I have linking everything back to them, day in and day out? It's like I'm working overtime and never clocking out. 'sides, whenever I think of them I start losing interest in whatever else I'm doing at the moment, and I immediately want to get up and go see them. Don'tcha think that's just a biit troublesome for someone in my position? Honestly... I think my business partners have started wondering if their ideas are boring enough to be the cause of me leaving five minutes into their presentations every time. ❜

Another hum, intentionally more troubled-sounding than its predecessor. ❛ What else is there... ah, right. I've been in a real good mood lately. You probably don't know this, but I've been bored beyond measure since as far back as I can remember. I don't think I've ever been in a good mood for longer than a week. Well, at least not 'til now. ❜ Fleetingly, he wonders whether this tidbit will tip Ash off about the mysterious person's true identity, or whether his self-doubts will stand in the way of even that. After all, if Ash has barely ever seen Tobias in anything other than a good mood, and if the brunette's latest words are to be taken at face value, then it should mean the one creating Tobias' good moods is at least located in NYC, if not currently right in front of him. ❛ Something I'm sure you did notice, though, is that I like doing whatever I want, whenever I feel like it. But lately even that's changed a bit. I've found myself considering how the things I want to do will affect this person, and I've even cut back on some of them. Bewildering coming from me, right? Even I'm still shocked by this. ❜

A sigh heralds the (temporary) end of his "woes" and the tapping stops; while grey eyes rise to once again meet Ash's and thoroughly examine each of his microexpressions. ❛ There's probably a bunch of more developments I forgot to mention, 'cause I just can't tell if they're relevant or not, so how about you ask me about the usual tell-tale signs of this disease, doc? I'm sure everyone will want to know if it's terminal or not. ❜ And, although he'd planned to dip soon anyway so he could finish his surprise for the other, Tobias opts to phrase things more vaguely now that Ash has shown interest in his love affairs. Rather than use a meeting or something of the sort as the excuse for his soon-to-be departure, he instead allows for a more open-ended conclusion. If Ash's mind jumps directly to the possibility of Tobias heading for a date with someone else given the holiday at hand and the fact that he is going to willingly leave Ash alone when he allegedly has the option not to, then all the better for figuring out what Ash's actual feelings on this matter are. ❛ By the way, I want to leave in an hour, so if we're going to get to the bottom of this, you should start firing away. Either that, or we can hang out again later in the day. ❜ If he'd heard himself without holding prior knowledge of why he wants to leave, even he'd have thought he had hit his head on something this morning.

[autism-corner]

shaking beast time

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ he sees you in lingerie — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, reader wears lingerie, oral (fem! receiving), very messy, creampie, doggy, slightly toxic, fingering, established relationship, they're whipped fr

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

your sexiest pair of lingerie literally drops zayne's jaw— and then his composure, slowly but surely as his laugh forms soft, later broken and akin to darkness, "you wore this for me?" his hands roughly grab your wrists, pinning you down to make you say it again, please, say it like you meant it, "look at you," he growls, voice already gravel alike.

"sweet little thing, begging to be ruined, you've done this on purpose, haven't you?" and the man makes a mess of you in seconds— ripping the thin lace and shoving your legs apart, sloppily attacking your neck with kisses which felt more like bites.

zayne fucks you like he's angry at the world and you're the only softness left, and when he finishes? well, he doesn't pull out, no— he watches his milky cum drip down your thighs like it's proof that you're belonging to him, "mine," within seconds, he groans out your name again and pushes himself back inside to put his cum all where it belonged, over and over, like he'll carve it into your soul.

lust pours off him like steam as he palms your waist and shoves you deeper into the mattress— not hard, but firm enough to remind you who's in charge here.

and when you look up at him— sweet little thing that didn't even know what you've asked for, you grind back against his body as he pushes himself lower, licking down your stomach, claiming you with his tongue flicking between your thighs like a promise and a threat all at once, teeth grazing your flesh just hard enough for it to sting.

zayne ruts his tongue against your folds shamelessly, whispering filth into your cunt like he needs you to hear every word of what he's going to do to you, "you look like a fucking sin dressed up as a dream, baby, all this lace you're still wearing? it's coming off with my teeth."

his hands were all over you, ripping and shredding and biting as he presses his face further into your cunt, kissing hard into your clit, groaning into the skin like he's slowly losing control due to the simplicity of your taste— and truly, he was losing it, faster than you originally thought.

"you made me like this," he growls, "look at what you fucking do to me."

your hips were bucking into his tongue as his cock presses tight against the mattress, twitching the little impulses on his erection away as every lick between your folds felt like the edge of the cliff before he shoves you off as he growls when he feels your slick pool out of you, ultimately completely ripping your panties apart with a snarl.

"you're soaked," he says, "it's so pretty to see," and it sounds like an accusation, almost, like a curse? as if he wasn't the sole reason as to why you were dripping wet already, "you wanted me mad, didn’t you?"

and now you've got zayne furiously devouring you, his hands gripping your thighs, dragging you closer with a kind of desperation that felt less like desire and more like obsession— and his mouth never left its place, tongue alternating between quick, breathless swipes and long, drawn-out licks of wetness which melted your spine and left you helpless, helpless against the hunger of it all.

you do not stand a chance, not a single one and were already dizzy with how close you were, how shamefully fast he's undone you, the sight of him between your legs enough to split your sanity wide open.

pleasure built inside you as his lips suckled at your clit to zap through every single nerve in your body like lightning in a storm, without a doubt, he was relentless, his tongue moving without rest and all you could do was let go as your back arched off the bed, eyes screwed shut, mouth opened in a silent scream as you tumbled over the edge.

thighs clenched around zayne's head— and he looks up at you with that damned smirk of his, the one you knew very well, "you think i'm gonna let you walk after this?" he hisses, placing a subtle kiss on your clit, "baby, i'm gonna fuck you so full, you'll forget what silence sounds like."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier looks at you like you've undone him with a single thread as his breath stutters before he stands in front of your pretty frame— staring, like he's seeing something he's not supposed to, and the way a longing curls into his belly felt like sickness, all from the sight of the lacy fabric hugging your hips.

"fuck," he chokes angrily, flustered by you, "do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" as his hands find your waist, then slide down, slowly, as he towers on top of you like it's worship— his tongue tracing your breasts, his fingers squeezing the sides of your hips as he hooks his digits into the band of your lingerie.

the lingerie in itself was black and clinging, thin where it should conceal, sheer where it shouldn't, a masterpiece, yeah? and it makes his balls swell and his groin twitch in his pants, yet xavier smiles, so sickly sweet it drips down like syrup from a knife, sweet only in the way rot is sweet, in the way evil was soft and persuading before it devours you, a smile that says you're in trouble, yes— but worse, that he'll enjoy every second of it.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" his voice was low, wet with need as he fucks you with desperate, stuttering thrusts, his whole body quaking, "say it," he gasps, losing rhythm, "say you want me, say you need me to mess you up," and when you do? he shatters— with his mouth instantly attacking your throat, your name bleeding from his lips like a confession too filthy to share.

"fuck, angel," he sighs, already moving, already crowding your walls with his twitching erection taking all the space in your pussy, as your entire body melts and your heart bursts out your chest, "dressed like this just to tempt me, huh?"

he presses against you further as you can feel him, so fucking well— piercingly hard and twitching, his cock trapped within your pussy that's growing damper and damper with every filthy grind he gave you as his mouth crashes to yours— his tongue sloppy without a clear pattern as he moans into you when you whimper out his name, his hands skating down to your thighs, spreading them shamelessly.

you need to realize that xavier doesn't ask, he takes, "you were made for me," he growls between licks as if it would hurt to stop, his mouth slicked up with spit and sin, dripping from his chin as his tongue works lower, slower, then rough again, "no one else, no one."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

uh, well, your originally smart and devilish plan didn't unfold the way you've had imagined, not quite.

look at it now, rafayel had no desire to touch you nor curse, with no gasp leaving between his lips, instead— he laughs, a dark and low, like thunder breaking over water laugh that made your thighs press together as his eyes rake over you slowly, cruelly, as if he wanted to devour you whole and still leave enough of you to feel every second of it.

"how generous of you," he says, voice like poison laced with honey, "offering yourself up in such pretty little threads."

then he rises, slowly, takes his time peeling the silk off your body with his hands, one strap at a time, dragging his knuckles down your chest, your stomach, your hips as his mouth follows, lips cold, breath hot, every kiss leaving behind a trace— first spit, then glistening bruises, lastly sharpened teeth.

he bends you on your stomach— his body flushed to your back as he presses his cock hard between your ass, still clothed, grinding with desperate need as his mouth hovers over your shoulder, "you don't get to walk away after this," rafayel promises, "not looking like that."

but then you cry out his name in warbled moans and the cutest sobs, reaching back for his large, veiny hand because you secretly liked being used, grasping at his hand like you need it to survive, and he lets you have it— lets your fingers clamp tight around his as you inch back against him frantically.

you're moving like you can't help it— hips rolling against his swollen cock, his tip nudging your hole, dragging your slick against his and welcoming his fumbling hands before he finally lets you get it for real this time, taking the rest of your lingerie of as it turns feral, the kind of motion born from madness, from ache so deep it eats you alive.

and rafayel cannot stop licking you, his mouth was everywhere, spit dripping down your skin, tongue lapping and sloppily hungry at your neck, like he's starved and you're the last thing on this wretched earth. he enters you at the same rhythm you grind back, friction filthy and wet between you, an unspoken sync that should shame you both but only drives you further.

rafayel doesn't just fuck you, he studies your reactions, catalogs them, every moan, every cry, every pathetic little whimper, "so fucking desperate," he snarls, shoving his cock further and then dragging it out fully, slow and filthy, "you wore this just so i'd ruin you, didn't you?"

and ruin you he does, isn't that right? over the edge of the bed, hand in your hair, voice low and venomous at your ear, "scream for me, princess, louder, you fucking love this," he groans, his voice raw and broken against your throat, tongue flicking out again to taste the salt of your sweat, to drown in it, "feel how soaked you are— grinding back and fucking my cock like a damn animal— fuck, you're fucking dripping for it, aren't you?"

and you are, you're soaking his cock and the insides of your thighs, his pelvis, even beyond that, soaking yourself— even worse, you can hear it, the slick, the wet, the mess you made from being overstimulated so fucking much.

the drive off the edge was when he began spitting on it— hot and thick globules of saliva against your warm pussy, splattering it up all disgustingly, then going further in doing it to your back and your shoulders— smearing it with his mouth, grinding harder, meaner, into that spot that makes you clench and whine.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

sylus sees you and goes still, not blank— no, there's too much boiling heat buzzing from under his skin— although still, like an animal ready to pounce, his eyes darken, head tilted, mouth parting as if trying to find suitable words but failing.

his voice cuts, sleek and sharpened like glass dragged slow across your skin as he tells you to; "take it off."

"take it off," but you don't, not even after he's told you the second time, instead, you smile and he snaps instantly.

"i said—" his words die on his tongue, smothered by the press of your lips he angrily groans into your mouth, teeth knocking into yours when his hands tear at the flimsy material, wanting it gone immediately.

his fingers were bruising, pulling and pushing and gripping your thighs so hard they ache as he pushes you into the wall, a hand passionately around your throat— not choking, not yet— but possessive, a reminder.

he turns you around as he grinds at your pretty ass being all so cute and sweet on display for him, pressing his cock between the mounds of flesh like he's lost in a heat that won't break, "you're beautiful," he admires, "mine, mine, fuck, you look like a fucking dream, i hate it."

he bites at your shoulder, marks you until his name was written into your skin as his hands wander down, fingers pushing inside without warning as he groans at the feeling of your wet cunt, at how ready and prepared you were for him— and when you sob his name, when your legs squeeze together, he grabs your chin and forces you to look back at him.

his fingers were already deep inside your panties and there's nothing in the way now— just his veiny hand and your cunt, and obviously, the mess that binds them together. he slides his fingers through your folds and spreads the slick like he owns it, like he's been starved for this taste of you, humming at how your folds spread so obediently for him, how you're already dripping wet and whining at how sensitive he's got you, your arousal gushing like a wound that won't close.

"so wet already," he breathes against your throat, lips dragging his spit over your neck and jaw, "look at this, baby— your pretty pussy's begging for me," sylus laughs as his thumb circles your entrance, never quite pressing in— just teasing, just ghosting over that trembling rim, watching you twitch and gasp and grind against his hand like a thing possessed.

desperation twists at your spine, lips parting in a whimper you couldn't contain as your thighs turned sticky with your own arousal, making a mess of yourself across his palm as he spreads you open with two fingers at last, groaning low at the shimmer on your pussy dampening his digits instantly and the way you flutter and clench around nothing but his knuckles.

"you need it that bad, huh? all this for me? look at you—" his voice splits into a laugh, yet turns darker still, spit trailing from the corner of his mouth as your hole pulses at the filth of his voice, more slick drooling out with every breath, soaking his hand, soaking the sheets, soaking everything.

your body jerks with every slow stroke of his knuckles, every press that doesn't give enough— fuck, didn't fill you, you wanted him and not this— yet he doesn't stop fingering you embarrassingly cruel, never giving you what you needed, not yet, in fact, sylus wants you crying from how empty you were, sobbing from the absence of his dripping dick wrecking havoc, he wanted you on weak knees, shaking and soaked and ruined before he ever gave you his mercy.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

caleb sees you and almost trips over himself— twitching, alive with unspeakable want the second he registered your sinful lingerie hugging your body everlastingly bright— his gaze latches onto the gleam of lace, and something in him cracks, fuck, that absurd strip of silk between your thighs must've been the end of him.

he noticed it again, something inside him snaps so quietly yet so instantly— when then, the shock burns away, and in its place grow narrowed eyes, dark with a hunger he couldn't conceal, sharp and resembling a blade being drawn.

caleb doesn't touch you yet, he looks, and it burns, "you think I wouldn't lose my mind the second i saw you like this?" and the question lands awe alike, it's madness with him, truly, caleb feels the tent in his denim grew thicker as his cock urges to get freed.

his hand comes up— two fingers tracing the edge of the sheer fabric, as if testing its durability, it tremors, so faint you'd miss it if you weren't watching him like he's the sun swallowing the world, "you think i don't see what you're doing?" and then his voice folds in on itself, cold and cracked like winter-bled stone, scraped raw at the edges, "dressing like this… for me, for my eyes," as if angered with the strain of not already having you split open under him.

he leans in to wrap his arms around your body, his breath ghosting on your collarbone, not your mouth, not yet, "trying to tempt a man who hasn't even laid his hands on you properly."

he pauses and you felt it— something deep in him unraveling, "you don't know what you've done," and when he finally moves, it's devastating,

you're on the bed before you can breathe, shoved down into the mattress like he cannot bear for there to be even a second more without you beneath him. the sheets twisting under your back, warm and doused from where your skin meets the fabric, soft where his hands are anything but nice.

one hand wrenches your thighs open, rough and eager, spreading you like you're something innocent he's about to defile while the other grips your chin, fingers digging into your jaw, forcing your eyes up to meet his.

"i want you to look at me while i take you apart," he purrs as his mouth meets your skin, not gentle but methodical, his wet muscle drawing heavy circles across your chest, then lower, wetting the sheer lace with spit as he growls, "filthy fucking thing, who told you you were allowed to dress like this unless i told you to?"

you try to answer but he cuts it off with a kiss— filthy, wet, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth until it stings, spit stringing from his tongue to yours when he finally pulls back, his voice quieter now, developing a more dangerous sense.

"this body's mine," he's drilling into you now, slow and brutal between your legs, his cock thick and twitching against the damp heat of your center and whenever he fully sheathed himself inside, caleb made sure to add additional fast n meaty rocks of cock to massage your pretty pussy, his hands forevermore keeping you nice and spread on the bed, "—not to be paraded, not to be touched, not to be looked at unless i allow it."

each word lands with a thrust, his mouth returning to your throat, open, hot, desperate— mouthing filthy praise like reverence fouled by lust, a prayer stitched in sweat and spit, "feel how soaked you are?" his cock fucking the arousal back into your cunt until he sees a faint ring of white sheathed on his length, "you were waiting for this, don't lie, you wanted me to lose control."

and you have him now— his mask shattered, face flushed, hair sticking to his forehead, teeth sinking into your skin with favor as he pulls your legs over his hips and pushes in slowly, watching your face twist and melt around him.

"fuck, you take me so well," he whispers, voice thin with control, every syllable trembling on the edge of collapse, "mineminemine i'll make sure no one can look at you without seeing what i've done."

and when you arch your body into him the moment you feel the bubble inside your belly pop— you scream his name with tears clinging to your lashes as caleb shudders from the way you were constricting around him, milking his cock as he fuck you harder, soon after spilling inside you with a low, wrecked growl, hips still thrusting gently as he whispers, "good, good… so good for me."

he doesn't leave your body instantly, in fact, he doesn't pull out, rather does his forehead drop to your shoulder due to exhaustion, and you feel his breathing rattle through your skin like winter wind, cold and biting.

the quake in caleb's limbs never leave, even as he manages to choke out your name, "next time, i want to pick one out for you, spoil you, buy it and rip it off you again,"

and god, he will.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[navybrat817]

Back It Up

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Thunderbolts!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is hot and fucks like a God.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (m. and f. receiving), dirty talk, flirting, slight feels, possessive behavior, BDE, aftercare mention, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Based on an anon ask. Happy Moanday. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky who is hot and fucks like a God. 

Bucky who is confident again, similar to the swagger he had in the 40’s, but a bit more rough around the edges to add to his appeal.

Bucky who knew you were his the second he laid eyes on you and swears the world is a little brighter when you’re nearby, so he gives you a smile instead of his trademark grumpy stare.

Bucky who also gets hard when you’re close to him and has palmed himself under the table because he so desperately wants to be inside you. 

Bucky who wants you and only you, wants you on your knees for him, wants to get on his knees for you, wants to split you open on his cock and make you scream his name, but wants to tease you first.

Bucky who will run his fingers through his hair or toussle it when you’re in his line of sight because you once said he looked like a fucking prince. “Every prince needs a princess, right? You wanna be my princess?”

Bucky who, whether he’s in his tactical gear or uniform, sees the way you shamelessly check him out and hides his smirk when he “catches” you looking. “Isn’t polite to stare, sweetheart, but you can look all you want.”

Bucky who will purposely walk around in only a pair of low hanging gray sweatpants when he knows it’s just the two of you, unashamed of his body or scars, especially when your pupils dilate with lust. “You know, I almost went with black, but…” he trailed off, arching his back and thrusting his hips forward so you could see the very clear outline of his cock before he left the room.

Bucky who will keep his eyes on you when he eats, letting you see every drag of his tongue and lick of his lips as he savors the taste of his meal. “Bet your pussy tastes like heaven,” he says so low you swear you imagined it.

Bucky who wrapped a hand around your throat once during sparring to see how you’d respond, and he was pleasantly surprised when he heard you whimper and smelled your arousal. “I have something you can really choke on,” he whispered, letting you go and leaving you hot and bothered on the mat.

Bucky who didn’t think taking a jacket off could be sexy until he heard you whisper, “Fuck me”, to which he responded in a low voice full of promise, “Soon.” 

Bucky who likes to think he can dish it as much as he takes it, but nearly busts down your door when he hears you moaning his name and fucking yourself with your fingers. “My dirty girl,” he says fondly, proudly.

Bucky who can’t take it anymore when you’re bent over in front of him, stretching and looking back at him with a smile while his eyes greedily roam your body. “Think you help me stretch, Barnes, or are you all talk?”

Bucky who snapped, tore through your legging and underwear like paper, and put you on all fours. “Oh, I’ll help you stretch,” he promised, breaching your wet heat with a finger and smirking when you tightened around him. “With my tongue and fingers first before you get my cock.”

Bucky who ate you out from behind, his fingers digging into your flesh as you pushed back against his face to feel more of the delicious burn from his salt and pepper scruff. “You really do taste like heaven, sweetheart, but be patient,” he warned, slapping your pussy for good measure. “You’ll get yours and I’ll get mine.”

Bucky who nearly came in his pants when you made a mess all over his face, crying out his name as he kept fucking you with his tongue and fingers and only stopped so he could put you on your back and see your dazed expression. “Good girl screaming my name,” he praised, hearing you whine when he shoved his pants and underwear down. “Do it again when you come on my cock.”

Bucky who let you taste yourself on his tongue before he pushed inside you, both of you moaning at the feeling of being one and him having to stay still for a second at the way you clamp around him like a vice. “Greedy cunt doesn’t want to let me go,” he rasped, and he understood since he didn’t want to leave your body.

Bucky who set a hard, deep pace and alternated between pinning you down and letting you pull his hair and grip his back. “Letting me fuck you bare because you know you’re mine,” he groaned, and he couldn’t wait to paint your walls with his release and really make you his.

Bucky who lightly bit your neck and breasts and touched every inch of you that he could, wanting to leave marks on you, before putting your legs on his shoulders and fucking you like his life depended on it. “Look at me. Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he ordered, wanting to see your face twist in pleasure as you took his cock over and over again.

Bucky who teased your clit and smiled when you keen. “I told you you’ll get yours,” he reminded you when you clenched around him and soaked his cock more. “So scream my name when you come for me.”

Bucky who said your name through his teeth when you screamed his name like a mantra and gushed around him. “Good. Fucking. Girl.” he gritted as he fucked you through it, taking your hand to keep you grounded when he saw the fog in your eyes.

Bucky who couldn’t resist when you begged through your gaze, “Come in me, Bucky.” and roared like an animal with his release, flooding your insides and keeping his hips flush against yours so he didn’t waste a drop. 

Bucky who collapsed on top of you to kiss you again and stayed deep inside you as he thought about how he was going to fuck you all over again. 

Bucky who knew he had his equal when you smiled against his lips and asked, “Think you can make me choke before you fuck me again?” and was torn between pulling out of you and staying nice and deep where he belonged.

Bucky who grudgingly pulled out because he had to see what you looked like with your lips wrapped around him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Choke on me,” he urged when you cleaned off your mixed release with a happy moan and kept your pretty eyes on him.

Bucky who put you on all fours again because he had to finish inside of your dripping cunt. “We’re just getting started,” he promised.

Bucky who didn’t stop until you were a whimpering, boneless mess and carried you to your bathroom after so he could take care of you. “So beautiful. So good for me,” he whispered, praising you because he’s a gentleman at heart and he will give you the aftercare you deserve.

Bucky who held you like something precious and kissed your forehead. “I’ve got you,” he whispered and smiled when you whispered back, “And I’ve got you.”

Bucky who is insatiable, able to sleep easier because you’re in his arms, and happy.

So... yeah. Happy Moanday. Love and thanks for reading!❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[miaoua3]

bitches had a lot to say about scoups’ cute little tummy in the thunder mcountdown performance and it pissed me off, especially because i know for a fact that it affected him a lot since he immediately announced that he was starting a diet. i love his tummy so much and it breaks my heart seeing that he feels insecure about it. so, here is a bit of an appreciation for coups and his little tummy❤️

(pairing: bf! scoups x f!reader)

tw! negative views on body!

the moment he stepped foot inside your shared apartment, you could see that something was wrong with your cheollie.

he had this troubled frown glued to his face, lips set in a sad pout as he quietly took off his shoes and jacket.

when you tried greeting him somewhat enthusiastically, he weirdly turned you down, instead of kissing your lips like he always does, his lips landed on your cheek, before he quietly excuses himself to take a shower.

which is even weirder, because cheol always eats first before he takes a shower. he always says that he feels bad that he keeps you waiting so much, preventing you from eating the dinner because you don’t like eating alone.

so, for him to turn down dinner, to barely say anything to you, to immediately cut himself out of the world by going to the bathroom?

you knew that something bad has happened.

carefully listening against the door, you waited until you heard the water turn off, giving him another minute to dry off and put something on.

you two had so much trust in each other that cheol didn’t even blink when the doors opened, your head peaking inside.

the scene in front of you broke your heart.

cheol, in his beautiful and buff form, was silently standing in front of a mirror, eyes filled with annoyance and…hatred clearly focused on one thing.

his belly.

unsure hands hovered above the said tummy kind or like he was so disgusted with himself that he couldn’t even bring himself to touch you.

you eyebrows immediately furrowed in pain, almost like it was his own pain that you were feeling inside your body.

quietly walking in and shutting the door, you walked over to him, his broad body covering your whole body, making you unable to see yourself in the reflection.

you loved that so much-that he was so soft, big, buff and strong. his body, just like his soul, was hardness covered with a layer of softness. you loved hugging him because it always felt like you had your own personal teddy bear to cuddle with.

although you may not be able to read minds, you can tell what cheol is thinking about.

and just like you predicted, he quietly says with a voice full of disgust “don’t look at me please. i look…so disgusting.”

deciding to ignore his words, your arms wrap themselves around his waist, head securely resting on his back between his shoulder blades. you inhale his fresh scent as you close your eyes.

ever so slowly, you touch his tummy with flat hands, softly rubbing it up and down in comfort.

with a serious voice you question him.

“do you know why i love you so much?”

cheol stays quiet.

you decide to continue.

“you have the softest soul ever. although you always try to stay strong for other’s, you never hid the fact how gentle your soul is. from the very beginning, you let me see your bad, fearful and broken pieces. i knew from there on, that your heart is made of glass-it’s enough to use only small amount of force for it to break.”

you feel cheol swallow under your cheek.

“so, i know how easy other people’s opinions affect you. i know that if it’s something you already dislike about yourself, and they say something bad about that part of you, that you will immediately start hating yourself.”

you pause for a second to swallow before you continue.

“what i don’t get is how anyone-you included-could hate any part of you when you are the most beautiful man ever? you…you are so kind, protective of the people you love. you always face everything with fierceness, even when you yourself are scared of it. not only are you beautiful from the inside, but you, exactly as you are right now, are just as beautiful from the outside.”

cheol feels a something heavy stop in his throat, his eyes that are looking back at him in the mirror now filled with unshed tears.

“your body is so beautiful, baby. it’s strong…firm in a way that it makes you feel…reliable. almost as if i am protected simply because you are so strong. but it’s also wrapped with a layer of…softness. which isn’t a bad thing. it just makes cuddling and kissing it that much more enjoyable. this little tummy? that’s my favourite part of you. wanna know why?”

you see cheol nod his head as he uses one of his hands to wipe away the tears, deeply sniffling as he does so.

you use your hold on his tummy to slowly turn him around, his red eyes looking at you brokenly.

pushing away his hands, you wipe away his tears, smiling gently as you end your words.

“because that tummy exists because of me. because you let me take care of you. because i make sure to feed you well. that tummy that you were just thinking of getting rid of? that’s my love coming to the surface.”

cheol closes his eyes, shoulders shaking as he cries quietly.

even quieter than you have been talking just now, you gently yet firmly ask him.

“do you want to get rid of my love then?”

shaking his head ‘no’, he finally-finally-lets a son out, strong arms wrapping around your body as he lets his head hide in your neck, wetness smearing against your skin as his tears keep on falling.

as you rub his back in comfort, you promise to yourself one thing.

i will never allow him to feel or think about himself like this ever again. not when he’s the most perfect person to have ever existed.

[ravencromwell]

I have to add Archivist Wasp and its sequel Latchkey by Nicole Kornher-Stace. (Both those links lead to Weightless Books, an arm of the incomparable Small Beer Press that sells drm-free versions of numerous small presses' books for ease of reading and to avoid the amazon monster; to tout the awesome of Small Beer and Mythic Delirium, both primarily responsbiel for publishing Kornher-Stace would be a post of its own, but look them up if you're unfamiliar because they've provided some of the most envelope-pushing, queer-heavy scifi of the last decade.) Archivist Wasp is in the "destroyed earth" rather than the space category of scifi and...well, Amal El Mohtar can sell it better than I ever could:

An Archivist has two jobs. The first is to hunt and catch ghosts in order to learn about the precataclysm past from them; the second is to defend her life and position against “upstarts” — the other girls marked by the goddess Catchkeep’s claw-shaped scars at birth — once a year. Wasp has been Archivist for three years, and wants nothing more than to escape a dismal life of killing her sisters and obeying the Catchkeep-priest — so when an unusually powerful ghost asks her to help find his former partner in the underworld, she agrees. But, as is so often the case with the underworld, she finds both more and less than she bargained for. More than anything else, this book is sharp. You could cut yourself on the prose — Wasp’s world is one of thorns, knives, edges of thick, broken glass, a constant background-hum of pain that sometimes swells into a shout. Wasp’s perspective absolutely thrums with tension and violence, but also aches with a fierce, hollow loneliness to break the heart. The longing and gratitude for the smallest beginnings of true friendship make the betrayals more vicious, and the stakes just keep rising. I burned through this book in about three hours, desperately rooting for her. It’s also a brilliantly constructed narrative and world. The gods are cruel and absent. The underworld is a maze in layers, a twisting, turning palimpsest, one that allows Wasp to descend almost archaeologically through time by literally experiencing her ghost-partner’s memories. The pre- and post-apocalyptic worlds reflect each other in shards and fragments, all the more powerful for being subtle, for their resistance to being spelled out. It was also keenly refreshing — especially in something that’s ostensibly YA, where the Love Triangle of Doom is so annoyingly pervasive — to find a book in which all of the strongest, primary relationships are friendships; where friendship has the narrative, motive force usually reserved for sexualized romance. I very much wanted to see the A in QUILTBAG represented in this column, and this is a fine example: while the connection between the ghost and his (female) partner is intense and loving, it is never represented as sexual, and sex is in fact completely irrelevant.

Sci-fi books where a queer woman has the ghost of an annoying dead guy in her head

*Misery is nonbinary (she/they) and who’s in her head is not dead or a guy but I’m counting it, okay