#wanted to work up the nerve to fire these out

[thebonesofhoudini]

Signalgate/Whiskeyleaks is a prime example of how much America hates Black People. Especially Black Men.

Black Men are the last to be hired and the first to be fired. Black Men lead the workforce in unemployment rates. The higher up in corporate America you go, the less Black Men you see. Studies show that a Black Man with no criminal record and a college/university degree fares no better in the workforce than a White Man with a criminal record and a high school diploma. And there's a segment of Black Men that have been damn near shut out of everyday life due to unemployment and incarceration.

This is the result of systemic and institutional racism. It's not cause Black Men "don't want to work", it's cause racists don't want to hire them.

So when a Black Man like Lloyd Austin has to work twice as hard to be considered half as good as his White counterparts to be in that position, weak racist White Men like Pete Hegseth (who are only there due to unearned privilege) say they don't deserve to be there and only White Men deserve to be in that spot. Regardless of how unqualified they are.

And then they'll have the absolute nerve to say that planes are falling out of the sky cause of DEI and Black pilots and not from their own incompetence. The classic "when all else fails, blame Black People" excuse.

But ofcourse, Tumblr doesn't care about the plight of Black Men in the workforce cause the majority of Tumblr is white and employed and could care less about their struggles in a racist society.

🎯💯🚨🔥

Hegseth acted like an angry cheating drunk, never took responsibility, attacked Jeffrey Goldberg, and then went on a gaslighting tirade.

Lloyd Austin ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ was hired by Biden because of merit.

Hegseth 🤡 was hired by First Felon because of skin color.

[winterislife]

The Battle of Hearts

Pairing: Karina x fem reader

Genre: enemies to lovers (kinda bad)

Words: 1.6k

A/N: hello I'm just new to tumblr so idk how to arrange this hehe and also I'm just a beginner in writing so feel free not to read and you guys can also give me tips to Improve it😊

---

Y/N had always prided herself on being the best. No one in her school had ever challenged her until Karina came along.

It wasn’t that Y/N was unintelligent—far from it. She was fierce, sharp-tongued, and always one step ahead of everyone else in every subject. But, no matter how hard she pushed herself, she always ended up second to Karina. It burned in her chest like a constant, unshakable fire.

Karina was tall, striking, with a brilliance that matched her looks. She was everything Y/N wasn’t. Where Y/N was all attitude, Karina was poised. Where Y/N’s talent was hidden beneath layers of snark and stubbornness, Karina’s intelligence shone through effortlessly. And, to add insult to injury, Karina was popular, the one everyone admired, the one everyone wanted to be.

Y/N hated it. She hated Karina.

It wasn’t just the grades, either. Karina’s mere presence in the classroom sent ripples through Y/N’s usually unwavering confidence. Karina's smile, effortlessly warm and disarming, made Y/N want to scream every time it flashed in her direction.

Y/N gritted her teeth as she walked into class, her gaze instinctively landing on Karina, who sat at the front, reading a book as usual. Karina didn’t even glance up. It only irritated Y/N more.

"Good morning, Y/N," Karina’s voice drifted through the air like a soft melody. Y/N couldn’t understand why it always grated on her nerves.

"Good morning," Y/N replied curtly, though she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She couldn’t care less about Karina’s fake sweetness.

Y/N’s hands tightened around her books as she made her way to her seat. Every class with Karina was a game of nerves. Every time she was just slightly behind, it gnawed at her.

Karina, as usual, breezed through the lesson with ease, answering the teacher's questions before anyone else could even raise their hand. Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Show-off", she thought bitterly.

But it wasn’t just Karina’s academic brilliance that made Y/N so bitter. No, it was something more. Something that she’d never admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Karina’s beauty, her effortless grace—it made Y/N feel small, inadequate.

Still, Y/N couldn't let herself back down. She couldn’t afford to lose to Karina. Not when everything she had worked for was on the line.

If she thinks she's going to stay at the top, she’s got another thing coming, Y/N thought.

---

Days passed, and the rivalry between Y/N and Karina only grew more intense. Every test, every presentation, every little moment in the classroom felt like another battle to be won. Y/N didn’t back down—she never did. Her fierce determination kept her fighting for that top spot, no matter how many times she lost to Karina.

Yet, over time, something strange began to happen. The biting tension between them shifted, subtly at first, but unmistakably. Karina started to look at Y/N in ways that she hadn’t before. Sometimes, when they crossed paths in the hallways, Y/N would catch her watching, those sharp, intelligent eyes narrowing in a way that made her pulse quicken, even though she refused to admit it.

One day after class, as Y/N grabbed her bag, preparing to rush out of the room to avoid another “friendly” interaction with Karina, she was stopped.

“Y/N,” Karina’s voice rang out.

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. "Not again," she thought.

“What do you want, Karina?” Y/N’s voice was curt, defensive, but there was a slight tremor in it that she couldn't hide.

Karina stood at the front of the class, her gaze soft but unwavering. Her usual confident demeanor had a hint of something else—something Y/N couldn’t quite place. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Y/N shot her a skeptical glance. “About what?”

“About... us,” Karina said, taking a step closer.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest. "Us? There’s no ‘us,’" she thought, though the idea gnawed at her.

“What’s there to talk about?” Y/N snapped, but her bravado was starting to crack under the intensity of Karina’s gaze.

Karina smiled softly, a gentle curve of her lips that made Y/N’s stomach twist in unexpected ways. “You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you sure don’t see a lot of things right in front of you.”

Y/N blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Karina’s smile faltered just a bit, as if she was debating how much to reveal. “You’re not as invisible as you think you are,” she said quietly. “I’ve noticed you. More than you realize.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re just trying to get under my skin again. It’s not going to work.”

But Karina wasn’t backing down. She took another step closer, her presence filling the space between them in a way that left Y/N’s pulse racing. “I think I’ve been getting under your skin for a while now.”

The words hung in the air, charged with an energy neither of them could deny. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. Was Karina saying what she thought she was saying?

“Are you—” Y/N started, but Karina interrupted her with a shake of her head.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Karina said softly. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now. I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N’s mind was racing, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. She wanted to lash out, to argue, but instead, something held her back. Something about the sincerity in Karina’s voice, the way she looked at her, made her hesitate.

“You’re… not mad at me anymore?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t know why she cared, but she did. She couldn’t ignore it.

Karina’s expression softened even more. “No, Y/N. I’m not mad at you. I never really was. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. This wasn’t how she thought things would go. She had spent so much time despising Karina, focusing on her as the enemy, that she hadn’t realized just how much she had come to depend on her presence—her every move. Her words, her smile, everything about Karina now felt like a part of the puzzle that was her life, a puzzle Y/N had spent too long trying to ignore.

Before she could speak, Karina’s hand brushed lightly against hers, the touch soft and fleeting, but it was enough to send a shockwave through Y/N.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Karina added quietly. “But just think about it, okay?”

Y/N swallowed, staring at their hands for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Karina’s. Her heart was in her throat, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t have the words to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Y/N muttered, feeling strangely vulnerable. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of Karina’s presence in a way she never had before.

As Y/N walked out of the classroom, her mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t admit it—not to herself, not to anyone—but for the first time, she felt something other than disdain for Karina. Something unfamiliar, and maybe, just maybe, something a little dangerous.

---

The days after that conversation with Karina left Y/N in a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn’t escape the thoughts of Karina, not completely. Every time she closed her eyes, Karina’s smile flashed before her. Every time they passed each other in the hallway, Y/N felt the same strange sensation—the flutter in her chest, the way her pulse seemed to race when their eyes met. It was disorienting, and for the first time, it was all Y/N could do to keep her composure.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit to herself what was happening.

It wasn’t just that Karina was brilliant, beautiful, and graceful. It wasn’t even that Karina was starting to see past Y/N’s tough exterior, to the person she’d spent so long hiding. No, it was deeper than that. The truth was undeniable, and yet, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to confront it.

"I don’t like her," Y/N told herself over and over, though the words felt empty and hollow each time. "I can’t like her. Not Karina."

But the more she tried to push those thoughts aside, the stronger they became.

The following week, Y/N found herself in the school library, desperately trying to focus on her studies, but her thoughts kept drifting. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Karina had looked at her when she said she wanted to get to know her better. The softness in her eyes, the vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

"She’s just playing games," Y/N tried to convince herself. "She’s just trying to mess with me. She’s always been so... perfect, and I’ve always been the one who had to fight for everything. There’s no way she could actually like me."

Yet, every time she thought about Karina’s words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more there. Karina had said it herself: "I just want to get to know you better." What did that mean? Was she really interested in Y/N? Or was this just another one of her attempts to get under Y/N’s skin, to show that she was untouchable, to play with her emotions like a cat with a mouse?

But no matter how much Y/N tried to deny it, she couldn’t stop wondering if Karina was being honest. And that, more than anything, unsettled her.

“Y/N?”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Karina standing at the entrance of the library, a hesitant expression on her face.

“Uh, hey, Karina,” Y/N muttered, her heart racing despite herself. She quickly shoved her textbook aside, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Karina said, her voice soft and unassuming. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning the bookshelves as if she were looking for something.

“No, it’s fine,” Y/N replied, forcing a casual tone into her voice. She leaned back in her chair, trying to appear nonchalant, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

Karina paused for a moment, then sat down across from Y/N at the table, her movements graceful and deliberate. She looked up at Y/N with a soft smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to study together for the upcoming test. I mean, we’re both at the top of the class, right? Might as well make the most of it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, still trying to keep her cool. "Why is she doing this?"

“Sure,” Y/N said, not wanting to appear too eager to spend time with Karina, even though every part of her was screaming to do just that. “But don’t think I’m going easy on you. You might be the top of the class, but I’m still right behind you.”

Karina chuckled softly, her laughter light and melodic. “I wouldn’t expect you to. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile in return, though she quickly wiped it away, reminding herself that this was still a competition. She had to keep her guard up. "No feelings. No distractions."

The two of them spent the next hour studying in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages and the occasional tap of a pencil. But even in this quiet space, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced every time Karina looked at her, or how every brush of their hands or shared glance sent a jolt of warmth through her.

"Focus," Y/N told herself. "You’re here to study, nothing more."

But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the pull between them. The way Karina would glance at her over the top of her book, the way she would smile whenever Y/N got something right, her eyes lighting up with genuine pride. Karina was warm and attentive in ways Y/N had never expected.

And the worst part? Y/N was starting to enjoy it. More than she should.

“Y/N,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence. Y/N looked up, startled.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re a lot more than just the ‘second top student,’” Karina said, her voice serious now. There was no hint of teasing, just a quiet sincerity that Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from her.

Y/N blinked, unsure of how to respond. Her throat felt tight. "She’s looking at me like..."

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, her voice hoarse despite her best efforts to sound normal.

Karina didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Y/N, her expression unreadable. Then, as if making up her mind, she leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, you’re smart, yes. Fierce, yes. But there’s so much more to you, Y/N. You don’t have to keep pretending that you’re just the tough girl who doesn’t care. I see through that.”

Y/N froze. She had no words. The way Karina was looking at her... it was as if she could see straight through the walls Y/N had built around herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N muttered, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. She clenched her fists under the table, trying to fight the heat rising in her chest.

“I think you do,” Karina said softly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s with a knowing intensity. “But I’m not going to push you. Not now. I just want you to know that I’m not the enemy here, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Her emotions were all over the place—confusion, fear, desire, and something else she couldn’t name. She looked away, unable to meet Karina’s gaze anymore.

"What do I even feel?" Y/N thought, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. She didn’t want to like Karina, didn’t want to admit how much she was drawn to her. But the more Karina’s words echoed in her mind, the more Y/N realized that the lines between hatred and attraction were starting to blur.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N whispered, more to herself than to Karina.

Karina smiled softly, and for the first time, Y/N didn’t feel the need to push it away.

---

The following day, Y/N couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Karina. Every time she tried to focus on anything, her mind kept circling back to those soft words Karina had said, the way her gaze lingered on her, the warmth in her voice when she spoke.

It was maddening.

Y/N tried to convince herself that she was just overthinking it. Karina was a flirt, right? It was just a game for her. After all, she had everything—brains, beauty, popularity. Why would someone like Karina be interested in someone like Y/N, who was always second-best, always fighting for attention?

"She’s just messing with me," Y/N thought bitterly. "It’s a game, and I’m not going to play along."

But despite all the arguments swirling in her mind, there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of what Karina had said: "I’m not the enemy here, Y/N."

Y/N tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at her like a splinter she couldn’t pull out. Her chest tightened every time she thought about Karina’s soft smile, the warmth in her eyes.

That afternoon, as Y/N walked down the hallway, she spotted Karina by her locker, laughing with a group of friends. The sight made Y/N’s heart skip a beat, but it also triggered something else—a spike of irritation that had been building since the day before.

Without thinking, Y/N marched up to her, her steps quick and purposeful.

“Karina!” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the hallway.

Karina looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I’m done with this, Karina,” she said, her voice loud enough that it turned heads. “Stop playing your little games. I’m not some toy for you to mess with. I get it, okay? You think it’s funny, seeing me squirm, but I’m not falling for it.”

The hallway fell into a tense silence as people turned to watch the scene unfold. Karina stood frozen, her smile faltering, her friends exchanging confused glances.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Karina said, her voice softer now, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “I’m not playing any games. I don’t—”

“Don’t give me that!” Y/N cut her off, her emotions spilling over like a dam breaking. “You act like you’re interested, like you care, but I know better. You’ve probably got some bet or something with your friends to see how far you can go. But I’m not stupid. I’m done being your plaything, Karina.”

Karina’s eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, Y/N saw something there—something vulnerable, something raw. But Y/N didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to feel the pang of regret starting to form in her chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not playing with you. I never was.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping back. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not falling for it anymore.” She turned on her heel, walking away, leaving Karina standing there, looking bewildered and hurt.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she was outside, standing in the cold air, trying to steady her breath. The rush of adrenaline had started to fade, and now all she felt was an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"What did I just do?" Y/N thought, her heart pounding in her chest. "I shouldn’t have yelled at her like that. What if I was wrong? What if…"

But the more she thought about it, the more her anger flared again. She couldn’t help it. The idea of Karina playing with her emotions, of pretending to care just to mess with her, felt like a betrayal. Y/N hated feeling vulnerable, hated the idea of letting someone in only to be hurt.

But there was another voice, quieter and more persistent, that refused to be silenced. "What if Karina wasn’t playing a game? What if you’re just too scared to admit the truth?"

Y/N clenched her fists. "No. It’s easier to hate her. It’s easier to believe she’s just playing with me."

---

Later that day, Y/N was in the library, trying to drown out the guilt and confusion with more studying. She had her books open in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to Karina. The way she had looked at her, her hurt expression, the way she hadn’t even tried to defend herself when Y/N accused her of playing games.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/N.”

She turned quickly, expecting to see one of her classmates, but instead, it was Karina. She was standing at the entrance of the library, looking hesitant, her expression soft and earnest. There was no hint of a game in her eyes, no teasing smile. Just… sincerity.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, her voice more defensive than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Karina here, after everything that had happened, made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

“I just… I need you to understand,” Karina said, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m not playing with you, Y/N. I never was. I don’t know how to make you see that, but I can’t just let you walk away thinking that.”

Y/N stared at her, her emotions in turmoil. "Why does she look so… hurt?" Her heart clenched at the sight of Karina standing there, clearly torn.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “I thought… I thought you were just messing with me. I thought you were playing some kind of game, like everyone else.”

Karina’s expression softened, and she took another step closer. “I’m not like everyone else, Y/N. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never did. But I think you’re afraid to let someone care about you. And I get it. I do. I’ve seen how hard you fight to keep everyone at a distance. But I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to be close to you. To let you know that you don’t have to keep fighting alone.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her chest. Karina’s words were like a punch to the gut—soft, honest, and real. It was everything Y/N had been too afraid to admit, even to herself. The truth that had been lingering in her chest for weeks.

"Could it really be true?"

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to untangle the mess of feelings inside her. The only thing she knew for sure was that, no matter how hard she fought it, something between her and Karina was changing.

Something "real".

---

The days after the confrontation were some of the hardest for Y/N. Every time she saw Karina in the halls or in class, the weight of what she had said—the way she had yelled at her, accused her—gnawed at her insides. She tried to keep her distance, pretending that everything was fine, but every time she looked at Karina, she felt a pang of guilt that she couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the way she had yelled at Karina. It was the realization that she had been wrong. That Karina wasn’t playing some cruel game. She wasn’t toying with Y/N’s feelings for fun. Karina had been honest with her, vulnerable in a way Y/N had never expected.

And now Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore—couldn’t ignore the way her heart fluttered every time Karina smiled at her, the way her thoughts had drifted toward Karina more and more each day.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper. Something she had been too scared to admit.

I like her. I like Karina.

That thought had been haunting her for days, and Y/N couldn’t run from it any longer. She had to make things right. She had to apologize.

It was after school when Y/N finally found the courage to confront Karina. She spotted her walking toward the gates of the school, her long hair swaying gently behind her, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. What if Karina didn’t want to hear it? What if she was angry with her?

"No. You need to apologize," Y/N thought firmly. "This isn’t about pride anymore."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked briskly toward Karina. The moment Karina saw her, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stopped walking, waiting for Y/N to catch up.

“Karina,” Y/N called out, her voice shaky but determined. “Can we talk?”

Karina hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression softening. “Of course. What’s up?”

Y/N’s heart raced as she took a few steps closer, standing in front of Karina. The words she had rehearsed in her mind seemed to disappear as soon as she opened her mouth.

“I… I owe you an apology,” Y/N started, her voice low. She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Karina blinked, clearly surprised. “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize. I understand why you were upset. I should’ve explained things better.”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “It wasn’t just that. I was… I was angry at myself. And at you, but it wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N felt her chest tighten, the vulnerability of the moment overwhelming her.

“Y/N,” Karina said gently, her voice softer than usual, “It’s okay. Really. I know I made you feel like I was playing with you, and I never meant to make you feel that way. But… I’m not playing games. I’m not that person.”

Y/N finally looked up, meeting Karina’s gaze. There was no anger there, only understanding. Karina wasn’t holding onto the past anymore. But Y/N still had more to say.

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, her heart pounding. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, you. I’ve been acting like an idiot because I didn’t want to admit that I… that I like you.”

Karina’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought she had said the wrong thing, that she had made things even more awkward. But then, Karina’s smile widened, and her expression softened.

“You like me?” Karina repeated softly, as if testing the words on her own lips.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. “Yeah. I do. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself that it was just some stupid rivalry, but it’s more than that. I’ve been… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Karina asked gently, taking a small step forward, her voice full of warmth.

“Scared of being vulnerable,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of letting someone in. Scared of what liking you means. I’ve always fought to be the best, to not need anyone, and now… now I’m realizing that maybe I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Karina’s eyes softened even further, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand in a gesture that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“I’m glad you’re being honest with me,” Karina said softly, her voice full of tenderness. “I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m glad you’re letting me in.”

Y/N took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to feel the relief that came with letting go of the fear that had been holding her back for so long. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Karina said with a teasing smile, but there was no malice behind her words. “But I’m willing to forgive you.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the tension in her body slowly melting away. “You’re too nice to me.”

Karina shrugged playfully. “I’m not perfect. But I like you, too, Y/N. I think you’re amazing. You’re fierce and smart, and I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, the truth between them now out in the open.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Y/N whispered, looking at Karina, her voice full of sincerity. “Not with you. Not if you don’t want to fight, either.”

Karina’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with something that made Y/N’s chest feel tight. “I don’t want to fight anymore either.”

There was a brief, beautiful silence between them before Karina stepped closer, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand once more. “So... where do we go from here?”

Y/N hesitated for just a moment, her heart racing, before she finally allowed herself to answer, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Wherever you want to go.”

And with that, the walls that had once separated them—walls built on rivalry, fear, and confusion—came crashing down. The tension that had once been so suffocating now felt lighter, more hopeful. Karina was no longer just the girl who had been the object of Y/N’s rivalry. She was someone Y/N wanted to be close to.

Someone Y/N finally allowed herself to care for.

---

[venusentranced]

THE JONGHO ONE OMG. I’m on the floor. I’m gasping for air. You’re doing great. 🥹

I loved the bit about him not being very vocal but when he does moan it’s angelic. Could I possibly request a fic where the reader is overstimming him and soothing him through it with lots of praise? And he gradually has a holder time holding back his moans throughout the fic. 👉👈

‧₊˚ ┊i’m a month late but i will always come back to you! it’s a short drabble because i’ve been super busy + had writers block on and off which has made it a little difficult but i would never leave you hanging (i did not proofread again)

jongho’s upper body rests against the headboard, staring at you with glassy eyes and wet lips. your hand is wrapped tightly around the base of his dick, slowly but deliberately stroking his through to his second orgasm. a whimper escapes him at the feeling, his skin is covered in a sticky sheen, a mixture of cum, spit and precum makes him perfectly slick for your hand to work him until he’s singing like a song bird. you lean forward, kissing his soft lips which distracts him just long enough for you to squeeze his tip and gently press your thumb into his slit. a gasp breaks your kiss and you laugh softly at his immediate reaction, he whines at the slight pain before slowly melting back into the pleasure of the stimulation. his hand reaches out to grab your wrist, “i’m close…” he whispers. a barely audible hum vibrates through your chest, your pace speeding up to push him over the edge; his eyes screw shut, his hand flying to cover his mouth with a subtle slap. his body shakes and he slides down the bed a bit, not getting very far with you between his legs. white string rope out of him, dribbling down your hand and to his thighs. when his cum stops flowing you twist your wrist once more, making your way back up to the head of his cock to spread the fluid all over again. “no it’s too much!” he yelps, sitting up abruptly and looking down at your hand. you smile innocently at him, kissing his cheek while you continue the motion. “i just want to hear your pretty voice, baby.” your voice is calm and full of adoration, watching him slowly fall back against the pillows and headboard. you don’t often push jongho which is why he gives in with no fight, allowing you to stroke and squeeze his sensitive or overstimulated dick despite the fact that it’s starting to hurt a bit. a few small gasps and whimpers run away from him in the beginning, gradually going up in volume as his nerves start to feel like they’re on fire and whimpers turn to whines until eventually… “ah!” a shaky moan rakes its way through him. “oh, there you go!” you encourage, basking in the sounds that continue to spill out of him like a broken water fountain. you kiss his jaw and neck, adding a bit more pleasure to help get him back to the edge of bliss. his ‘mm’s and ‘ah’s get progressively louder until he’s moaning your name. the third orgasm absolutely wrecks him, his body shakes and his skin turns red from the temperature, his whimpers go from pleasured to pained when your hand isn’t immediately removed. “you’re such a good boy,” you praise, moving your hand to his thigh and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “you did so good, thank you for letting me hear you.” your continued adoration and affection earns a weak smile from the boy, he pulls you in for a hug and melts into your touch.

[yena-enha]

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 - 𝐏𝐒𝐇

Warning - Rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, degradation, choking, possessiveness, obsessive behavior, bruising, unsafe sex, car sex, power play, primal aggression, toxic relationship dynamics.

Note - MDNI (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), Interact At Your Own Risk, NSFW Content

Genre - Smut, Dark Romance, Rivalry, Angst

Pairing - Top IllegalRacer!Sunghoon × Top IllegalRacer!FemReader

Inspiration - Teeth By 5SOS

Word Count - 1.8k words

The underground racing scene was a beast of its own—dark, chaotic, and thrumming with danger. The air reeked of gasoline and burning rubber, the roar of engines so deafening it rattled the pavement beneath your feet.

And in the heart of it all, you stood across from Park Sunghoon.

Your rival. Your obsession. The only one who had ever come close to matching you on the streets.

His gaze was razor-sharp, cutting through the thick tension between you. ��Think you can actually beat me tonight, sweetheart?” he taunted, voice dripping with smug confidence.

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned against your car. “Please. Try to keep up.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, but his eyes burned with something darker—something dangerous.

The countdown began. The crowd roared.

Three… Two… One…

Engines screamed as you both launched forward, tearing through the streets, weaving between traffic like you were untouchable. The race was too close—too intense. Sunghoon’s car clung to yours, neither of you willing to back down, both of you pushing past every limit.

Then—

A sharp turn. A split-second miscalculation.

Your tires screeched as your car skidded violently, stopping mere inches from a barricade.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, adrenaline surging as you fumbled to rip off your seatbelt—only for your door to be wrenched open.

Sunghoon was there.

His grip was bruising as he dragged you out, shoving you against the car with a force that stole your breath. His jaw was tight, eyes blazing—furious, feral.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he bit out, his voice raw with anger.

You met his glare, breathless. “I had it under control.”

“The hell you did.” His fingers locked around your wrists, pinning them above your head, his body pressing flush against yours. “You could’ve fucking died.”

Something electric crackled between you—sharp, intoxicating. His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was raw. Punishing. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, tongues battling for dominance.

Sunghoon growled into your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip before yanking your head back by your hair. “You like playing reckless, huh?” he rasped. “Let’s see if you can handle me.”

His hands were rough, yanking your jacket off and tossing it aside. He didn’t hesitate—fingers working the buttons of your jeans, dragging them down with force.

“You want this?” he asked, his voice edged with the control he was barely holding onto.

Your pulse thundered, every nerve in your body on fire. “Yes.”

That was all he needed.

Sunghoon spun you around, pressing your front against the hood of your car. One hand pushed between your shoulder blades, keeping you in place, while the other slipped between your legs.

“Already so fucking wet for me,” he muttered, sliding his fingers through your slick folds before shoving two inside without warning.

A gasp tore from your throat, but he didn’t let up. His fingers pumped into you relentlessly, curling just right, his thumb flicking over your clit in sharp, teasing strokes.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against your ear. “Being bent over like this. Being fucked like you belong to me.”

A moan spilled from your lips as you tried to grind back against his hand, but his grip on your hip was unforgiving.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice dark with authority.

Then he pulled his fingers out, shoving them past your lips. “Suck.”

You obeyed. Tasted yourself on his skin, your eyes locked onto his as he watched you with something possessive, something primal.

Then—the sharp crack of his palm against your ass.

You gasped.

“Count,” he commanded.

“One.”

Another slap. Harder.

“Two.”

By the third, your legs were trembling, heat coiling low in your stomach.

Then—without warning—he pushed inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping against your shoulder. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

You barely had time to adjust before he set a brutal pace, slamming into you with deep, punishing thrusts. The car rocked with the force, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathless moans filling the night air.

Sunghoon was relentless. One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to feel every inch of him stretching you open.

“This what you needed, baby?” he growled. “To be fucked into submission?”

You couldn’t speak—could only whimper as he pounded into you, each thrust harder, deeper, staking his claim.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice thick with dominance.

“Yes,” you gasped, nails clawing at the metal beneath you. “I needed this. I needed you.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest. His grip tightened as he leaned in, teeth grazing your shoulder before biting down—hard. “Good fucking girl.”

His fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh, deliberate circles, sending shockwaves through your body. The pleasure coiled tight, burning, building—until it snapped.

You came hard, body convulsing, walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper. Sunghoon cursed, his thrusts growing erratic before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a low, shuddering groan.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Your body was spent, trembling, but Sunghoon didn’t let go.

Slowly, he turned you around, tilting your chin up, brushing his lips over yours in a slow, lingering kiss. “Next time,” he murmured, voice dark with promise, “you don’t run from me.”

Your breath hitched as he smirked, dragging his thumb over your swollen lips.

“This isn’t over, sweetheart.”

When love was obsessive, dangerous, and all-consuming—

Sunghoon’s love had teeth.

«Masterlist || Introduction»

[arcadia-smith]

MDNI, 18+, smut with no plot really, dinner's served.

Simon Riley Fem!Reader.

Just imagine. Simon did something shitty, probably something reckless during a mission. Price had called you and your heart stopped the minute you saw his name light up your phone.

Simon spent like two days in hospital, before coming back home.

And you're pissed. Like really pissed at him for not thinking about anything else bit the adrenaline rush during the mission.

So now you're in your shared bedroom, staring him down after giving him an hour long lecture.

"You're full of shit. And you're gonna have to get on your knees and beg." You finished of your rumbling.

Simon smirked. "The only time I get on my knees is to shoot or to..."

He leaned in, towering over you, his breath warm against your ear.

"Well, you know."

Oh.

Your mouth had gone dry, and he saw it—he felt it in the way your body tensed, the way your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out.

And then—

He dropped.

Slow. Purposeful. A show of control, not submission, hands settling on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to keep you still.

"Still think I'm full of shit?" he murmured.

Your heart pounded, your pulse a wild, erratic thing.

"Prove me wrong," you whispered.

And oh, he would.

He didn’t waste any more time. His hands gripped the waistband of your underwear and yanked it down, his mouth immediately following the path, dragging heat and sensation along your skin with every move. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips as he pulled you closer, his lips trailing scorching kisses down your inner thigh.

“I hope you’re ready for this. I don’t do things halfway.”

Before you could respond, his lips were there, pressing a soft kiss against your clit, the sensation so unexpected it made your body jerk in surprise.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as your legs threatened to give out.

He didn’t stop there. His mouth worked against you with skill and precision, his tongue flicking over you with just the right pressure, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

You moaned, your head tipping back as your grip on his shoulders tightened.

He pulled away just long enough to give you a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in the way you were reacting to him. “You like that?”

You could barely manage a nod, and just like that, he was back at it, his mouth once again on you, more intense than before. His hands held you steady, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, as he brought you to the edge.

Every flick of his tongue, every deep kiss, every movement felt like fire, like something that couldn’t be stopped, something you couldn’t get enough of. You could feel yourself tightening, your body coiling like a spring, ready to snap at any moment.

He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating through you before his mouth moved with an unrelenting pace, pushing you toward that breaking point. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation as you neared the edge.

And then, with one last flick of his tongue, you shattered, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried out his name, your legs trembling as the world seemed to spin around you.

He didn’t stop, though. He held you through it, his tongue continuing to work you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from your body until you were left breathless, shuddering in his arms.

When he finally pulled away, you were barely able to stand, your legs weak beneath you.

All the anger and tention was gone from your body.

"That's my lovely girl." He hummed as he licked your juices off his lips.

Oh, he is a bastard.

[foreverromanticising]

this december - ln4

in which, lando is no master of loneliness and simply needs you with him whenever he can get you. (inspired by this december - ricky montgomery)

wc - 2k

Abu Dhabi was always going to be a special grand prix even if Mclaren hadn’t won the constructors’ championship; with it being the last race of the season and all - the last race of the season your Lando had achieved his first win and entered a title fight within. But, it definitely made it much sweeter that the team had won. You always had a gut feeling Mclaren had this win in their bag, whether it be a bias for your boyfriend or a true instinct, you hadn’t felt any anxieties leading up to this weeked.

However, the same couldn’t be said for Lando. 

Anxiety wasn’t a foreign thing to the boy, he was well accustomed to nights filled with shallow breaths and panic attacks. Of course, it helped when you were able to lay beside him with your head on his chest as the warmth of your body was enough to calm the storm that brewed in his mind as soon as the sun would set. But you couldn’t be with him every night. You had your own life, your own commitments that didn’t involve him, and God forbid he ever ask you to put your own life on hold just so he could feel you in his arms to calm his own head.

Monaco wasn’t known for being cold but in December without you crowding into Lando’s personal space, he had never felt colder. Your mood rubbed off on his, your positivity and cheeriness warmed his heart more than the sun in a Monegasque July ever could. Feeling lonely was a feeling Lando wasn’t particularly acquainted with - sure he had been alone and on his own a plethora of times before - but when he knew he wouldn’t come home to you in his apartment, he had a feeling of perpetual loneliness linger throughout his days. Some would call him codependent but he would argue he was simply in love.

In the weeks leading up to the closing race of the season, Lando had confessed how he was truly feeling about the finale. To the media, he tried his hardest to appear collected and cool, as nonchalant as he could be, in an attempt to get the journalists off of his back about the pressure he was facing - the pressure they created and gifted to him. What he said to you was an entirely different story; you knew he felt as though the team were relying on him for this race, for the championship - though, you knew this wasn’t true and his rational mind could agree with you.

Many nights he had spent with your hands carding through his hair as he bore his heart to you - his fears and anxieties coming to life in front of you, and in any way you could you tried to put out the fire in his mind. For the most part, Lando had to admit he was feeling significantly calmer about the race, knowing he could only do his best which was stay in control of his driving despite any external forces. 

However, his anxieties and nerves soon came creeping back in once you revealed you wouldn’t be able to spend the weekend with him in Abu Dhabi - the result of an early morning Sunday flight and important commitments at work the week prior. Of course, you had wanted to spend the entire weekend with him, which you thoroughly explained to Lando and he was deeply understanding. Again, how could he fault you for having a life outside of him? But there was no lying that he wasn’t feeling slightly deflated about the situation.

He hated to admit it but he needed you there; your positive words, your smile in the garage as he scurried around before races, even just feeling your body beside his on the drive into the paddock was enough to calm any nerves he had. Without you there, he felt as though he had returned to square one. He had to remind himself you weren’t missing the entire weekend, the final race was arguably the most important part anyway, and you would be there to give him a good luck kiss before he ducked into the car.

And that you were.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Whilst your words weren’t the most colourful, they were authentic. They were true to everything you had told Lando leading up to this point, and a gentle reminder had never hurt anybody before. “This isn’t the be all and end all, just the end of this season.”

“So it is the be all and end all? Technically speaking.” A teasing smile took over his lips, forcing himself to joke around instead of allowing himself to linger on the fact this truly was the end of this season and he may never have another season like it.

“No, you get to come back next year and do it all over again, and even better.” Your hands trailed up his suit, fidgeting with the ties at his neck - your own nerves beginning to jitter, although in a different way to Lando’s. You couldn’t help but feel nervous every time he got in the car, whether that be as a championship contender or not, the driving itself was enough to make you feel sick as you watched your boyfriend hurdle around corners at great speeds.

“What if this is my best?” His voice dropped ever so slightly, whilst he would openly confess this to you, he didn’t need any engineers or crew running by him to accidentally pick this up. “What if it doesn’t get any better?”

“I know it gets better because I know you,” The clock was ticking for drivers to run for the national anthem, you were running out of time to remind Lando how brilliant he was even at the most crucial time. “You put on a great drive every opportunity you could, this race is no different and next season won’t be any different too. You have to go out there and just drive, Lan, everyone here knows you can do it but-”

“Two minutes, Norris!” A voice from the crowd of papaya shouted to Lando, he knew he was running out of time with you but he needed to have you in his arms a second longer - even if he knew a hefty fine would come his way.

But a quick press of your lips to his, and then his cheek, and then back to his lips was enough to let him know you were sending him on his way. “A good luck kiss is all you need, yeah?” You smiled up at him as you didn’t want to be responsible for the trouble his team would put him through if he was even a second late.

“It’s more than enough,” He stared at you, burning the image of you smiling at him into his mind, something to visualise when he was driving. “You’re more than enough, I love you, you know that?”

“‘Course I do.” One more kiss and a mumble of ‘I love you,’ was pressed to his lips before he was dragged away from you, leaving you to search for his family as you needed a hand to hold whenever you watched him race - as you knew his mum did too.

But, as usual, Lando’s worries were for nothing as his car crossed the checkered flag first as he led Mclaren into the championship with Oscar not far behind him. With your relationship not being entirely open to the public, you knew you couldn’t put that privacy at risk by running out to Lando alongside his team doing so. Instead, you waited until he took the top step of the podium as you stood in the crowd below him and you felt the tears well within your eyes. You were sure there would be a camera somewhere that would spot you beside his mother, bleary eyed from crying as you stared up at him. Although, you couldn’t care less as your heart beamed with pride.

You wanted to run to him once he came down from the podium, you wanted to blabber in his arms about how proud you were and how you knew he could do it and how happy you were for him, but you knew he deserved nothing more than to celebrate with his team - the championship winning team. So you stayed back, lingering with his family and friends as you still tried to fight back tears that threatened to break loose from your eyes every time someone would mention how far he had come. 

But when Lando crossed back into the garage, trophy in hand and drenched in what you could only assume to be a mixture of champagne and sweat, you couldn’t stop yourself when your feet picked up and started running towards him. The moisture from his body seeped into your clothes but you couldn’t have cared less, you needed him closer than what was phsycially possible - your bodies clinging onto one another as though you two were trying to bleed your soulds together.

“I knew you would do it, of course you were gonna do it.” Your free-flowing tears were now adding to the drenched nature of his clothes but you couldn’t help but cry more so when you saw the beaming smile on his face - how relieved he was.

“Just needed that good luck kiss, I told you.” He held you with both arms, tight to his body, though he refused to loosen his grip on the championship trophy as it pressed into your back - you were sure you had just been demoted to second place in his life as this definitely trumped your existence.

“No, this was all you,” You tore your head away from being buried in his chest, quickly shooting down any idea that you had helped him in any way - this win was entirely of his own hard work. “You’ve worked this whole year for it.”

“C’mon, I couldn’t have done it without you,” He scoffed and used his free hand to brush some second hand, champagne soaked strands of hair away from your face. “Didn’t have you last year and now I do, you’re the only thing that’s changed from then and now.”

“That and maybe the fact your car’s a rocketship now,” You could feel his arm wrap around you waist, pulling you back into his body as those ten seconds you had stepped back for were too much for him. Which he would argue was correct; he was too cold without, too lonely. “So, how are you gonna celebrate? Is the team flying out for a night of celebrating?”

“Hm, they are, probably,” He pretended to ponder your questions, though he knew the answers - it was all he had thought about since he had left you in the garage before the race. “But do you really think me and Osc are gonna wanna just party after that? You know that’s not our vibe, baby.”

“What are you talking about?” You looked utterly confused at your boyfriend’s words - as if you, or anyone who knew him, would ever believe Lando’s ��vibe’ wasn’t a party. “Oscar, yeah, he isn’t a big guy for going out but you, Lan, don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not,” He laughed and shook his head, understanding why you wouldn’t believe him. “But I’m tired and I haven’t seen my girl in a week, and is it a crime for a man to feel lonely? Just want to be back in bed with you.” 

“You can lay in bed with me whenever you want.” Still, you truly couldn’t fathom that Lando would rather do nothing with you than celebrate his race win and his team’s championship.

“I can win the championship whenever I want.” He smirked down at you, grip tightening on your waist as he pulled you in for a kiss which you swiftly dodged.

“And now I need to learn to deal with your ego? God, you go from one extreme to the next.”

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ mickey 18 x f!reader x mickey 17 ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖ post-canon au nsfw/mdni ----- warnings: threesome, overstimulation, voyeurism, oral sex, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, 18 being mean to 17 (classic), excessive swearing

mickey-18 knew he was lucky to be alive. all because of some faulty wiring in the bomb’s remote ignition, thanks to arkady’s failing-up approach to science. the look marshall and 18 shared when they realized there would be no explosion was incomprehensible — even if he included 17’s fluke with the crevasse, mickey barnes had never been so dumbfounded to be alive. then, after that confounding moment of nothing, death still came knocking at the door, and it still wasn’t his. in fact, he was the one dishing it out!

maybe mickey barnes would never die again. been there, done that, got the memories to prove it. there’s two of ‘em now? who cares. is it a multiples violation? who cares. that’s what the council decided in the end. who. fucking. cares.

wanna know the only thing 18 cared about?

that time of the night when his world shrank to the size of a bedroom. when the door could be locked, and clothes could come off, and everyone else could go fuck themselves. the only people on the planet who mattered were you and him. and 17. he was there, too.

the only thing 18 wanted to do was feel his body on yours, skin on skin, perfectly aligned. he wanted to lavish your lips with kiss after kiss, quicker than your mind could keep up with, each one deeper and rougher and dirtier than the last. his hands traveled restlessly over your curves, squeezing and gripping like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your skin. he kissed and bit his way down your neck, your breasts, your stomach, and his smirk grew wider with every whimper and moan he coaxed out of you. it made him so hard to know he was the one who could do this to you, he was the one who made you feel like this, sound like this. the gratification was unparalleled.

he still remembered the way it felt to fuck you only a couple hours after he’d been printed, still chased that feeling every time you’ve fucked since. it was always a sensory overload, that first time. every mickey was always a little too exhausted for sex straight out of the printer, but there was really nothing else like it, so he couldn’t pass it up — 18 certainly didn’t. electricity firing in all directions, lighting up his nerves in unexpected ways, leaving him boneless, helpless to the pleasure. he kind of floated like that when he was on oxy, but it wasn’t the same. the drug didn’t capture that raw, almost painful feeling that made him want to scream when he sank into you, when you pressed him into the bed, when he came into you, flashing lights blinding his rolled-back eyes.

he wanted that all the time. it was too much, and that’s the way he wanted it. if somethin’ had to take him out, if he had a say in any of that the next time around, then he wanted to go out drowning in you. it was that or nothing.

and also, 17 was there.

the whole thing with the creepers and marshall’s death changed him a bit, he wasn’t such a pathetic lil shit anymore, thank fuck. buuuttt some things stayed the same.

as 18 made himself comfortable between your legs, 17 watched. it was like he didn’t know how to participate, even though they’ve been having sex with you for years now — 1 through 18, all the same difference — and you had sex diagrams and it should all make sense by now.

dumbass, 18 thought as he spread you open, getting that first taste of your arousal in a long, teasing lick before sealing his lips over your clit and getting to work.

the multiples thing still made 17 cagey. he always started off a little nervous, a little uncertain, but he eventually came around. ‘you’re thinkin’ about it, don’t think about it,’ 18 always said, but 17 never remembered. he’d started off just sitting there on the edge of the mattress, eyes wide, jaw slack, hand on his dick — over his pants because he was always the last one to take his clothes off, dumbass — touching himself idly until he decided to do something.

what will it be tonight? 18 would wonder gleefully in the privacy of his thoughts. he would start these nights making bets with you on what would set 17 off if you didn’t scold him for bullying his clone too much. but it was just too easy and too fun.

your whimpers turned into whines as 18’s mouth brought you higher and higher, your voice so broken and beautiful in his ear that he couldn’t stop himself from moaning too. you sank your fingers into his hair, throwing your head back on the pillow with a cry when he pushed two fingers into you. gradually, he worked up to a brutal pace, as fast as his hand could go from his angle, all while his lips and tongue worked you over in tandem. it was a practiced art of his, getting you off this way, and his cock throbbed not only from the pure bliss of getting to do it, but because it was so clear how much you loved it.

when your orgasm hit you, your back arched and you shouted his name — almost. suddenly, you were locked in a fevered, shaky kiss, 17’s hands cradling your overheated face, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned over you. languid as if he’d just come too (though he definitely hadn’t yet, not by a long shot), 18 lifted up from your pussy, laughing at his clone’s desperation.

he yanked at 17’s shirt, his waistband. “you’re overdressed for the party, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up,” 17 mumbled against your lips, but his hands started tugging at his clothes, fussing when 18 tried helping him.

you reminded them of the rules, “play nice, boys, or we’ll stop,” and in unison, they replied, “yes, ma’am.”

even this part was 18’s favorite. the sharing. it wasn’t so bad, when 17 finally figured it out.

he got to sit right beside his clone and watch as your mouth sank over 17’s cock, your lips wrapped so snugly around the head. got to hear the wet sounds as you worked him over, taking in more and more of his shaft until you met the base, fully in, your tongue working magic he couldn't see but knew all about. you swallowed around him carefully, and it was like 18 could feel it, just a psychosomatic response, the memory of how you’ve had him exactly like that before. he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his lap, wrapping it around his own cock, the head so slick with pre-come. you didn’t move your hand so much as you let him fuck it. your attention was focused on the cock in your mouth, the moans escaping from 17’s throat, the shifting of his hips as he wanted move but tried to be mindful not to choke you. 18 fucked your hand fiercely, so enamored with the sight of you like this — it was like watching porn, but it was real and it was him, even if it really wasn't. he knew exactly how it felt, but he could see it in a whole new way.

he didn’t even mind when 17 rested his cheek on the outer curve of his shoulder, leaning into him for support to keep from melting into the mattress, moaning loudly, shakily, as you picked up speed. yeah, he knew exactly how that felt, and it was fucking incredible.

18 came over your fingers with a grunt, chest heaving, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. 17 was still stuck there against his side, his eyes fluttering, lost to the pleasure, and he decided to be a good guy and help him along: “just look at that, she’s so fuckin’ beautiful like this. move a little, she can take it, can’t you, baby? yeah, you know she can, man, just fuck her a bit- there you go, that feels fucking good, right?” he said every filthy thought that entered his mind, his voice curling darkly around each word, until 17 tipped over the edge, gasping as he came, lodged deep in your throat.

you should be proud of him, right? for provoking his clone in a good way for once.

this was all that meant anything to 18. there was a whole new world to discover, homes to build, life to create. he knew all of that, and it was all well and good.

but this. nothing could top it. it was the one and only thing that mattered. fuck the rest.

[determunition]

hey! just read through chapters 2 and 3 of “in my life, i love you more”. congrats on making me tear up in the dead of night Several times. this is actually so good

AGH it's been a hundred years (like two weeks), but i wanted to finally answer this lovely ask; hurt/comfort and emotional stuff isn't usually my wheelhouse so i'm so happy to hear in my life's touched you in that way, i've been putting a lot of myself into it :3

speaking of which...if it's feels you seek, i have been holding out on you guys in the way of that good good angst; unsurprisingly it's easy to get bashful about doodling hurt/comfort from your own gay lil self-indulgent fanfic lmao

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

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@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

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[f0ofishies]

FL*SHING THEM AFTER AN ARGUEMENT

tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi, oikawa tōru

Tsukishima Kei, your beloved fiance. You loved the man to death, you swear.. it's just that he's always been like this. All of the damn time. There was one time when you argued over dinner because someone didn't want to eat Italian. Seriously? How'd you even date this guy and later on accept a ring from him.

Just kidding, he has his cute moments. The man had prioritized you a lot during his college days. He must've fallen hard for you, huh? When he did get on one knee, you thought it was a prank. Nonetheless, you said yes— already being engaged for 4 months, too!

Back on topic, he's always been a cranky mother fucker and even more when he lose that volleyball match. You looked at him— in astonishment. This man had the audacity to even be too confident in a little fun of chess?

You couldn't even believe the audacity of him. He'd been laughing at your move on your black horse.. "Gee, just get one with it, babe..!" Another ridiculing sentence from him could've sparked a fire inside you. "Hah? Seriously, why'd you even do this rematch— when you clearly don't know chess."

Your eye must've twitched at that, you love him, and you swear to that on your life. But, seriously, he's getting on your last nerve. As he quickly moved his queen, grabbing your knight in the process. You moved another piece as he smiled. "Thank god, we don't do rematches in volleyball."

Your joke immediately made his smirk turn sour. As you chuckled to your own statement, your eyes glanced up to his. He immediately gave a disgusted face at you. "What, Tsuki?—" You tease, almost pinching his face as he has moved away from your hand.

"What is your problem..?" Now that made you raise an eyebrow. "My problem—?" He can't be serious right now. And that's how he ended up giving you the silent treatment, ending the chess match when it just started. You were utterly confused... even bewildered by his actions

Knowing your fiance won't crumble to a piece of you, you just quickly called out. "Kei?" He didn't even look at you.. oh, so that's how he was going to play. "Tsuki?" No budge, huh? The man had some nerves for ignoring his future wife. "Tsukishima Kei." Last call, he finally whipped his head to you.

Rolling your shirt up— his golden brown eyes dilated at the sight of your perky, wait, wait, this was cheating. "That's right, doofus.. I know you can't ignore them." You could totally hear the clogs in his brain working. Even bouncing them a bit— He quickly pulled your shirt down. "Hey—! what was that for??"

"You're in one hell of a ride, do that shit again. I dare you, baby."

How much aura did you gain after marrying the Ushijima Wakatoshi? You, the lovely wife, as ever.. had always been the cheeky one in the marriage. During one of his games, you'd literally chant his name out so loud. Maybe the whole stadium could hear you.

He'd be there happily, holding the ring chained around his neck. Giving you a small smile— You couldn't help but beam as you show off your ring finger too! Now that was months ago, your husband came home in a sour face after meeting his parents.

"Baby, how were your parents?" You asked him, quickly smiling as you cooked your signature curry. "Fine like usual." His deep voice caught you off guard as you felt a hand crept behind you. "Oh, so what did they—" "Can we not." You tilted your head.. "Sure.. okay." You compiled because who were you to say anything about that?

You looked at him as he ate, he felt your stare. "Yes, love?" The way your hand had been tapping on to counter.. like crazy. Lost in thought, you look up at him. "Toshi.. you know you can tell me anything?" Of course he knew that so he raised an eyebrow. "I know."

You were itching to know why he's so persistent on not telling you why.. he would usually just tell you at this point. But he seriously didn't want to talk about it, so he dismissed your concerns once again. "But babe.." You whined.. something in him just snapped.

"No, can you stop trying?" You huffed at his tone of language.. it was kind of your fault for being this nosy. So now here you were having a full blow argument. Were you petty? Definitely, a hundred percent. So when your husband had genuinely left you in the kitchen. You huffed—

Clearly, he needed a lot of space, huh? Shutting the bedroom door very tight— you wanted to go sleep there, but how? He had locked it from the inside. "Toshi..?" You called out. No answer. "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" You yelled out and finally the familiar 'click!' You finally let out a sigh and practically go in fast.

He's still on the bed, clearly trying to sleep. "Toshi..~" Your sweet velvety voice intoxicating him then sliding onto the bed— even straddling onto him. Still, the man laid bare, not even checking you out. You intentionally grind, trying to find the best friction. His hands finally with all of its glory wrapped around your hips.

"Look up." Your command might've sent a shudder on your poor husband. The blood pumping down to his familiar friend down there— oh how a vixen you were.. Seriously, he saw the way you held your shirt up. Those breasts out in the air just for him. "Mmm? Want it bad?"

"I swear, wife— you're always all talk and no action.."

That Argentinan volleyball player was taken by you! Who knew he had the hots for you. Tōru Oikawa, he had recently left Japan for Argentina.. then he met you. Somehow, you two clicked. Clearly, you only thought he was just getting into your pants but nope!

The infamous girlfriend of the volleyball player never really visited his games. Probably because your work always consumed your time. Tōru was beyond okay with that— of course he was. But after such a long tiring game, all he wanted to do was a date night with you. Sadly, you were still out at work.. in overtime. How could you not remember it at all? When you came home, his first response was immediate silence. Seriously nothing!!

"Tōru?" You called out in the shared apartment, finally slipping off your shoes. Stretching your arms wide as no response. "...Babe?" You called out once more. Absolutely nothing— you panicked, of course. Already running around to find him.That's when you spotted your sulky boyfriend, buried deep into the bed among all the plushies you have.

"Shit, babe.. did something happen at practice?" You asked him as he finally noticed your presence. An immediate huffed was heard, thanks to him. "Babe..? Baby..!!" You whined the petname, trying to uncover the blankets.

There he was, your lovely boyfriend. Tōru glared at you, those dark brown hues of his. "What's made you so sour..?" You asked him once more, trying to coerce him out of his moodiness. "I wonder why." He interrupted you, that made you raise an eyebrow. "Babe..."

You were utterly clueless, even when he avoided your touches. It suddenly clicked to you, a promise to him on for a date. You internally groan at that, "Shit, Tōru you know I didn't mean to forget.." Your hand itching to grasp his— yet he pulled away once again. "You always forget about me.." He whined into your shared pillows. "No I don't.. baby.. I'll make it up to you!!" You try to reason with him.

That's what got him to lash out at you. You did kind of deserve it— so here you are on the bed trying to get a sulky Tōru out of your shared bedroom once more. An idea popped into your head! "Tōru.. I have something to show you.." You found the man finally walk out of the bedroom. His disheveled appearance still looked way too good for your own eyes.

Your fingers found their way to your blouse— giving him a sweet smile. Only halfway through, you were damn thankful for picking a good bra for today. "Baby, I'm really sorry.." You whispered. And finally— your breasts were in full view of his sight. Nothing could have prepared you for the feral Tōru ravishing you!

The man was full on groping your breasts, even fiddling with those buds.. was he really that turned on? You couldn't believe you've let him play with you like this. On the tips of your heels— you needed more friction down there, too. So you whined at him, how your cunt needed his fingers too! And that's what he did, dipped them into your soaked panties.

"Fffuck— that's not fair, babe.. yknow your boobs and pussy are my weakness..!"

[arkangelo-7]

I’m sure someone’s already headcannoned this, but Bruce having pet names for the Batkids? Man, those are his babies—you can bet your ass he has pet names for them. He might not be the type of man to show much affection beyond a shoulder pat or the occasional forehead kiss, but he’s determined to parent the crap outta these orphans, and pet names are an easier medium to show that he cares.

Dick is both “chum” and “sweetheart” depending on the context. When Bruce is feeling playful and comfortable (the easy, “your mine and I’m just happy to be here with you” kind of love), he’ll stick with “chum” and Dick absolutely loves it. But when Dick’s sick or has a nightmare or got injured during patrol? It’s sweetheart. It’s default mode for Bruce, because seeing Dick in pain brings up so many raw, intense emotions (Bruce gets scared, goddamit) that it’s easier for him to say “I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay, just keep your eyes on mine,” then it is to say “I’m so terrified that I’m going to loose you, I love you, you’re my everything.”

Jason is“Jaylad.” But it’s less of the name that’s important and more of the story behind it that is. For the first few months that Jason was in Bruce’s care, Bruce didn’t dare call him anything other then his name, in fear that he’d scare him away (he was already so distrusting, so hesitant, so fearful whenever Bruce talked to loud or moved to fast or got upset), but at the same time, he’d seen how pleased Dick had been at being called “chum” and wanted to bestow a similar endearment on Jason. But—he didn’t want to go to far. So instead of calling him “lad” like his own father had once called him, Bruce calls him “Jaylad.” It’s a little more impersonal, but it makes Jason more comfortable. (But when Bruce cradled his son’s broken body he said “no, darling, not you, don’t leave me—” because just how Dick is “sweetheart,” Jason has also always been “darling.”)

For Tim… it’s more complicated. He shoved his way into Bruce’s life and he’s forever grateful, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Jason and Dick. He sees Tim as his son, of course, but their relationship was built on the darkest, most despairing part of Bruce’s life. But even in that terrible season, Bruce would look over at Tim working on a case or cleaning his suit and say, “Good job, sport.” It doesn’t happen often, but Tim is “sport.”

Cassandra is “love.” Bruce has never said it to her, aloud, but he knows Cass can read him well enough to hear the unspoken endearment, to see how much he longs to protect her, bring her joy, fill her heart with all the love she’s filled his with.

Steph is “duck.” And not necessarily because Bruce decided that it was, but because 9 times out of 10 he finds himself screaming, “Robin, get down!” because Stephanie will not for the love of God follow his orders, and end up right in the line of fire. To save time he eventually just started saying “Duck!” It keeps Steph from getting whacked to high heavens and saves Bruce (another) heart attack, but over the years it’s also become somewhat of a ritual to say “duck” whenever Steph walks in the room. Bruce secretly wants to call her “ducky” (which is what his mother called Kate), but he’s never worked up the nerve.

Duke is “kid.” By the time he’s in the family, Bruce has loosened up and lightened up, especially with everyday affection (which is to say, he’s not avoiding it like the plague). He’s quick to say “Good job, kid” whenever Duke had an accomplishment or ask “how are you today, kiddo?” when they see each other in passing in the Batcave.

Damian, lastly, would never allow Bruce to call him anything other then his name. But every once in a while, Bruce can get away with saying “son.” And it’s the best thing in the world.

[monstersholygrail]

oh to be a mouse hybrid toyed with by a cat hybrid who just wants to see you squirm in every way

Ooh when the Cat Hybrid’s owners told him they were getting him a new little friend, you, a Mouse Hybrid were by far the last thing he was expecting.

He wanted another cat to mess with, to play with… to mate with. But he couldn’t stop himself from noticing your plump round form scurrying about the house or the constant skittish look in your eye as you surveyed your new home. Perhaps you would do.

From that day on he would terrorize you mercilessly. Chasing you around the around the house when your owners were gone, saying he was gonna devour you when he finally got his claws into you. Backing you into corners just to see the delicious terror in your eyes. Plopping his large form right on top of you so that you couldn’t escape him even as you scrambled desperately to get away.

It was never ending and as much as you wanted to say you hated it, it felt far too good. The Cat hybrid severely underestimated you, forgetting you too were a hybrid with all the same perks. You could smell his desire in the air every time he chased you. And you had grown addicted to the scent. To feel so wanted and yearned for, especially during the chase, nothing else could compare.

He would only ever mess with you when he felt like it so you figured you might need to give him a little push. Using yourself as bait you use your owners creaky stairs to your advantage. As soon as the first step creaks, the Cat hybrid’s head snaps up from where he’s perched. His eyes meet your wide ones for only a moment before you’re bolting down the stairs.

As soon as you hear the pounding of paws behind you, you smirk wickedly knowing your plan had worked. Cute little squeaks leave your mouth as you run throughout the house, narrowly trying to avoid being caught. He should’ve realized how much you like this. You’re much faster than him after all.

After rounding the next corner you wait a moment for him to catch up. Seeing a flash of fur and then you’re off. The Cat Hybrid pauses for a moment as he realizes what you had just done. What you’ve actually been doing this entire time.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he chases you at lightning speed. He’s catching up to you in no time and by the look of genuine alarm in your eye he knows this wasn’t a trick. Instead of his usual antics he pounces on you, sending you both tumbling to the floor.

“You messin’ with me, little mouse?” He growls in your ear, his body pinning you to the hard wood floor. You don’t even bother to squirm, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare up at him.

Before you can even blink he’s shoving his hand down your pants and swiping his fingers through your folds, your slick drenching them with how aroused you are. He chuckles lowly, rumbling purrs vibrating into your chest and straight to your core.

“So this has been a game to you, huh? A bit of foreplay before I inevitably snap and fuck you dumb.”

You find you can’t even answer, panting breaths escaping you as you rock with his hand that’s slowly rubbing against all the right places. He devilishly smiles and pushes two fingers deep inside you, causing your hips to jolt as you cry out.

“Well, sweetheart, you’ve done it. I’ve snapped,” he says with a menacing snarl as he pumps his fingers roughly against your walls, his claws just barely scraping them and setting your nerves on fire.

You try and be as good as you can, staying perfectly still for him as he fucks you with his fingers, but your small reaction only seems to infuriate him further. He picks up pace, licking and nipping at your throat until you too break and your moans echo throughout the empty house. A secret smirk plays on lips.

That is until the Cat Hybrid plays a trick of his own. Pumping his fingers inside you, drawing you closer and closer till you’re just about to fall off that edge when he suddenly stops and withdraws. You whine, squirming now as you begin to beg for more.

“I see through you now, sweet prey. You won’t be winning this one.”

You only start to realize your mistake as he starts fucking you with his cock, the large length stretching you so good. The natural curve hitting the soft spot inside you perfectly. Then he starts doing to you exactly what he did with his fingers. Bringing you up to the edge and then pulling you right back.

He’s as merciless as he is when terrorizing you and in a way he’s doing just that but in a whole new way that drives you more insane than the chasing ever did. Eventually you’re a sobbing mess, your tears and your arousal forming two separate puddles on the floor with how in need you are right now as he starts up again.

You jump as the sudden sensation of his wet nose nuzzling into your neck, his purrs even louder now. You immediately cling to him, meeting his thrusts and trying to chase your growing orgasm before it’s taken away again.

“Do you think you’ve earned the right to cum for me now?” The Cat Hybrid asks and you whine, nodding rapidly.

You feel his grin against your skin before he pulls out and starts slamming his cock deep inside your cunt. His intent clear before he even says a word. But when he does it’s like music to your ears.

“I agree. Cum for me, mate.”

This time as you get closer and closer to the finish, he doesn’t stop. Instead, his hands slips down and rubs tight circles into your clit. Your orgasm breaks through almost instantly and you scream as you milk his cock for all it’s worth, sending him right into ecstasy with you.

But the sound of the car door doesn’t leave either of you much time to bask in pleasure coursing through you. Luckily the Cat hybrid takes the lead, maneuvering you both as he curls around you, keeping you stuffed full of his cock but hiding any of the evidence. You’re too weak to do anything but shift into how he molds you. Making it appear as if you two are asleep and cuddling in the hall.

“Aw, look at them. Finally getting along,” you hear your owners say who are none the wiser to what’s really going on.

Cat Hybrid bf rocks his hips, snapping them back inside you quietly and forcing a squeak from your throat. He chuckles under his breath and nuzzles into you, not planning on moving away from you for hours. Wondering how many more orgasms he can rip from your tight pussy.

[cloudzoro]

Hand Placement | One Piece ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Where they prefer to put their hands when fucking you good.

masterlist

a/n: hi! it's been a good few months that I was inactive and now I'm back to writing and I feel nice and refreshed ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: ace, crocodile, law, mihawk, nami, reiju, robin, sanji, tashigi, zoro

cw: squirting, overstimulation, fem!reader, gagging, rough sex, unprotected sex, finger sucking, face sitting

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ace - Pussy

Ace watches your face intently as he rocks his hips into you, admiring the way you look when he's fucking you. He thinks you are so beautiful and raw under him like this that he can't wait to make you fall apart.

When your pussy clenches around him and your words start to slur together he knows you're close. He shushes your desperate whimpers, promising you he's going to make you cum. Ace reaches a hand between you to rub at your clit, letting out an amused hum when you whine at the pressure. You're sensitive and your nerves are on fire at the contact. He hasn't even looked down to where he's touching you, so focused on the way your pretty face tenses as you approach your orgasm. He loves how responsive you are when he touches you. He keeps his hand going while you cum, playing with your pussy until you push his hands away from the sensitivity.

Crocodile - Hair

Crocodile sits shirtless on the sofa, leaning back with his hard cock out of his trousers. You kneel next to him on the cushions, slightly nervous of how you're going to even fit him in your mouth. You've sucked him off many times but you're still intimidated by his size. He asks if you're ok as he caresses your cheek with his hand. As soon as you nod in response to his question his hand slides to your hair, gripping a handful and pulling you down so your mouth hovers over his cock. He keeps a tight hold of your locks as you work him into your mouth. He lets out a deep groan as he guides you on his cock, showing you the pace he wants. Once you're able to keep the pace by yourself, he relaxes his grip but doesn't let go of your hair.

Law - Back

He's a real softie so he can't help that his favourite position is you riding him. Law loves the way you take the lead but he's still in control, he loves the way your tits look when you bounce on his cock, and he loves the way you look down at him in awe of how good he feels inside of you. You take him so well and respond to his gruff voice when he tells you to slow down or speed up.

He keeps his hands on your hips at first until your thighs start to shake and your movements begin to slow. You don't even have to beg him to take over because he snakes his hands around to your back and pulls you flush against him before you can even get a word out. he lifts you slightly so he has room to plant his feet and fuck up into you. It feels special and intimate to hold your body so close to his, and he hides his flushed face in the crook of your neck as he coaxes you to your first orgasm of the night.

Mihawk - Wrists

Mihawk has you up against the wall of his castle, holding both hands behind your back by the wrists. You try to move your hips against the thigh he has wedged between your legs, but you can't get the friction right, and you cry out in frustration. He feigns cluelessness and asks you what's wrong, darkly smiling as you whine about how you can't get off. You struggle against his grip, desperate to have him touch you where you need him most, but it's no use.

He keeps one hand holding your wrist and uses the other one to pull his cock free. He asks you if you're going to be good and after a nod from you, he readjusts his position as pushes his cock into you, enjoying the way your moan echoes through the large building. With his hand holding your wrists behind your back, you have no way to brace yourself and your face ends up pressed against the cold stone. You don't complain about it though, he filling you up too well to care.

Nami - Thighs

Nami laughs from between your legs as you squirm against the sheets. She could eat you out for hours just to hear the cute noises you make. Even though you've been together for a while, you're still nervous about sex with Nami. She's so confident in herself that she intimidates you.

Nami hasn't touched you yet, taking a moment to appreciate your naked form. When her eyes linger on your pussy for a second too long you try to close your legs in embarrassment but Nami moves fast and grabs your thighs forcing them apart to make room for her face. She briefly scolds you for keeping her from seeing her favourite thing in the world and lowers her face to your cunt. She digs her nails slightly into your skin as she licks over your clit. The way she moans against your pussy has you pushing your hips into her face to get even more. Nami remains unfazed, using her grip to keep you in place as she takes you apart with her tongue.

Reiju - Ass

When Reiju tells you to sit on her face, she means sit on it. none of that hovering bullshit will satisfy her. She wants to taste you more than anything but you just won't listen to her and insist that you'll suffocate her or crush her face - to which she responds that she doesn't see a problem with either of those options.

Sick and tired of your whining and determined to show you a good time, Reiju grabs two handfuls of your ass cheeks and parts them so she can get better access to your hole. In a swift show of strength, she pulls you down against her face, tongue finding your hole immediately. A quick slap to the ass acts as a silent instruction from Reiju to rock yourself against her face. Now that worries have somewhat subsided, you oblige, moving your hips.

Robin - Everywhere

Robin has unlimited hands, which means unlimited ways to please you and hold you. She kneels on bed between your spread legs that are being held open by two stray arms. Similarly, two hands are pinning your wrists down and two more are groping at your chest. Her real hands are focus on your pussy, fingers thrusting and curling inside you. Her smile is soft as she leans over you to kiss you, not stopping her fingers. She shushes you as you whimper at her. She tells you to be quiet in case someone walks in but you don't know if you can.

The added stimulation on your chest combined with Robin's fingers being knuckle deep inside you has you barrelling towards an orgasm embarrassingly fast. Feeling you clench around her fingers, Robin summons another hand to cover your mouth so you don't moan too loudly. She focuses most of her energy on her real hands twisting and pumping enough to make you cum as hard as possible. She has a hrin on her face as she watches your body tense up and juices flood her hand.

Sanji - hands

Ever the hopeless romantic, Sanji likes to take things slowly with you. He was a total virgin when you first started dating and he's loved learning to please you and getting the chance to figure out what makes your body squirm. He's an enthusiastic lover who sees sex as a show of his utter devotion to you.

He whispers affirmations and sweet pet names as ge pushes his cock into you. Almost instinctively, he reaches out to your hands and interlocks your fingers. You can tell by the way his hands squeeze yours that he's just as, if not more, affected by the way your pussy squeezes him. He keeps your hands intertwined above your head as he rocks hips despite his sensitivity, repeating how much he loves you over and over again.

Tashigi - hips

Tashigi was inexperienced but, through some fun explorations with you, had figured out she preferred to put on a strap and take you to cloud 9. She's a service top, deriving pleasure from pleasing you. She's had you beneath her, instructing her on where to kiss and lick and bite to mark you up the way you like it.

She's learned in your short time together how to make you comfortable so when she turns you over onto your hands and knees, she makes sure to tuck a pillow under your hips and smooth a hand down your spine to make sure you're not in an awkward position. Her hands settle at your hips as she pushes her strap into you. The way you moan out as she thrusts her hips goes straight to her core, and she tightens her grip on your hips. When you whimper out a plea to go faster, she doesn't hesitate using her strength to hold your hips still so she can get you at a good angle. She hears your cry of pleasure into the pillows on her bed and throws her concentration into hitting the right spot that's going to have you shaking under her. Her grip is so tight against your skin that it might leave marks when you're done, the thought of which pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Zoro - mouth

Sex with Zoro is always filthy and intimate. You can feel him everywhere in your surroundings and he defiles your pretty body with cum, sweat and saliva. His favourite part of your body is your mouth; he loves when you talk back to him or another crewmember, he loves the blissful satisfied smile that you reserve only for him and he loves the way your pretty lips look stretching to accommodate his huge cock.

He's laid you down on your back and is fingering you open, sucking at your clit. When you beg for his cock he promises you you'll get it, he's just gotta stretch you out first. You cum pretty quickly, Zoro's intensity has you riled up. He helps you work through your orgasm before removing his fingers from you. Instead of locking his own fingers clean, he sucks some of your juices off and then holds his fingers - covered in a mix of your cum and his saliva to your lips.

He tells you that if you're a good girl and suck his fingers clean that he'll finally fuck you the way you want. You accept his fingers into your mouth and suck, bobbing your head slightly as if you were sucking his duck. Zoro's breath hitches as you run your tongue over the pads of his fingers. He pushes his fingers slightly further into your mouth as he pushes the tip of his cock into you. He doesn't move his fingers from your warm wet mouth, using them as a - really hot - makeshift gag to keep you quiet. Watching your muffled squeals around his fingers as he finally bottoms out inside you almost breaks his self control when it comes to sex.

[mssorceressupreme]

Your Warmth | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: gryffindor quidditch team throws a celebratory party at the lake after their win, and you decide to go though you were not one for parties. someone then pulls a prank on you (not fred), throwing you in the lake, not knowing you can’t swim.

Warnings: shy!reader, drowning, reader can’t swim, slight anxiety, fluffy towards the end, Fred's a sweetheart here <3

———

The crisp autumn evening air whispered through the open windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls as Ginny and Hermione practically bounced in front of you, eyes wide with excitement.

“Come on, just for a little while!” Ginny urged, her hands gripping your arms, pulling you toward the door. “You’ve been hiding out in here with your books for days! Gryffindor won, you have to come celebrate!”

You frowned, clutching your book tightly to your chest, hesitating. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just… crowds, noise, all those people—too much. You liked the quiet, the solitude, the comforting silence of the common room and the feel of pages turning in your hands.

The idea of leaving it all behind to go to the lake where everyone was partying felt like stepping out of your comfort zone, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

Hermione's voice cut through your thoughts, gentle but persistent. “It’ll be fun, you know. You don’t have to talk to everyone, but you can be there with us. It'll be good for you.” She flashed that soft, reassuring smile of hers, the one that always made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You looked between the two of them, and in the end, their enthusiasm was too much to resist. “Alright,” you muttered, resigning yourself to their relentless encouragement. "But just for a little while."

Ginny grinned, throwing her arms around you in excitement. "That's the spirit! We’ll help you get ready."

They pulled you upstairs to change, their infectious energy filling the room as they found an outfit that suited you perfectly. Hermione worked on your hair, braiding it with practiced ease while Ginny picked out a soft sweater, something comfortable but still fitting for the occasion.

You stood there, feeling awkward but somehow right at the same time, allowing yourself to be swept up in the moment. You hadn’t even realised how much you needed this until now.

With a deep breath, you followed them down the stairs, your heart picking up its pace as you neared the lake. The chatter and laughter from the lake became louder, mixed with the occasional splash of water. You could feel your nerves gnawing at you, but you took each step with Ginny and Hermione by your side.

When you finally reached the party, the sight of everyone laughing, swimming, and dancing around the fire made your stomach do somersaults.

There were Gryffindors everywhere, but the mix of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins made it feel like you were walking into something chaotic. But it was him that you noticed first.

Fred.

He stood with his teammates, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face, as he exchanged a joke with Ron. His red hair was slightly messy from the wind, and his hazel eyes sparkled with the same energy that made your stomach flip every time he was around.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to stare too long, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered when you saw him laughing with his friends.

The warmth of his smile made everything feel brighter, and for a brief moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, he might notice you—someone who was always in the background, too quiet, too shy, too invisible.

You quickly looked away, not daring to let him catch you staring.

But Fred did notice.

As if on cue, Fred’s eyes flicked in your direction. His gaze traveled down your body and back up to meet your eyes. For a split second, time stopped, and you quickly looked away, cheeks flushing hot.

He didn’t even say anything, just went back to his conversation, but you felt the lingering heat of his attention like a whisper against your skin. You were so used to staying in the background, a quiet observer, never the centre of attention. The thought that Fred might actually see you felt surreal.

"Stop being so shy," Ginny teased, nudging you gently. "Go talk to him if you want."

You flushed, but didn’t answer. Instead, you clung to Hermione’s side as the three of you mingled, laughing with others but always staying in the background. You stayed close to them, watching as some people danced by the water and others swam, their voices blending with the evening air.

You excused yourself after a while to grab a drink from the punch table, your nerves creeping back up. But before you could even reach the cup, Lee Jordan appeared beside you, fresh from the lake with his wet hair and a wide grin on his face.

"Woah!" Lee laughed, his eyes bright. "Put your books down for once, yeah?"

You smiled awkwardly, pausing from grabbing a cup. "Yeah, decided to get a drink in the open air."

Lee’s grin widened as he noticed the hesitation in your eyes. "Come on, join us! The water’s amazing. Just relax and have some fun."

You bit your lip, glancing nervously at the water. "I’m fine, thank you."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Don’t be shy. Come on! It’ll cool you off." He stepped closer, his energy infectious but overwhelming. "It’s nice out here, you’re just standing by the punch the whole time!"

You shook your head, trying to retreat slightly, but Lee wasn’t taking no for an answer.

"Go on! The water’s perfect, you’ll enjoy it!" He laughed again, completely unaware of how out of place you felt.

"I really don’t—"

Before you could finish, Lee had picked you up without warning, hoisting you over his shoulder like it was nothing.

You shrieked, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Lee, no! Put me down!” You slapped his back lightly, trying to wiggle free, but he held onto you with ease, his grip too strong for you to escape.

The crowd around you burst into laughter, thinking it was just some fun little game and that the two of you were sharing a moment of banter.

You could hear them cheering, but your pulse was racing in a panic. The water loomed ahead, and you couldn’t shake the fear rising in your chest.

But it was too late. Before you could protest again, Lee tossed you into the water with a loud splash.

The world became a blur.

Cold water flooded over you, and you sank beneath the surface. Panic gripped you instantly. Your body went into a wild frenzy, arms flailing, legs kicking.

You tried to force yourself back to the surface, gasping for air, but it was like the water was swallowing you whole, holding you under. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t see.

You were drowning.

Fred’s gaze had never left you. The moment Lee tossed you in, Fred’s eyes locked onto the water, his body stiff with concern. His friends were still laughing, unaware of the danger, but Fred saw it—saw the way you struggled, your head bobbing beneath the surface, unable to rise.

The laughter stopped in his chest, and without a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his drink into Ron’s hands, his face hardening.

Without even looking back, he sprinted and dove into the lake, cutting through the water with swift, powerful strokes.

He swam down, his heart hammering in his chest as he spotted you, desperately thrashing, your face pale with fear. His hand reached out, pulling you up from the depths, and he didn’t let go.

Fred’s arms wrapped around you like a lifeline, and before you even knew what was happening, he was carrying you out of the water.

The world came back into focus, the laughter replaced by silence as the others watched in stunned silence.

Fred was with you in an instant, his hands gently carrying you as he guided you back to the shore.

His shot Lee a death glare, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his full attention to you. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning your trembling form.

Without a word, Fred wrapped you in his arms, his warmth and strength a stark contrast to the cold, shaking fear still in your bones.

You pressed your face into his chest, the relief washing over you, the fear ebbing as his body heat seeped into you.

He carried you all the way back to the common room, not caring that his clothes were soaked through nor did he care about the party. He just needed to get you dry.

Once inside, he moved quickly, pulling his hoodie from the back of a chair and wrapping it around your shoulders. The soft fabric of his shirt still clung to his skin, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you to be okay.

He sat beside you on the couch, watching as you trembled. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…"

The two of you shared a moment of silence, Fred scanning your body for any injuries.

Feeling like you could trust him, you decided to share a secret of yours, "When I was younger, my family went on a camping trip. The place was too beautiful not to explore, so I ran off on my own, exploring every inch of the forrest I could..."

He listened intensely, leaning in, his head tilting as you told your story.

"I came across a lake with a dock and ran across it without hesitation...silly of me though, I should've checked my laces before sprinting without a thought..."

"A bit silly of you, yeah." He teased, and you chuckled lightly.

"Shove off." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Let me guess, you fell in?" His voice was now soft, empathetic, his eyes glistened with concern.

You nodded, tearing up slightly as you recalled this traumatic moment. "Felt like forever. Felt like I was being dragged down deeper and deeper. I yelled for help but only muffled sounds came out...thought I was going to die. Never entered a lake since."

Fred’s hand brushed over your hand gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stopped Lee, he just gets carried away sometimes, doing things without thinking, that git. I won’t let anything happen to you again..”

You stayed still for a moment, his voice a comfort as it settled over you. But then a small voice inside you urged you to speak, to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you. You lifted your head slightly, looking up at Fred, his face inches away from yours.

“Why… why did you help me?” you asked quietly, your words almost a breathless whisper. "I mean, you didn’t have to, you could’ve just let Lee—"

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he interrupted, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I couldn’t just leave you there. You looked terrified. I’m not gonna stand around and watch someone I care about struggle. Not like that.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—you did, more than you could say—but the fact that he cared, that he’d seen you struggling and rushed to help without a second thought, made your chest tighten with excitement.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “I… I’m glad you did, though,” you said, the words feeling vulnerable, too open, but you couldn’t take them back now. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. So… thank you.”

Fred smiled softly, his eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and something you couldn’t place. “No problem,” he said quietly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

There was a pause, a comfortable kind of quiet between the two of you. Fred shifted slightly, looking down at you with an almost nervous energy that seemed at odds with his usual confident demeanor. “You, uh, you don’t have to stay on the couch,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, as if the question made him uneasy. “I mean, you could… you could rest here if you want.” He patted his lap.

You blinked up at him in surprise, and for a second, you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “Rest there?” you echoed, your voice hesitant.

“Yeah,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up in a shy grin. “If you want to. I don’t mind. You look like you could use a little rest after… all that.”

You swallowed hard, the idea of being so close to him both thrilling and intimidating. “I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you replied, voice a little shaky despite your best efforts to sound calm.

Fred tilted his head, the concern and warmth in his gaze making your heart flutter a little. “You won’t. I promise. I’m just making sure you’re alright. Besides,” he added with a slight smirk, “I am pretty comfortable, so I wouldn’t mind.”

A small laugh escaped you, the tension between you both finally starting to ease. “I guess it’s only fair, then,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you slowly let yourself relax against him, laying your head in his lap, in his hoodie.

You felt like you were about to explode, from barely talking to Fred to resting on his lap, it all felt surreal.

Fred shifted so you were sitting more comfortably. “I’ll stay right here, alright? You’re safe with me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability of the situation sinking in, but then, surprisingly, you felt a sense of trust that you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the way he had been so kind, so protective without question.

His warmth and the steady beat of his heart made you feel like you were in a cocoon, safe and protected.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet between you now comfortable, almost soothing. Fred absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re alright now,” he murmured again, his voice soft, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You nodded, your eyes closing as the tension of the past few minutes started to fade away. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet but content. “I think I’m gonna be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling at you. Slowly, the warmth of Fred’s presence washed you into a wave of calm. You drifted to sleep, your head resting in his lap, his fingers softly stroking your hair.

Fred watched you, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t quite put into words. He could’ve stayed there forever, his hand resting gently on your head, keeping you safe.

And in that moment, he couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl he had seen, and that he would never let anything harm you again.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who works as the head chef in a three star restaurant. Is very passionate about his cooking and baking, although he prefers cooking. Let's the confectioner handle the sweets.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates costumers or guests, who think they can outsmart him, by complaining about the 'dry steak', however he simply makes them go home. This way, him and his colleagues have less stress.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who gets criticized because of his strict rules in his restaurant by the press. However, he just wants to make sure it's enjoyable and calm. Without any guests trying to get more free food by playing a victim.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates the press.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates taking the fresh products from the delivery guy, because he's more than talkative. Always makes anyone else go than himself.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who (sometimes) hates his colleagues. Mostly Soap, because he manages to set at least two pans on fire every day and then always ends up staying late to help the cleaning ladies with their job.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who once threw a tomato at Soap for pissing him off, then said; »Be happy that wasn't my knife, you wanker!«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who sometimes gets carried away and talks more loudly than usual, making some guests question if the work morals are actually okay or not.

»Just follow the damn orders, you carrot!« »If the costumer said 'no garlic', then it means 'no garlic'! I don't need this place to be shut down because of your stupid ass.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who either loves it or hates it when familys with children come in. Asks the waiter or waitress who took their orders about them, being happy if the kid is well behaved.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who loves to cook things off the kid's menu, likes to serve it himself when he knows the child/children are nice and not little gremlins.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who rants to himself whenever something upsets him in the slightest way.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to think that you are his favourite coworker. Knows about your excellent degree, enjoys your food and new recipes and loves the fact that you're always on time. Others can't compare.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to gossip with you on breaks over a cigeratte or a cup of tea.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who always makes sure that Velvet's desserts are perfect. It's his most loyal costumer, and the sweetest elder lady on earth.

»Of course, we'll make the most sweetest cheesecake as possible.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who wants to put his hands into the mixer after he heard Velvet compliment you, then following up with, »I'm surprised chef Riley hasn't fallen for you already. I'd be distracted in the kitchen if I had to work with you.« Because she is somehow managed to hit a nerve.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who tries to make you do other work, like organising the storage room and collecting the deliveries, or even cleaning out the containers outside. Just to be more focused on his work... but you're starting to hate it.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who makes Soap shut up with another tomato once he tries to tease Ghost about his 'crush'. Then contemplated with the thoughts of shutting the place down because of his antics.

⟨part 2⟩

a/n: got this idea while reawatching a random series from my childhood, so here you go. hope you enjoyed! (divider @vesearartistry) I'd happily take more requests for this AU, just drop it into my inbox!! Also, he reminds me of Gordon Ramsay.

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