#wear something that flows and is satisfying to watch in motion!!!

[aromanticasterisms]

emilie obtained :]

[chosok-amo]

SILLY LITTLE NIGHTMARES: GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

you are having a nightmare about your boyfriend, geto, became a curse user and is a mass murderer, so you spend your day following him around like a puppy.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, murder mentioned.

geto finishes the last bit of paperwork, the soft sound of his pen clicking shut echoing in the living room. he leans back in his chair, stretching out his arms and letting out a content sigh, satisfied to finally have some time to relax. gojo is busy tidying up the room from the mess he just made, adjusting the pillows on the couch and fluffing the throw blankets, occasionally shooting playful glances at geto.

just then, you walk into the room, your eyes still puffy and red from a restless nap. the moment they see you, both of them pause, sensing something is off. tears stream down your cheeks as you try to wipe them away, but they only seem to flow more freely.

geto’s heart drops as he immediately stands up, worry etched on his face. “hey, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, taking a step closer to you. he can feel a wave of concern wash over him, instinctively wanting to protect you from whatever is troubling you.

you blink up at him, your voice shaking as you manage to speak. “i… i just had a bad dream,” you say, your words barely above a whisper, the weight of fear still clinging to you.

you walk closer to geto, feeling the weight of your lingering emotions pressing down on you. without a second thought, you straddle him, sitting on his lap as you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. your body shakes with quiet sobs, and the warmth of his presence envelops you like a comforting blanket.

geto’s initial alarm quickly melts away as he sees your vulnerable state. he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer until your body is pressed flush against him. a part of him is glad that it was just a dream, but he hates seeing you in such distress.

geto runs his hand gently over your hair, his touch soothing and tender. “ssh, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle. gojo’s eyes dart between the two of you, a subtle frown creasing his forehead, as he pauses his tidying to watch the scene unfolding.

gojo crosses his arms, his eyes flickering with a hint of concern, but he remains silent, letting geto take the lead. he leans against the back of the couch, watching the two of you intently.

geto continues to hold you close, his hand caressing your back in slow, circular motions. “do you want to talk about it?” he gently inquires, his voice low and steady. he isn’t particularly fond of hearing about nightmares, but he wouldn't hesitate to listen if it meant offering you some sort of comfort.

you take a deep breath, trying to gather the words through your sobs as you cling to geto. his warmth and steady presence help, but the lingering fear from the dream makes your chest tighten. “it was horrible,” you manage, your voice shaky. “i dreamt that you… you became a curse user… and…” your voice breaks, tears streaming down your cheeks as you press your face into his shoulder.

geto stiffens slightly, his grip on you tightening. despite the calm expression he usually wears, you can feel the tension in his body at your words. he’s quiet for a moment, letting you continue when you’re ready.

“you…” you take another shaky breath, the words harder to say than you expected. “you killed people… so many… and then you left me and satoru behind. you just… disappeared.” fresh tears fall as the vividness of the nightmare overwhelms you again, the image of geto turning away from you playing over and over in your mind.

geto’s heart sinks deeper as he listens to your tremulous voice and imagines the nightmare you endured. his arms unconsciously tighten around you, as if he could shield you from the horrors of the dream world.

he bites down on the inside of his cheek, frustration and helplessness welling up inside of him. he hates the thought of ever causing you such pain, especially by abandoning you and gojo. it's an outcome he could never even fathom.

he lets out a slow breath, trying to maintain his composure as he replies, “i would never do that.” his tone is firm, almost urgent, as if he’s trying to convince you as much as himself.

“i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to gently stroke your hair.

gojo watches quietly from his spot on the couch, his eyes flickering to geto. he can sense the mix of irritation and helplessness that geto is feeling, both at the idea of being the source of your pain and his inability to ease your distress.

geto’s mind races, trying to find the right words to say. he knows that just saying he wouldn’t do that isn’t enough to erase the emotional scars from the nightmare. “i’m right here,” he repeats, his voice softer now as he presses his lips against the top of your head. “i’m not going to leave you… i promise.”

you continue to cry softly, your breaths shaky as the remnants of the nightmare still cling to you. geto’s words bring some comfort, but the fear lingers, and you can’t stop the tears from falling. he holds you close, feeling the weight of your pain, and his heart aches to see you like this.

he gently pulls your face away from his shoulder, his large hands cupping your wet cheeks with care. his thumbs brush against your skin, wiping away the tears that stream down your face. his dark eyes are filled with concern and love as he gazes into yours. “look at me,” he whispers, his voice steady but tender. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

your lower lip quivers as you meet his gaze, still feeling the sting of the dream. “it felt so real, suguru,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i lost you.”

geto’s heart clenches at your words, the fear and pain in your voice like a dagger stabbing through his chest. he hates the thought of you feeling even a second of uncertainty or doubt.

he keeps his hands on your face, his gaze never waivering from yours, as he replies, “it was just a nightmare, okay? i’ll always be here with you. i swear.” he slowly leans in, gently pressing his lips against your forehead, as if to kiss away your fears and worries.

geto draws back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “i won’t let anything happen to you, and i’m damn sure i won’t ever leave you.” he repeats, his voice low and firm. “i promise.”

he holds your gaze for a moment, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jawline, before looking over to gojo, who’s quietly watching from the side. gojo gives him a small nod, a mix of worry and support in his eyes.

geto’s hands slowly move from your cheeks to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair in a soothing gesture. he holds you closer still, as if he’s trying to shield you from the world and all its horrors.

gojo silently observes the two of you from the couch, his usual smirk replaced with a serious expression. he can see the pain and worry etched on geto’s face, and he can sense the turmoil in your heart. he knows how tightly the two of you are bound together, and it pains him to see you both suffering from a mere dream.

“i won’t ever let that happen, baby, he didn’t even get a chance to think about living us before i smack some sense into his head, do you hear me?” gojo softly asks, hoping his words get through your pretty little head and the amidst cloud of nightmare.

geto shoots gojo a grateful glance, appreciating the reassurance and support. he knows that your mind being eased by both of them helps a lot more than just his word alone.

he focuses his attention on you, his hands still gently cradling your head. he can feel the tension slowly start to ease from your trembling body, and that small sign of improvement gives him some relief. “hey,” he murmurs, shifting to pull you even closer, until your face is buried into his neck. “you’re safe, you’re okay.”

you feel geto’s fingers gently combing through your hair, the repetitive motion soothing your nerves little by little. his arms wrap around you more tightly, his body shielding you from everything, just as you needed in this moment. the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours helps you regain some composure, though the lingering fear still weighs on your mind.

gojo’s voice reaches you, soft but firm, and you lift your head slightly to glance over at him. his words bring a sense of reassurance, his usual playful energy now replaced with sincerity. the thought of him smacking some sense into geto if he ever tried to leave brings a small, albeit shaky, smile to your face. you know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but there's also a seriousness in his tone that makes you feel safe.

“okay..” you manage to whisper, your voice still trembling but less fragile than before. you nod slowly, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. the nightmare is fading now, replaced by the warmth of their presence. with each inhale, you feel the fear dissipating, and with each exhale, you focus on the reality that you're here, with them.

“i know it was just a dream,” you murmur, your voice gaining a little more strength. “it’s just… it felt so real.” your fingers clutch the fabric of geto’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. “i just can’t stop thinking about it and it makes me upset.”

geto listens to your words quietly, his hand continuing to stroke through your hair, grounding you back to reality. he hates how your mind is still stuck on the nightmare, the fear and anxiety clinging to you like a shadow. he runs his fingers through your hair again, trying to soothe you further. “i know, i know. it’s okay. nightmares can feel so real sometimes.”

he pauses, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “i wish i could take the memories of that dream away from you, but all i can do for now is tell you that it wasn't real. i'm right here, and i'm not going anywhere.”

he tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, his voice soft as he replies, “you’re safe. i’m here. it was just a dream,” he repeats, his words a soothing mantra, as if trying to imprint them onto your heart. he turns his attention to gojo, silently asking him with a look to add some comfort as well.

gojo pushes himself off the couch and walks over to the two of you. he crouches down in front of you, his cerulean eyes meeting your tear-filled eyes gently. his hand reaches out for yours, taking it in a firm yet compassionate grip.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his voice low and comforting as he speaks. “i don’t know what you saw in that nightmare, but suguru’s right. you’re safe and sound right now, in the real world. it was just a product of your imagination, nothing more.”

gojo continues, his voice soothing as he tries to erase the remnants of your nightmare from your mind. “and i know, it’s hard to shake off the fear and anxiety after waking up from a nightmare, but it wasn’t real. it’s okay to feel shaken, but i promise you, nothing in that nightmare is going to come true. geto and i are here with you, always will be, and we’ll do anything to keep you safe, okay?”

you look into gojo’s cerulean eyes as he speaks, his words washing over you like a calming wave. his hand in yours feels warm and steady, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you’re no longer trapped in the nightmare. his voice is soothing, full of reassurance, and it helps ease the tension in your chest.

you take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and then slowly release it. the trembling in your hands begins to subside as you listen to him, the fear starting to melt away with each word. “okay,” you whisper, your voice soft but more steady than before. you give him a small nod, trusting in both him and geto to keep you safe, knowing they would never let anything happen to you.

gojo gives you a small, comforting smile, squeezing your hand once more before letting go. “that's my girl,” he says softly, his usual playful tone creeping back in, just enough to bring you a sense of normalcy.

you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the weight of your fear finally lifting. their presence, their words, their love—it all grounds you in this moment, and you know, deep down, that you’re safe. “thank you,” you murmur again, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for both of them. you close your eyes briefly, taking another deep breath, this one much calmer than before.

geto holds you tightly, his hand still in your hair, and gojo rests a hand on your shoulder, the both of them ensuring you feel surrounded by warmth, love, and protection. “we’ve got you,” geto whispers against your hair, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

once both he and gojo are satisfied that you’re slowly coming down from the nightmare, geto leans back against the couch, pulling you with him until you’re snuggled against his chest. he keeps his arm wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he’s trying to shield you from any remaining shadows of the nightmare.

gojo returns to his spot on the couch, collapsing onto the cushion, but his eyes remain on you, watching intently to make sure you’re truly okay.

geto continues to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and comforting as he looks down at you. he feels the tension in your body slowly dissipating, the fear and anxiety fading away little by little. “try to get some more sleep, okay? you need to rest. one bad dream shouldn’t dictate your whole day.” he says quietly, his voice low.

you shake your head gently, pressing closer to geto, the thought of going back to sleep still unsettling. “i don’t want to sleep,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. the fear of falling back into another nightmare lingers, making the idea of rest feel impossible.

geto’s hand stills for a moment, and he glances down at you with concern, his brows knitting together. “you’ve been burning out from work, you’re tired,” he says softly, “you need rest.”

but you just shake your head again, clinging to the warmth of his embrace. “i don’t want to go through that again,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice evident. “not right now.”

geto's grip on you tightens as he hears the vulnerability in your voice. he understands your fear of reliving the nightmare, but he also knows that avoiding rest will worsen it. he bites his lip, trying to think of what to say to ease your fears.

he looks over to gojo for assistance. gojo, who’s been quietly observing the two of you, sits up a little straighter, his expression becoming serious again. “alright, we’ll stay with you. we’re not going anywhere. you don’t have to go back to sleep, but you can just rest here with us then, okay?”

you nod softly in response, your body beginning to relax just a little more in geto’s arms. the reassurance from both of them is enough to help you feel safe, even if the thought of sleeping still scares you. you hum softly in acknowledgment, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you feel gojo’s presence near.

gojo leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a second, offering comfort through the simple touch. the warmth from his kiss spreads through you, easing the last remnants of fear.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but full of trust. you lean back into geto’s embrace, feeling the strength and safety in his hold, while gojo’s calming presence at your side brings you peace.

geto squeezes you tighter, wrapping his arm around you securely as you lean into him. his chin rests on the top of your head, his breath warm against your hair. the sight of gojo pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead makes his heart ache, knowing how scared you were moments ago.

gojo keeps his eyes on you, watching your breath even out little by little, and the anxiety slowly leaving your body. he reaches out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, providing a subtle reassurance.

“we’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low and gentle.

after crying your heart out from the nightmare that had shaken you to your core, you spent the rest of the day trailing geto wherever he went, almost as if you couldn’t bear to let him out of your sight. the nightmare, though just a figment of your imagination, had left a heavy weight in your chest, one that only seemed to lighten when you were close to him.

now, you, geto, and gojo are sitting on the couch, the soft hum of the tv in the background as you lean against gojo’s chest. his arm is draped around you lazily, while geto sits at the other end, relaxed but aware of your every movement. the comfort of being sandwiched between the two of them has kept the lingering unease at bay for most of the day.

suddenly, you feel geto shift beside you, and when he begins to stand, your body tenses up. you sit upright quickly, eyes wide with concern as you look at him. “where are you going?” you ask, your voice betraying the anxiety that still lingers from the nightmare.

your voice laced with a quiet urgency, unable to mask the worry that creeps back into your tone. the idea of him leaving your sight, even for just a moment, stirs up the unease from earlier.

geto stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a gentle smile, one that’s meant to reassure you. “just going to the bathroom,” he says softly, his tone calm and understanding. “i’ll be right back, i promise.”

gojo tightens his arm around you slightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “he’s not running off, baby,” gojo teases lightly, though there’s a hint of concern in his voice as he looks down at you. “besides, if he takes too long, i’ll drag him back for you.” despite gojo’s playful tone, your eyes stay on geto, still uneasy. but you nod slowly, watching him as he disappears down the hall.

once geto is in the bathroom and out of earshot, gojo drops the teasing tone and turns his attention fully to you. he studies your face silently for a moment, taking in the unease that still clings to you. he can see the way your eyes follow geto’s every move when he’s around, the anxiety etched onto your features whenever he leaves your sight.

he sighs softly, his hand continuing to rub circles on your back in a calm, comforting motion. “you're still rattled from that nightmare, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

you turn to gojo, shaking your head lightly as if trying to convince both him and yourself. “i’m not,” you murmur, your voice soft but unconvincing. though you rest your head back against his chest, the tension in your body hasn’t fully disappeared. despite your denial, your eyes still flicker toward the bathroom door every few moments, watching, waiting.

gojo can easily tell that you're lying, and he lets out a quiet exhale as he continues to rub circles on your back. “you are,” he counters softly, his voice free from any playful tone, no hint of teasing at all. “we both know you are, and there’s no shame in it.”

he glances at the bathroom door and then back at you. “you’re on edge every time he leaves the room, and you’ve been like this all day.”

gojo pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to address your uneasiness. you keep your head on his chest, avoiding his gaze, clearly still trying to convince yourself that you're okay. but he can feel the tension in your body, the way you're silently clenching and unclenching your fists.

he runs his hand through your hair gently, brushing a strand of it behind your ear. gojo’s lips twitch in a small, knowing smile, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment. he can see through your weak attempt at convincing him that you're not still affected by the nightmare.

he wraps his arm around you tighter, pulling you closer against his chest. “you know, getting another nightmare is pretty unlikely. the chances are very low,” he says, trying to alleviate your fears.

you shake your head slightly against gojo’s chest, your voice barely a whisper as you reply, “i still can’t forget about it.” the unease in your tone is unmistakable, and the way your fists clench unconsciously gives away how much the nightmare still lingers in your mind.

despite his comforting presence and logical reassurance, the images from the nightmare are too vivid, too real to easily brush aside. “it’s terrible..” you admit softly, your eyes once again darting toward the bathroom door, waiting for geto to return, as if his presence alone can chase away the remnants of the dream.

gojo looks down at you, a pang of sympathy and concern in his eyes. he sees the way you're still on edge, your fists clenching and unclenching, your eyes darting to the bathroom door. he knows this is more than just a bad dream, it’s a lingering fear that's hard to shake off.

he runs his fingers through your hair gently, trying to soothe you. “i know it’s hard to forget,” he says softly, “but you’e awake now. that nightmare isn’t real. you’re here with me and geto, you’re safe. there he is,” he murmur the moment his eyes caught geto walk out of the bathroom.

geto returns from the bathroom, immediately noticing your tense demeanor and the way you're still glued to gojo’s side. he walks over and takes a seat next to you, a small frown tugging at his lips as he takes in your anxious expression. he reaches out and puts a hand gently on your shoulder. “still rattled?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod silently, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. the nightmare still feels fresh in your mind, leaving you feeling vulnerable and shaken. geto’s touch brings you a small measure of reassurance, but it’s not enough to fully calm your racing heart.

geto chuckles softly, his expression softening as he watches you shift in gojo’s embrace, your eyes still filled with a lingering unease. "come here," he murmurs, opening his arms wide. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes, but the warmth in his voice makes it clear that his intention is to comfort you.

without hesitation, you move from gojo’s chest and slip into geto’s arms, almost instinctively. he wraps them around you, pulling you close, his hands immediately resuming their familiar, soothing touch. “there you go,” he murmurs into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. his voice is light, and you can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

then, with a small smirk, he adds teasingly, “you really are a crybaby, you know that?” despite the words, there’s nothing but affection in his tone.

you can’t help but let out a small, half-hearted laugh through your lingering nerves, burying your face in his shoulder. “i’m not,” you mumble, the warmth of his embrace finally starting to chip away at the cold fear still gripping your heart.

gojo watches as you move into geto's arms, his expression a mix of amusement and understanding. he sees the way you immediately melt into geto’s touch, the tension slowly slipping away. as you let out a small laugh, he lets out a small scoff, a smile on his face. “yes, you are,” he says, joining in the teasing. “but it’s alright, we have all night to soothe your fragile little heart.”

geto laughs softly at gojo's words, his arms tightening around you momentarily. “he’s right, you know,” he murmurs, his voice soft against your hair. “you really are quite sensitive when it comes to nightmares. but don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe and sound all night long.”

his hands continue to run soothingly over your back as he looks over at gojo. “you better watch yourself. you’re just as soft as she is, you know.”

you grumble in response, your face still buried in geto’s shoulder. you can feel his laugh reverberate through his chest, and his hands continue to move gently over your back, soothing and comforting.

“you two are such a jerk,” you murmur, but there’s no real venom in your words. geto just laughs again, pulling you even closer into his embrace. “and you’re a baby,” he teases again, ruffling your hair.

gojo grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “aww, don’t deny it, you're a total baby.” he teasingly pokes your side, making you squirm in protest. geto chuckles, holding on to you firmly. “yeah, that’s right. you’re our little baby. all soft and sensitive, just like a fragile little flower.”

“stop moving too much,” you whine, trying to keep up as geto moves around the house with his usual calm, deliberate pace. it’s been hours of him finding little things to do, whether straightening up, moving a book from one shelf to another, or inspecting something that didn’t need attention at all.

he glances over his shoulder at you, amusement dancing in his eyes as he chuckles. “you’re the one who keeps following me,” he teases, but there’s a knowing warmth behind his words. he’s been doing this on purpose—giving you something to focus on, keeping you busy enough to slowly pull you away from the lingering nightmare.

you can tell what he’s up to, but you don’t mind. in fact, it’s comforting to follow him, even if your legs are starting to get tired. each step behind him feels like a reminder that he’s there, solid and real, and the nightmare is fading further into the background.

he pauses for a moment, turning to face you fully with a smirk. “i’m just making sure you tire yourself out enough to sleep tonight and stop you from all those nightmares you had,” he says lightly, his eyes softening as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

you groan, feeling the exhaustion creeping in as you follow geto once again, watching him head toward the kitchen. “you’re so annoying,” you mutter, though there’s no real bite behind your words. he’s clearly enjoying himself, finding amusement in your persistence.

geto just chuckles again, unfazed, as he steps into the kitchen where gojo is sitting comfortably at the dining table, leisurely munching on a donut. gojo watches the whole scene unfold with an amused grin, his eyes flicking between the two of you. "you really are wasting all your energy following him around like a lost puppy,” gojo comments, his voice teasing but not unkind. he takes another bite of his donut, leaning back in his chair like he’s enjoying a front-row seat to the show.

“maybe if someone would stop walking around, i wouldn’t have to,” you huff, shooting a playful glare at geto as he busies himself with something on the counter. “toruuu, you could help me, you know,” you say, taking a seat beside him, though even as you speak, you know that’s unlikely. he’s perfectly content watching you wear yourself out.

gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you following geto around like a lost puppy. he knows exactly why geto’s doing this, and he’s thoroughly enjoying the show. “aww, look at you being the devoted little follower,” he teases between bites of his donut. “just keep following him like that and you’ll wear yourself out in no time.”

geto, who’s puttering around in the kitchen, can’t help but chuckle at your comment. he shoots a glance over his shoulder at you, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “and miss this entertaining spectacle? it’s not every day i get to have a cute little puppy trailing behind me, constantly at my beck and call,” he teases back.

he knows that you’re not exactly happy about being tired out, but he’s enjoying the fact that you’re willingly following him around. it’s like a game to him, seeing how long you’ll keep up the tag-along. but he also wants to help you shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare.

gojo lets out a small pout of mock disappointment as you steal his donut, his initial protest quickly giving way to a look of amusement. “how rude,” he says, feigning hurt.

he watches as you happily bite into the stolen treat, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’re such a little gremlin, you know that?” he teases, knowing full well that he doesn’t mind sharing, especially if it puts a smile on your face. geto watches the whole scene unfold from a distance, a grin on his face as he continues tending to whatever he’s doing in the kitchen.

geto can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest as he watches you banter playfully with gojo, the tension and unease from earlier slowly melting away. he continues his tasks in the kitchen, allowing himself a moment to simply observe the two of you interacting.

after a moment, he speaks up again. “you know, if you’re done eating gojo’s donut, maybe you should come back here. i’m not finished with you yet.” there’s a hint of tease in his voice, even as he keeps his focus on the task before him.

you shake your head playfully, reaching for another donut with a smug grin. “i think i’m good here, actually,” you say, biting into the donut with exaggerated satisfaction. “besides, the nightmare’s already gone, and satoru’s donuts taste so good.”

gojo chuckles, watching you pilfer another donut from the box. “you’re a little thief,” he teases, not bothering to stop you. he doesn’t really mind sharing his food, especially if it means getting to see you look so satisfied and relaxed.

geto scoffs at your response, his eyes narrowed with playful irritation. “don’t think you’re getting off that easily. i’ve got plans for you.” he glances over his shoulder at you, a smirk on his lips. “and besides, i’m not done yet. you still have some energy left to burn.”

you hum contentedly, still munching on the donut in your hand. glancing at the box, then back at gojo, you grin mischievously. “i call shotgun on the oreo,” you announce, pointing toward the donut with a playful smirk, even while taking another bite of the one you’re eating.

gojo rolls his eyes, his expression a mix of playful annoyance and amusement. “you’re really going to finish all my donuts, aren’t you?” he says, knowing full well that resisting your charm is a futile task.

before he can respond further, geto calls out from the kitchen, his voice laced with both warmth and command. “oh, come on. quit flirting with each other and get your ass over here.”

you flash gojo a smug grin, enjoying the way his face twists in mock annoyance. “too bad for you, i called shotgun first,” you say, your voice dripping with playful confidence as you take another indulgent bite of your donut. the satisfaction of winning this little battle with him adds a bit more sweetness to the treat in your hand.

you glance over at geto, who’s been quietly observing the entire exchange. with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, you reluctantly place the donut back on the table. “fine,” you grumble under your breath, acting as though you’ve just made the biggest sacrifice of your life. dragging your feet a little for dramatic effect, you slowly make your way toward geto, still pouting as you walk.

gojo watches as you saunter over to geto, unable to hide the small smile forming on his face. he shakes his head, amused by your exaggerated show of reluctance.

geto, on the other hand, looks far from sympathetic as he watches you approach with a small chuckle, his arms crossed over his chest. “oh, spare me the drama. you’re not the one making a sacrifice here, princess.” he smirks, clearly enjoying your exaggerated expression.

“you’re such a diva,” he teases, rolling his eyes as you approach. he’s clearly enjoying your bratty behavior, but he’s not about to let you get off scot-free. “now, come on. stop moving so slow,” he says, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you closer to him.

he guides you to a spot next to him, a countertop filled with various ingredients laid out in front of you. “since you’re so keen on stealing everyone’s food, maybe you can put your thieving skills to use in the kitchen,” he says with a wry smile, his grip on your arm still gentle but firm.

he releases you and steps back, giving you a moment to take in the array of items on the counter. “now, you’re going to help make some sweets,” he orders, his voice soft but authoritative. “and no complaints or diva moments, understood?”

you let out a dramatic sigh, letting your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world rested on them. your face adopts a lazy, bored expression, and you roll your eyes at geto’s suggestion. “i’m still rattled from the nightmare,” you say with an exaggerated pout, the hint of a lie in your voice. in truth, it’s more about feeling lazy than shaken up. “i’m not allowed to do such a thing while still traumatized,” you admit, eyeing towards the remaining treats with a longing look.

geto lets out a scoff, the sound a mix of fondness and irritation. he knows you too well to be fooled by your act. “oh, please. don’t try to pull a fast one, princess. i know you’re not that rattled. you’re just being a brat.”

he takes a step closer to you, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. his eyes hold a mixture of warmth and challenge. “no more excuses. you’re helping me make sweets, end of story.”

he glances over at the remaining treats, a knowing smirk on his lips. “and don’t even think about going for those donuts again. you’ve had plenty.”

he releases your chin and steps back, gesturing to the array of ingredients on the counter. “now, here’s the plan. pay close attention,” he says, his tone commanding and authoritative. “i’ll guide you through the steps, but don’t even think about slacking off or complaining.”

you narrow your eyes at gojo, who’s blissfully enjoying the very oreo donut you just claimed as your own. his smug smirk only adds fuel to the fire of your annoyance. you cross your arms, shooting him a playful glare that says everything—this is definitely a low blow.

with a dramatically heavy sigh, you lean back slightly, feigning exasperation. “ugh, fine,” you concede, rolling your eyes for added effect. you shoot one last pout in gojo's direction before begrudgingly turning back to the array of ingredients laid out in front of you, secretly hoping you might enjoy the process despite your reluctance.

gojo chuckles, thoroughly enjoying your reaction to his sneaky donut heist. his smirk only gets wider, clearly amused by your grumpy display.

geto watches the exchange, his expression a mix of annoyance and affection. he shakes his head at your theatrical display of reluctance, clearly unamused by your exaggerated behavior.

he steps closer to you, his voice low and firm. “enough with the pouts. you’re not getting out of this, princess. you’re going to help me make these sweets, and you’re going to do it happily. got it?”

you roll your eyes dramatically, unable to help the annoyance bubbling up inside you. with a sarcastic huff, you mutter, “yes, dad,” the words slipping out effortlessly. it’s a phrase you’ve used countless times before whenever geto gets all strict and bossy with you.

gojo barks out a laugh, the sound echoing through the room. he can’t help but find the whole situation hilarious.

geto’s response, however, is far less amused. his eyes narrow slightly at your sarcastic comment, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “oh, princess, don’t even start. you’re really living up to the brat name tonight,” he scoffs.

“if you’re going to act like a petulant child, i can treat you like one,” geto threatens, his voice stern and commanding, his gaze locked on yours.

you mutter a half-hearted “sorry” under your breath, your face still scrunched in irritation as you grab the spatula geto handed you. the gesture feels more like a chore than a fun activity, and you can’t shake the annoyance creeping in from being forced into this situation.

geto’s unwavering gaze doesn’t let up, a mix of authority and exasperation in his eyes. it’s clear he’s not backing down, no matter how much you might want to sulk. you huff silently, resigned to your fate, and start to focus on the ingredients in front of you, trying to channel your frustration into something productive— even if it feels a bit like throwing a tantrum.

gojo watches the back-and-forth between you and geto with a stifled chuckle, clearly amused by your bratty behavior. it’s like watching two stubbornly opposing forces collide, each determined to win.

geto, on the other hand, continues to maintain his stern and commanding presence. he knows exactly how far he can push you, and he refuses to give an inch. “stop mumbling apologies and focus,” he barks, his voice a mixture of amused and expectation.

“you’re not getting out of this until you make something edible.”

the atmosphere in the kitchen is a mix of tension and challenge, as you begrudgingly begin to follow geto’s instructions on mixing the ingredients.

he watches you silently for a moment, his eyes never leaving your form. he can see the frustration and irritation still etched on your face, but he also knows that deep down, you’re enjoying this, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it. “less complaining, more stirring,” he comments with a smirk, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re following his orders.

[authorhjk1]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck9O9OgyB30/?igsh=MTY4dWRjNWpwM2l4dw==

https://www.instagram.com/p/CnWy9qIJo_-/?igsh=bGp1d3htc3dzaDdw

https://www.instagram.com/p/Cngxuq_p7j1/?igsh=MWl1cnAxZzAyYWkwOA==

https://www.instagram.com/p/C1_8a0Wpo_D/?igsh=ajg4ZjZ1eHJ5MTk1

Some of eunha black dress, feel free to pick any, she looks amazing

Black

(Eunha X Male Reader)

You kiss Eunha's neck, while listening to Umji. The latter is currently working on making dinner, while Eunha is struggling not to whine and complain.

She deserves this punishment. You didn't expect her to be such a naughty girl, but Umji caught her in the act and told you all about it, with a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Are you already done cutting that?"

You motion towards the vegetables, which Umji put to the side as she is now turning on the stove.

"I am."

Umji turns around, her eyes focused on Eunha's face.

"I like it thick."

Her whispered words make the poor girl let out a small mewl. Your left hand keeps holding onto her chest, giving her tits occasional squeezes through the black fabric. Your right is lying on her center, giving her exposed clit some lazy rubs.

But the most agonizing part for Eunha is your dick. She can feel it between her thighs. Your slow, shallow thrusts have her dripping wet. But you aren't fucking her pussy. No. This is her punishment. And her thighs definitely rival her pussy in tightness and smoothness. Especially when her slick is slightly lubricating her skin.

Another playful bite of yours makes Eunha gasp. Umji chuckles with an evil glint in her eyes. You feel how her full thighs squeeze your cock. Your thrusting makes your own toes curl. But you would never admit to Eunha how great her thighs feel. If you would, she would start wearing skirts and shorts that would expose them completely. Even in public.

For a moment, you like the idea. Always having a full view of her legs would definitely improve your day to day life. But then again, you'd have the urge to squeeze and dig your fingers into them 24/7. Or you would fuck them, whenever you want. Which brings us back to the here and now.

You kiss Eunha's neck, while watching Umji. The latter has just dumped the noodles into the pot with the boiling water in it.

"O-Oppa, please..."

Her desperate whine makes you smile.

"Umji told me how much you love watching us. I can't believe you actually hid a camera in her room, just so you can touch yourself, while I make her my toy."

"Oppa... I-I will be a good toy too. Pretty please?"

Despite Umji's back facing you, you can guess where her free hand has gone, while the other is holding onto the pot. You give one of Eunha's mounds a rougher squeeze, which makes her gasp.

"I still can't believe you spied on us."

You raise your hips a little. Your next thrust penetrates the gap between her thighs dangerously close to her pussy. Her hitched breath shows you that she is very aware of what you just did.

"J-Just because I love you so much, oppa."

"Do you really?"

With her back turned towards you, you can't see her face, but Eunha nods.

"Yes. I just wish you'd use me more."

Her desperate, almost hurt tone, gives you a slight feeling of sympathy. She is right. You've been hanging out with the others quite often recently.

"Alright then. The two of us will spend some alone time after dinner."

A happy squeal makes Umji turn around.

"But oppa! I want you too."

You let out a sigh. Sometimes, this is harder than it looks. So you should focus on the task at hand for now.

"We will arrange something later."

With that, you take a hold of Eunha's waist with both hands. You see her placing her own on the surface of the counter she is staying behind. Your thrusts between her thighs become faster. Harder. You've had enough for now anyway. The slow stuff isn't for you at all.

Soon, you're actually fucking her thighs. You make her body rock back and forth. Her pussy keeps her thighs lubricated, her juices steadily flowing down in small streams. The clapping of your hips against her ass fills the room, drowning out the boiling water.

Umji hass given up on cooking dinner. She is watching you using Eunha's thighs for your own pleasure, while shamelessly playing with herself underneath her skirt.

"Damn, Eunha. I'd love to fuck these all day."

You growl into her ear, your fingers now digging into them at the front. Eunha whines. This is way too much torture for her. How could she take this? Your cock almost grazing her lips, but not plunging into her needy cunt?

"C-Can you....just the tip?"

Her desperate tone and that pathetic question makes you laugh at her. You give her cheek a kiss.

"Later. This is still punishment."

But you know that this punishment won't be going on for much longer. Eunha's thighs are just in a league of their own.

"I'm gonna cum, Eunha."

You whisper into her ear, making her shudder.

"Yes please, oppa. Use me as a canvas. Please. My thighs..."

Her eyes are closing as Eunha feels your thrusts becoming harsher and faster. She feels your cock throbbing between her legs.

And then, you stop right between them. Right underneath her center.

"Fuck."

Another growl into her ear makes her gasp as your cum paints her thighs. Her smooth skin is now all sticky as you keep thrusting between the gap of her thighs. You go slow again, riding out your orgasm. Your bodyweight presses her small body against the counter.

"Thank you for punishing me, oppa."

[glittervame]

We're not done yet doll

"She said she wanted 5 guys I'm not talking bout burgers, I pull up with my friends that pussy get murdered...Jk I'm not into trains"

^It's been poping up on my tiktok fyp and I wanted to do something about it

Sorry for any inconsistency throughout the story or the spelling errors. Lord, please forgive me...

Smut, Cheating, spitroast

The party was in full swing, the music pounding through the walls and the scent of sweat and alcohol thick in the air. Y/n was wearing a short, black dress that hugged her curves and showed off her long, toned legs. Her hair was loose and flowing, a hint of rebellion in the way she tossed her head to the beat.

She moved from group to group, laughing and flirting with the boys she knew from school. It was easy to forget that just a few hours ago, she had been with her boyfriend, the sweet and loyal guy from Ravenclaw.

He's a really nice guy, just so sincere, He takes her out on these pretty little dates in Hogsmeade, and he's good in bed too. There should be no reason really why she's at this party; where she should've been is curled up next to her boyfriend watching a romcom or studying for her ancient ruins test that was coming up on Friday.

But tonight, she was here with Mattheo, Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Lorenzo, all of whom seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. From the small touches on the length of her back to the grinding while they were dancing.

As the night wore on, the alcohol flowed more freely, and the lines between desire and responsibility began to blur. Y/n found herself getting more touchy than she should've been. It was like she was in a haze, unable to control how her body responded to their touch. It also didn't help that they were keeping her stocked to the brim with alcohol, never letting it hit the middle line of the red solo cup in her hands.

Finally, in a dark corner of the room, she found herself alone with Mattheo. His hands were rough as they traveled up her thighs, and she could feel his arousal pressed against her. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She moaned into his mouth, arching her back as he undid her dress, revealing her black lace bra and matching thong. His fingers found the wetness between her legs, and he groaned against her lips.

"I've wanted this for so long," he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. She could feel the heat building inside her as well, a desperate ache that only he seemed to be able to satisfy. His fingers slipped inside her, and she cried out, her body trembling with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on, wanting more.

Mattheo's fingers found her clit, and his thumb began to tease her mercilessly. She cried out, her body arching off the ground, and any thought of her boyfriend disappeared. She was lost in the sensation, her whole world reduced to the feel of Mattheo's fingers moving inside her, the taste of his lips on hers, the sound of their harsh breathing filling her ears.

As she neared the peak of her orgasm, she felt a hand slip under her dress and caress her bare ass. Startled, she glanced down to see Draco grinning up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Tryna share your pretty doll Cousin?" He purrs, his fingers rubbing against her nipples through her bra. She gasps, her body tensing as a second orgasm washes over her.

"D-Draco…" she manages to stammer out, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart. His lips curve into a wicked grin and he leans in, capturing her mouth in a rough, demanding kiss. His tongue invades her mouth, tangling with hers as he continues to touch her, his fingers never ceasing their motion. She moans into his kiss, her hips bucking against Mattheos hand, as he curls his fingers.

"Lean your head back pretty girl" Theo asks, his voice low and husky. She does as he asks, feeling his warm hands against her neck as he guides her head to his cock, "Open up" he commands, and she opens her mouth, taking him in as he thrusts his hips forward, his hard length filling her mouth. Her tongue swirls around him, tasting him, feeling him down her throat.

She lets out loud squeal as Mattheos hands are replaced by Blaises throbing cock. He pushes inside her roughly, his hips slamming against hers in a brutal rhythm. It feels so good, so overwhelming, that she can hardly breathe. Her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry red lines behind as she arches her back to meet his thrusts. She can feel herself building towards another orgasm, the pressure building inside her, the need growing more and more intense with every thrust.

As if sensing her imminent release, Lorenzo's hands slip down her body and begin to stroke her wet folds. His fingers are soft and expert, and they send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She moans around Theo's cock, feeling him twitch in response. Her orgasm builds, cresting higher and higher, until it breaks over her in a powerful wave. She cries out, her body shuddering with release as she comes all over Lorenzo's hands and Blaise's cock, a white ring forming at the base of it.

Her muscles relax and go lax, but they don't stop moving, overstimulating her, her breath comes in ragged gasps, her vision blurred with pleasure and desire. Draco's soft hands have turned into his mouth on her breasts biting and sucking, leaving red bite marks along her skin, little dots of blood coming from the wounds.

Theo growls, his hips bucking roughly as he comes, filling her mouth with his hot seed. She swallows eagerly, her tongue working to clean his length as he pulls away, watching her with dark, hungry eyes. "That's a good girl" He praises as he watches you, patting your cheek.

Blaise's thrusts become slopy as he nears his own release,p his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His cock twitches inside her, the head brushing against something deep inside, making her shiver with pleasure. "So close…" he groans, his hips slamming harder against hers.

Lorenzo's fingers are still moving, circling her clit, teasing her, keeping her on the edge of another orgasm. She arches her back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she feels herself starting to slip over the edge once more. "Please…" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sounds of their bodies moving together.

Draco leans forward, capturing one of her nipples between his lips and sucking hard. She cries out, her hips bucking against Blaise as he continues to thrust inside her. The sensation of being filled, of being wanted and desired like this, is almost too much to bear. Her body trembles on the brink of release, her muscles tense and coiled tightly.

Blaise's eyes meet hers in the mirror, and she can see the lust burning bright in his gaze. "That's it, baby," he growls, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Let go for me." His words send a shiver down her spine, and with a final thrust, he comes inside her, his body tensing as he releases his seed.

She feels it deep inside, and with a cry of pleasure, her body finally gives in to the overwhelming sensations, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of bliss. Her nails scratch at Blaise's back, her legs clamp shut around his waist, her entire being focused on the feeling of him moving inside her. Her body shudders with pleasure, her muscles trembling as she comes apart in his arms.

Her body relaxes, exhausted. A laugh echos through the room, "We're not done yet doll," Mattheo says, unbuckling his belt, "I haven't even had my turn yet"

Theo tag list -Theo Is in it does that count?

@ladyblablabla

@idontknowwhattosaylmao

Comment if you want to be added to a tag list

[aretaix]

afterimage

They say there’s a ghost on the school’s rooftop.

​Read on Ao3

Topics: Original characters, one shot, f/f, hurt comfort, magical realism

CW: Suicide, implied suicidal ideation, suicide attempt that is not completed, implied bullying

Word count: 1.4k

There was a story at my school. They said my school was haunted – some generic story of a girl who died decades ago. It would change depending on whom you asked: some said she committed suicide, and others said she died when a fire broke out at the school… it wasn’t ever consistent. I knew that there was a kernel of truth in all of them, though. All rumors have at least one true thing.

I learned that yes, there was a fire at the school. No, there were no suicides on school grounds that were recorded. There were records of mortalities, but no names, just numbers. Some of the dates lined up. That was enough to satisfy my curiosity.

The rituals to get her to appear were all different too. Some said you had to wear a red ribbon around your pinky and cut the ribbon when you get to the roof, and others said you had to walk up the stairs with a mouth full of saltwater. Some said you had to put your hair up or else she’d light it on fire.

Since I wasn’t sure which would work, I decided to do all of them at the same time. I tied my hair up and emptied salt packets into a plastic bottle, the emptied packets drifting lazily to the bathroom floor like the petals of a dying flower. Tepid tap water flowed from the faucet into the bottle then over my hands, drenching the ribbon tied around my finger. I wondered briefly if that would affect the ritual, but I shrugged it off since these legends were never that specific. Rumors were more about the intent than the actions. Once it was full, I capped it, shook the bottle, and watched the salt dissolve into the clear liquid.

I’d stayed after school hours before, but I had to be more quiet than usual this time. Most people didn’t stay after on Fridays. And besides…I didn’t want people asking why I was drinking bathroom tap water.

With the bottle pressed to my lips, I filled my mouth with saltwater and took care not to swallow any. I poured it in until my cheeks poked out like pufferfish. Since I took extra care so no one would notice me and so I wouldn’t spill a drop of water, ascending the stairs took forever.

Once I reached the top, I pushed the heavy door leading out onto the rooftop open. After glancing around quickly, I undid the ribbon on my pinky and waited.

“Y’know, if you’re trying to look ridiculous, you’re doing a really good job at it”. Startled, I spun to look at the speaker with my cheeks still full of water. A lanky girl leaned against the wall behind the door, right where a less observant person wouldn’t see. We locked eyes… and I wasn’t sure whether to swallow or spit out the water. But as if reading my mind, she said, “…You can spit it out, you know,” the girl spoke while a mischievous smile crept onto the ends of her mouth.

I spat it out, though her laughter made it feel like I was vomiting in slow motion. Her eyes remained fixed on me while I wiped my face with my sleeve and spat out the salt sticking to my tongue. She didn’t look like a ghost, at least not at first glance. Long and messy brown hair draped over her shoulders. Her hazel eyes reflected the sunset’s reddish light in an almost unearthly way – as if she was staring right into my heart.

“Are you the–”

“The ghost? If you want to call me that, sure.” She stood straight and walked towards me like a curious animal. “You’re the first person not to run off screaming to tell her friends.” She inched closer and closer, her golden eyes shimmering with unknowable intent. I rubbed my damp hands against my skirt and gripped it tight to hide my trembling.

“I just wanted to find out the truth,” I almost said, I don’t have any friends which wouldn’t have been a lie… but it’s not something I wanted to tell the not-ghost not-human girl.

“The truth? Hah, I think I’m better left as a rumor barely clinging onto life,” she laughed frostily. Though, it’s nice to not have someone running off, for once.” Her fingers combed through her hair, and she looked at me again with those piercing eyes. “…But… you don’t look like one of those goth occult-y types that usually come up here to harass me.” Curiosity colored her words, even if it wasn’t an obvious question.

“…I was wondering if there was someone up here to stop me.” The words flowed naturally from my lips. I felt like the air around her was pulling my feelings out of my chest, spilling them for everyone to see.

“Stop you?” She asked.

My eyes darted away from that unshakeable gaze. I knew that if I kept going, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

Silence filled the space between us, punctuated by the chirps and coos of birds flying overhead. I walked away to the edge of the rooftop. A wire fence was the only barrier that stood between me and the ground, which lay far, far below. The shadows’ crosshatch pattern covered the whole roof in a cloak as if its solidness was dissolving in the early evening shadow. Faint footsteps approach me from behind and a hand pressed lightly on my shoulder, but I barely noticed until she started speaking again.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I can’t promise to ‘stop you’,” Her words would’ve sounded unfeeling to anyone else, but to me, they were the greatest comfort. Everyone else – the few who would listen anyway – would press me for the finest details. They’d ask as if they hadn’t already turned a blind eye towards me, all the people who would walk away when those girls cornered me, and–… no, these feelings aren’t for display here, either. My pain isn’t for anyone else’s entertainment. I turned to the spectral, yet material girl who seemed to occupy a space in between those worlds.

“But do you understand how it feels… to just be a spectacle?” I struggled to meet those burning eyes of hers, those that were filled with more vitality than my own.

“I do,” she stepped closer to the fence and put her fingers through the openings. “I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? Those goth occulty types just come up here to harass me,” her mouth twisted into a grimace.” To them, I’m nothing more than a grotesque rumor given shape. Proof of whatever fantasy they have of this school’s ‘dark secret’,” she removed her fingers which clinked against the fence as they made contact with the metal, then she looked at me. With the sunlight behind her and the shadows cast over the roof, her form melted into the darkness. “You don’t have to tell me anything now, but I’m always up here,” her expression of disdain turned into one of kindness. “It is nice to have someone that isn’t running off in fear or to tell people that ghosts are real.”

I instinctively drew closer to her. Was it pity? Sympathy? Did I feel like she was a kindred spirit? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure if she was a ghost, a demon playing a prank on me, a figment of my imagination, or someone playing along with my delusions for their amusement. But it didn’t matter, for once, I felt seen, not obligated to spell things out for someone. Cautiously, I wrapped my arms around her. I was afraid that holding her too tightly would make her shatter and disappear.

She felt intangible in my arms as if she’d disappear if I took my eyes off of her for even a second. At that moment, I took that risk and closed my eyes. Something pressed to my forehead, too soft to be a hand yet too light to be a cheek. From the warmth, I imagined it was her lips. It was too faint to be a kiss, but just enough to show she understood what I was trying to say without words. Us two spectacles were alone at last.

We stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. I was afraid that if I clung too long, she’d disappear. I pulled away from her, and my worries were confirmed. Instead of the phantom I had embraced, there was nothing there but empty air – she hadn’t even left an afterimage. Yet this instilled a strange sense of security in my heart as if I knew we’d see each other again when the time was right.

[michelle-is-writing]

Serious, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 850~

When it came to the way (Y/n) dressed, Ben never told her to change or dress in something else. It wasn't his call, and without (Y/n) having to tell him, he knew that. However, there were always three things that he favored.

The first thing was that he loved was red lipstick painted on her lips, but he loved smearing it across her face even more. The second thing was that he always loved lace covering any part of her skin - just thinking about the feeling of running his hands over it practically made him shudder. Lastly, the image of (Y/n) in a (f/c) dress always stuck to Ben's mind as well as a smile across his lips. There was something that made (Y/n) radiate happiness when she was wearing her favorite color, and Ben loved it.

So, when (Y/n) left their bathroom wearing red lipstick and a (f/c) dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves made up of the same colored lace, Ben couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Leaving his phone beside him forgotten, he watched her every move as she stopped in front of the full-length body mirror beside him and paraded around, seeing if the dress looked good on her at all angles. In that moment, his desire for her only grew. Of course, to Ben, the dress looked amazing - almost too amazing.

"How does it look?" (Y/n) asks, turning toward Ben as he sat in their room's armchair. His eyes gazing over her exposed shoulders and trailing down her lace covered arms, Ben let out a slow sigh as an attempt to calm himself. They were going to a dinner at her parent's place and there was simply not enough time for Ben to express how much he loved her in that dress - unfortunately, for him, it would be an all night affair.

There was something about this dress that was making Ben go wild. So, instead of showing how he felt, Ben said the first thing that came to his mind. "I want to rip it off of you right now," he confessed, making (Y/n) roll her eyes with a smile. Of course he would say something like that.

"Ben, seriously!" (Y/n) exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips in an exasperated motion. "Does the dress look good? Not too fat-hugging or anything?" She further asked, causing Ben to look at her with a pointed look. He hated when she said self-derogatory statements.

"I have no clue what you mean by 'fat-hugging,' my dear," Ben told her as he stood up. Sliding an arm around her to pull her close, he leaned down to her neck and pressed soft kisses to it as he continued. "You always doubt yourself in the times when you should be nothing but confident and in love with the way you look," he murmured, "Plus, I think the dress is great, but I also think your body is even better," Ben added, smirking against her soft skin as the words flowed from his mouth. His words alone made (Y/n) roll her eyes with a smile yet again.

"Ben, for once, please," she starts, turning around to face him. "I need you to tell me how you feel about the dress, not me," (Y/n) added. Since her neck was no longer able to support his head, he instead settled for resting it atop her head. This way, seriousness was still void in their conversation, and by that point, (Y/n) gave up in trying to change the mood of the conversation.

"I hate to tell you this, but you know me, and I am being serious," Ben clarified, receiving a laugh from (Y/n). "But, in all honesty," he started, his arms around her tightening, but still gentle in his hold. "You look absolutely stunning and breath-taking," he further added, finally giving (Y/n) what she needed. "And I can't believe how absolutely gorgeous you look in this dress."

Satisfied with his words, (Y/n) turned her head up to smile at him while her arms moved to circle around him as well. "Thank you, baby," she told him, a little more confidence flowing through her. "For once, you actually listened. You were a good boy - for once!" She joked, leaning a hand on his chest as she grinned up at him.

Meanwhile, Ben just smirked as her words ran through his head. "Lovie, I'll be a good boy for you anytime you fucking want," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips against hers. However, before he can, she quickly moves out of reach with a giggle before detaching herself from him and walking out of their room.

"Then start now!" She shouted from the hall as Ben stared at the doorway, still smirking as the sight of her swaying hips lingered in his mind for a few moments afterward. Following after her, he shouted back at her with an almost humored voice.

"Love, if you keep parading around in that dress all night, I will be far from good when we get back!"

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4 Chapter 50″

Masterlist HERE.

"New birth running Running through my veins Looks like that clear day finally came Feeling high, aw

Ooh So, so satisfied, this must be Must be all there is 'Cause only love brings With it joy and tears"

Ashford & Simpson – "So So Satisfied"

"Lower your head Sweet Pea… that's my girl… lower… now sweep your feet. There ya go! You got it now!"

Erik stood back from his crouched position on the palace gymnasium floor as his oldest daughter practiced the new moves he taught her. Riki and Joba watched him work with their sister while sitting cross-legged around them, and his son itched to jump in and show off what he remembered from their last session before they moved away from him.

Yani brought the children for a family breakfast as they waited for Umama and Baba Z to return with Grandpop. The palace head chef prepared an elaborate meal for all of them, and Erik fought from touching Yani the moment he saw her step into the dining room. She wore an eggshell white drop waist dress that matched the white of all the outfits everyone else had on to honor the dead returning home. He nodded to her when the children ran to him with excited energy wearing their workout clothes, but he did his best to not stare at her so much. She dyed her hair platinum and her dark eyes and thick dark eyebrows gave her a hauntingly beautiful look. The energy around her was light and whatever visible anger she had toward him when she left the palace had disappeared. Perhaps the somber occasion made her neutral toward him out of respect for the rest of the family.

"My turn! My turn!" Riki shouted, jumping into the middle and holding his hands in a defensive position.

Erik tested Riki's skills and helped him practice round kicks and more controlled swaying motions. Riki pulled Joba up to face Erik, and his youngest daughter, having more experience with the art form, showed her father how much she had improved with his teachings. Joba had better balance and smoother transitions with her flow, while her little face held deep concentration. Erik helped her coordinate her hands and feet to move against Riki. The two children faced off together as he guided Sydette to do a proper handstand.

"Hold it longer… twenty more seconds Sweet Pea… now bring your legs down slowly… go into your next move…" Erik said.

Sydette did a shaky cartwheel and slid into a wobbly half split.

"Good job! Getting better Sweet Pea!" he encouraged.

"N'Jadaka, it is time for the children to get ready," Ramonda said, stepping into the gym.

"Go on," Erik said.

His children ran to the Queen Mother to go bathe and change out of their gym clothes. Erik went to his own suite to shower and change into royal mourning robes. He washed with a handmade gel filled with dried herbs and flowers. The odor of the mixture reminded him of something his Nana Jean used to make in Oakland when he or his mother, Califia, weren't feeling well. He used another herbal mixture to rinse himself off and air-dried his body. After rubbing fresh hair oil on his locs and thicker beard growth, Erik looked at his nude reflection in a full-length changing mirror. His keloid scars were shiny brutal reminders of his past and what it took to arrive in the country he would soon rule. Touching his chest all over, he flexed his pecs and arm muscles before spraying a subtle mist of cologne all over his body that gave him a fresh, crisp scent.

His mourning clothing consisted of white drop crotch pants with a long white linen V-neck shirt that hung with tied fringe knots at the bottom. He placed his golden jaguar necklace around his neck and wondered why he felt so calm, preparing to not only greet his grandfather but to receive his deceased parents, too. After N'Jobu and Califia had been buried, Erik never went to visit their gravesites. For so long as a child, he had denied the existence of a cemetery as their final resting place. In his mind, they were beyond death. They were never really gone as long as he held onto that belief. But now he was going to have to face the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he shook out his arms and sought out his private bar in the living room. He poured a large glass of plum liquor and gulped it down, closing his eyes as the drink warmed his throat. A knock at his door brought him out of his reverie. He answered.

T'Challa stood at his door draped in cloud white linens. His face was decorated with white dots across his forehead and along his cheeks and chin. He held a small jar and paintbrush in his hand.

"I have come to help you with this," T'Challa said, holding up the jar filled with white liquid.

Erik stood aside and T'Challa walked into his home.

"Out there," Erik said, pointing to the balcony.

T'Challa followed him outside and Erik took a seat, gazing out at the river. His cousin set to work painting his face with care, the cool paint drying quickly. It took about ten minutes to complete the task.

"Look," T'Challa said.

Erik stood with his eyes fixed on the horizon. Over a dozen quad stingers escorted a wide half cruiser in the distance. All the aircraft looked like small dots so far away, but they would loom large soon enough. A shudder rippled through his chest and he blew out a gust of nervous breath. T'Challa patted his arm.

"Come," T'Challa said.

"Wait," Erik said, the soft hesitation in his voice making T'Challa look at the approaching spectacle again.

A mixture of fear, sorrow, anger, and hopelessness washed over him and he gripped the railing of his balcony to steady himself.

"I'm not ready," Erik said.

The onset of a panic attack squeezed his midsection and his breathing became erratic. He gasped for air and fought the numbness that crept up his right arm.

"You are ready, N'Jadaka," T'Challa said.

Erik shook his head, but T'Challa clasped his right hand.

"N'Jobu meant everything to me," T'Challa said. "He was my father before my own could accept me. When my mother died, I grew up knowing my father resented me for the first three years of my life. Uncle N'Jobu stood in the gap for me to make sure I knew that I was loved. He became my father figure until my own Baba could open his heart to me. I worshipped my father once he embraced me, but I am not afraid to say out loud that Uncle N'Jobu loved me more. You will probably never forgive my father for what he did to yours. I still haven't come to terms with it myself, and I am very sorry that you have carried so much hate in your heart for so long, N'Jadaka. Prince N'Jobu was truly loved by his people and we have missed him so much. I hope that you and I will not repeat the mistakes of our fathers. They were so close once. Before my mother passed. We cannot change the past, cousin, but we can make the future we want to see by communicating together. Working as a family. It hurts me to see that ship coming with what's inside of it. But I am grateful to stand here with you and welcome your father and mother home."

Erik cleared his throat and ran his tongue across his slugs.

"He told me so many stories about you," Erik said.

T'Challa grinned.

"I even bought you this little secret decoder toy I thought we could play with together. Y'know, send each other messages… run around here being silly," Erik said.

"You still have it?" T'Challa asked.

"Nah man, that thing been lost. Packed up somewhere and forgotten."

"It would have been nice to play with you here in the palace."

"You have some kids one day, and our children can do that," Erik said.

"That would be a sight to see," T'Challa said.

Erik bowed his head and let out another nervous exhale. The ships flew closer.

T'Challa gently gripped his arm and led him out of the suite and onto the elevator. Noxolo stood next to Erik, and she gave him a pleasant smile. He had to keep exhaling rapidly and shook his hands all the way down to the first floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, the rest of his family greeted him along with extended Wakandan kin. Cousins, aunts, and uncles from Baba Z's family and the same for Umama's side, surrounded the immediate family. The Council of Elders joined them, along with military leaders who had worked with his father. Noxolo's grandmother, Captan Yoneli, was there along with the former Airman Sizani who followed Erik all the way to M.I.T. just to look after him. There were so many people there and their numbers strengthened Erik. A large Wakandan drumline stood to the side, flanked by spiritual elders who carried large bronze swinging incense burners brought down from the Temple of Bast on Mount Ezulwini. Five of the dozen drummers Erik recognized as his older cousin Sekani, his father's favorite relative, and also his father's four best friends Jax, Odwa, Paki, and Chisulo. All five of the men were tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, their eyes shining with pride at being asked to drum the homecoming march for the royal family.

Erik's eyes swept to his children, and they watched him with bright eyes standing next to their mothers. Disa and Yani were near one another with solemn expressions, each watching his face to read his mood. Yani gave him a slight head nod to encourage him to hold it together. Disa had her hair and part of her face covered in a delicate white muslin scarf, but he glimpsed the worried look in her eyes. She gave him a weak smile, and he looked away quickly, willing his body to relax. Shuri stood next to her mother and Queen Ramonda approached him as the head of the gathering. Her white ischolo crown became the beacon he needed to focus on gathering himself.

"It is time… at last," Ramonda said.

Erik glanced around as his panic fully set in. Elder Zinzi stepped forward and reached for his hand.

"We stand with you, Prince N'Jadaka," Zinzi said.

Erik took her hand and she guided him to stand next to Ramonda. He clasped Zinzi's hand tighter, and they all headed to the far end of the palace. Flanked by all the Dora Milaje, the family stepped out into the bright Wakandan sun.

They walked through the back gate of the East palace that led into the royal garden where there was enough open space for the giant half cruiser to land. The royal family didn't want to bring the ship onto the Talon Port. There were already too many news reporters and photographers surrounding the front of the double palace trying to capture images of the family and his parents' coffins. He glanced over his shoulder and looked at his children as they walked out of the garden's tall red stone gate. Sydette sprinted toward him, followed by Riki and Joba. Erik placed them next to him and Elder Zinzi. Their painted faces matched his, and he put on a brave face for them even as his body trembled. Sydette latched onto his hand.

"Look how big it is, Baba!" Sydette said, pointing up at the half cruiser.

It floated down like it was a butterfly landing on a flower. The quad stingers stayed in the sky for protection and to keep news drones away. They all waited patiently for the half cruiser to settle its landing gear, the weight of the ship locking in place vibrating under their feet. A ramp slid down and the ship opened. Erik heard Ramonda murmur under her breath, "Bast, be with us."

The silence of nearly one hundred Udaku family members waiting was louder than Erik's heartbeat thudding in his chest. The billowing white dress of Umama emerging caught his eye first. She held onto Dante's left hand as Baba Z held on to his paternal grandfather's right hand. All three were dressed in silky white cotton and the Wakandan sun gave them a dreamy look as they gazed upon the family waiting for them.

"Grandpop!"

Sweet Pea dashed away from Erik's side with her siblings racing in the rear. Dante halted his steps down the ramp and held out his arms for his great-grandchildren. Erik took a step forward as his grandfather lifted Sydette up first. The momentum of the children nearly knocked him off balance, and Baba Z had to help them all down the ramp before Dante could hug each of the little ones without falling over. Joba had her arms wrapped around her Grandpop's waist before he finally looked toward the palace again and saw Erik.

Dante held out his arms, and Erik had never run so fast in his life. Tears blinded his eyes and his grandfather's blurry image still held true in front of him.

"There he is! There's my JaJa!" Dante shouted.

Erik smothered the old man with his arms and could not let him go.

"God is good… God is so good…" Dante whispered in Erik's ear.

The pain that nestled in Erik's chest eased, and the panic attack that tried to lay him flat fell away.

"I missed you, old man. I won't ever leave your side again!" Erik said.

His voice broke and even up close, he still couldn't see his grandfather's face through his tears. Dante wiped each thick, salty tear drop away until Erik could finally see those gentle, light brown eyes that witnessed so much pain in a lifetime.

"Ah, you can see me now," Dante said.

Erik pressed his forehead against Dante's.

"Lord Jesus, I forgot how tall you were, boy!" Dante teased.

He stroked Erik's locs and pushed him back so he could look at his entire body. His wrinkled fingers shook and touched Erik from head to toe, making sure he wasn't an illusion. Dante glanced down at his great-grandchildren.

"You see what you made?" Dante said, admiring the children.

Erik nodded.

"I'm here to stay and I'll make sure you don't do nothin' foolish again. Ya heard me, boy? I will live out my life to see you enjoy your family," Dante said, patting Erik's shoulders.

Dante kissed Erik's cheek, then he reached for Umama and Baba Z's hand and pulled them closer.

"No more pain. We are one family now. The past is the past," Dante said.

Umama touched Erik's face, and he kissed the inside of her palms. He took a moment to hug Baba Z and Dante again, but then the startling sounds of drums and hand instruments played loud and strong. But the sound didn't come from behind Erik as expected. It emanated from within the half cruiser.

The powerful voice of a man rang out, surrounding them. Erik and his children turned to face the ship and within seconds, Joba dropped her little body lower to the ground and swayed to the sounds of a berimbau. Portuguese words gusted over him like a strong wind as his mind translated what he heard. Besouro's voice.

The Beetle sang to him.

"I am Ogum's son! There is no day nor hour. Give me protection in this game now!"

Draped in all white from head to toe, Besouro stepped off of the ship shaking his shaggy long salt and pepper locs with Marisol and Uncle Bakari next to him, dressed the same and playing their berimbaus too. Erik couldn't take his eyes off Marisol's attire. A grin creased his lips. Dressed as an ialorixá, a priestess, her hair was wrapped up in white with a long white caftan covering her body. Her eyes were on fire as she played her berimbau and sang to him with the voice of authority.

"If the game doesn't catch, you can't be knocked down. I am a slave descendent. I have my body closed!" she sang out.

Uncle Bakari added his voice, his eyes focused on Erik's face behind his thick glasses.

"Ogum's son can't be beaten! I am warrior. I came to battle. Ogum's son can't be beaten!"

As Uncle Bakari sang, Aunt Serah and Uncle Addae stepped off the ship, along with Aunt Shavonne, Aunt Soliel, and Aunt Aunjanue. They were joined by Mãe and Uncle Andres, who played an atabaque drum along with… Walter and Erik's other best friend, Shawn. Every time Erik thought his heart couldn't take more surprises, another relative stepped out of the ship. Aunt Rolitia and his cousin Nevaeh dressed in their traditional Yurok attire and shaking rattan and sea shell percussive rattlers to add texture to the capoeira sounds, joined the reunion. His mother's two brothers, Uncle A.J. And Uncle Brandon grinned at him when they emerged. He clapped his hands with joy when his older cousin Junie stepped off the ship with a bewildered expression of shock and love in his eyes. Erik didn't have enough arms or lips to hug and kiss everyone.

The music roared over him, reminding Erik that he was the son of Ogum and so much more. He started swaying to the music as Marisol and Besouro targeted the lyrics to his chest, puffing him up and lifting his spirits. His baby daughter Joba danced next to him. She was familiar with the song and Erik clapped his hands, watching her sing about Ogum, encouraging her to cartwheel and show off her skills. He nudged Sydette and Riki to join in and they caught the magic that the music brought out in everyone, making them want to dance and sing, too.

Shocked cries from Yani, Disa, and Twyla rose behind him as the three women ran forward when some of their own family members stepped from the ship. Disa's mother and brothers hugged her, while Yani's Aunt Leona and her parents loved up on her after a lengthy absence.

Erik turned to Umama as his heart nearly burst in his chest.

"Is this why it took you so long to come back?" he asked.

Umama wiped his cheeks with warm fingers.

"We wanted all of your family here with you. Baba Z made all the arrangements. We had to take a half cruiser to accommodate everyone, grandson," Umama said.

The berimbaus reached a crescendo, and Erik swayed his body in time to the music, letting his people see he was alive and well. His children copied his moves in front of Marisol, who sang above the powerful percussive sounds. Her crystal-clear voice let Wakanda know the diaspora had arrived. The family surrounded Erik, watching him flip and spin, taking in their love, their energy, and their spirit until he jumped in front of his grandfather again. Dante pressed his hands against Erik's and they danced together inside the circle until Leona broke the formation and reached for his body and hugged him. Yani's aunt clutched his arms and stared at his face. She had fluffed out her hair for him to look fancy. He touched her gray curls and kissed her cheek.

"Is it really you?" Leona said with a hushed tone of disbelief.

"It's me, Auntie," he said, as she touched his face with both hands.

More love and hugs flowed to him. He wanted to touch and be touched a thousand times over, and everyone on his side of the family fussed over Riki and Sydette as Joba introduced them to their new family herself with pride. Erik saw how alone his youngest had been and how thrilled she was to have Riki and Sydette. She couldn't let go of her brother's hand as Riki soaked up most of the attention because he was a tiny version of Erik. Serah, Soliel, and Aunjanue could not stop crying at how the boy looked like Califia too. Uncle Bakari kept looking at Riki and shaking his head. Mãe even questioned Sydette's paternity, claiming openly that Sweet Pea acted too much like his own child to have been fathered by someone else. They enveloped Yani as one of their own.

Hugs were long, strong, and plentiful, and they would've gone on for hours crying and fussing over the children, kissing Shuri and thanking her for saving him, praising T'Challa for ignoring Erik's wishes, smothering Yani with excited love and hugs, and greeting the Udaku extended family with affection, but Umama grabbed Erik's hand and pulled him aside. Baba Z raised his hands and the Wakandan drummers took over.

Everyone split into two lines and allowed the drummers to drift toward the ship, with the spiritual elders leading the way. Marisol handed her berimbau to her grandfather Andres and joined the processional. The doors of the half cruiser widened, and Erik gripped Umama and Dante's hands. T'Challa stood next to their grandfather and took a deep breath.

Loud ululations erupted from Umama's and Ramonda's throats and the chill that fell over everyone sent a hush over Erik's side of the family. The Wakandan relatives added their ululations, summoning seven male and female dancers who greeted two Dora Milaje that traveled with Umama and Baba Z to retrieve a prince and his foreign wife.

Erik expected to see two separate coffins emerge, but instead, his father and mother were placed together inside of a giant gold and silver sarcophagus. The sight of it sent Erik spinning.

"Grandpop," Erik choked out.

"It's okay JaJa… it's okay…" Dante said.

The piercing wail of a griot halted the dancing and drumming. An elderly man with a large elephant staff carved in dark ebony wood stood in front of the ramp as N'Jobu and Califia were pushed out of the half cruiser. The griot sang out the life story of Prince N'Jobu in Wakandan and it knocked the wind out of his son. Marisol moved next to the griot and sang out Califia's capoeira song, telling the Wakandans about the Master Hammer, the woman of the Lost Tribe that their prince fell in love with.

Erik's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, feeling like his heart had shattered and couldn't be put back together. The lifeblood in his body coursed through him, keeping him alive, but seeing them, his Mommy and Baba, wrecked him. He pounded his fists on the ground and screamed. Smashing his forehead into the hard surface of the earth, Erik screamed again, the sensation of dying yanking him down into a dark place. Dante rubbed his back and Umama stroked the top of his head as he kept screaming and rocking his body forward.

It was T'Challa who came and lifted Erik to his feet, guiding him toward the floating sarcophagus. Erik's feet didn't want to move and dragged along with his cousin's urging. He turned to look at Dante, but he glimpsed his children's fearful faces watching him. His grief frightened them. Umama and Baba Z walked beside him, along with Dante.

Once Erik reached his parents, the hitching in his chest had ceased long enough so that he could stand tall before them. He reached out and touched the top of the sarcophagus, where a carved image of his parents from an old picture they took together sat in the center.

"He loved her so much," Erik said, "And she adored him."

T'Challa nodded and admired the image. Erik rested his head on the sarcophagus, leaving smudges of white paint on his face.

"My son, you are finally home. With your beautiful wife beside you. This is not what we wanted, my baby…" Umama wailed.

Erik closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the sacred container.

"I will finish what you started, Baba. Mom, you didn't die for nothin'. I will shake up the world like you wanted to. Believe that," Erik whispered to them.

T'Challa reached out and caressed the sleek sarcophagus. His wet eyes smeared the paint on his cheeks.

"I missed you so much, Uncle N'Jobu. I am sorry for what my father did to you—"

"Nah," Erik said, shaking his head and staring at his cousin, "you ain't gotta apologize for that. That wasn't on you. All that is over and done with in their time. Let that shit go, cuz," Erik said.

T'Challa's forehead crinkled, and he gave a strained sigh of air from his lips. Closing his eyes, he let tears roll down freely. Erik watched his cousin weep for his uncle. Then he rested his hand on T'Challa's shoulder.

"Baba?"

Erik glanced down and saw Riki staring up at him and calling for his attention. He lifted his son so he could see the top of the sarcophagus. T'Challa lifted Joba and Sydette in his arms so they could observe it, too.

"These are my parents. Califia and N'Jobu. Your paternal grandparents," Erik said to all three of them.

The children looked over the image of Califia and N'Jobu and marveled at the size of the sarcophagus. Erik turned to the rest of the family.

"I am Prince N'Jadaka! Son of N'Jobu Udaku, the Golden Jaguar, and son of Califia Stevens, the Master Hammer. Make way for my parents. They have come home!" Erik shouted.

The Wakandan drummers burst into the thunderous rhythm that heralded the arrival march again. Erik held onto Riki and grasped Dante's hand to lead the royal sarcophagus into the East palace surrounded by a gauntlet of love, family, and the joyous ululations that rose to the ancestral plane for his parents to hear.

Chapter 51 HERE.

A.N.: The song Marisol, Besouro and Bakari sing is called “Filho d’Ogum” I translated parts of the song in English, but here’s the Portuguese lyrics and the song being sung:

Filho d’Ogum

Vale me Deus do céu Vale me Deus do céu Colega velho Vale me nossa senhora Vou jogar a Capoeira, Jogo de dentro e de fora Sou filho de Ogum Nem tem dia nem tem hora Que me dê protecção Nesse jogo de agora Se o jogo não apanha Nem se pode se derrubar Sou descendência de escravo Tenho o meu corpo fechado Filho de Ogum não pode apanhar Eu sou guerreiro Eu vim guerriar

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[justasimp1]

Smut!! (Sub-ish) Shouto x F! Reader.

Gaming

Shouto tossed and turned in bed. He hugged your pillow close to him, the faint lingering smell tickling his nose. "Y/N" He whined.

You continued talking with your teammates. You clicked on the keyboard. You told Shouto not to mess with you when you were playing so he listened. But the strict rules made him want you more.

He sliently crawled to the side of your chair. Your eyes were fixated onto the monitors, not noticing Shouto.

He placed his head on your lap, the warm sensation of your thighs satisfied him. "Sho?" You turned off your mic, looking down at him.

"Mmmmmm" He mumbled while trying to place your hand on his head. "No, leave. I'm busy right now" You gently scooted his head off. Turning back on your mic and continued playing the game.

Shouto wasn't the type to pout but him glaring at the monitor and sticking his bottom lip out seemed like he was.

Shouto's eyes scanned around, eyeing under the desk. He scoots under there and faced your lap. The oversized shirt you were wearing slipped up your thighs.

The flashing lights from the monitors made it able to see your black lace undergarments. Shouto swallowed, watching how your body tensed up whenever you died in the game.

It reminded him of something else....

Shouto gradually unzipped his pants, pushing his boxers aside, and cupping his hard dick. He watched the sweat dipped into your thighs' crease. He stroked his cock. A shiver running down his spine.

"Mmhm" He moaned. And continued to rub his cock. Meanwhile, you clutched your thighs close. Shouto wasn't even trying to hide what he was doing.

"Y/N, where are you?" Kirishima spoke from the voice chat. "-Uh- 1 mile north by the..." "Y/N" Shouto whined under the desk. "-Ahem- by the oak tree"

You instantly turned off your microphone. "Sho, what the hell do you think your doing-" "Y/N I need you. I can't- -it won't come out" Shouto whimpered. "Just shhhhh"

Shouto peered at his twitching cock. Weights pulling at his lips. Your feet stretched out, rubbing it between your feet. The thin thigh high socks caressed his veins. Shouto's precum made the socks' fabrics damp.

"More Y/N, please" "Your so needy" You put more pressure on his cock, going faster. "Ngh~ Mmhm~" Twitching motions came from his cock. A thick spill of white cum came flowing out. "Hmmm? Sho~ Did you really get off to that?"

A blush warmed Shouto's cheeks. His ranged breathing flickering his messy sweaty hair up. You clicked a few things on the keyboard before scooting back the hair. You pulled off the socks, the cum lacing in-between your fingers. Shouto watched you suck it off your fingers, his cock sprung back up.

"We only have a little time before they want me back. So let's make this quick" Shouto nodded, picking you up. He softly laid you onto the bed. His cock slipped under your shirt, prodding at your black panties.

The soaking wetness of your cunt made his tip flinch. Your tongues tangled within each other. "You're so sexy" Shouto cursed under his breath, kissing at your neck.

Dark purple hickeys blended into your skin. "Just do it already" You tugged at Shouto's pink roots. Shouto admires your body. He bit his lip, wanting to drag cold fingers around the curves of your body.

Shouto put his hands under your shirt. He burnt off the lace straps, making it easier to slip off. "Y/N your so beautiful"

He rubbed his cock between your folds. The wet lubricant slid his cock inside your throbbing pussy. A steamy moan left your mouth. The tip of Shouto's cock was cold and it guided itself purposely sluggish.

"Mmmh~ Ngh~" Shouto whimpered. His obvious state looked like he wasn't going to last long. You tightened your legs around his hips, flipping him over so you were on top.

Shouto kept begging for more as you teased him. Your walls started to beat around Shouto's cock. "Your such a good needy boy, Shouto" You cupped his face, massaging the strands on his flustered cheeks. "You couldn't even wait"

You cooed at Shouto. He groaned in response. Turning to his side in embarrassment. The colliding of slapping skin echoed around the room. Your wet juices spilled down Shouto's cock.

Shout gaged on air. The feeling on having you milk his cock and praise him made quiver under your touch. "Y-Y/N cum on m-me, please. I really w-want you to" Shouto grasped at your clenching thighs. His begging made you reach your clasp closer.

"I'm going to cum" "Me too" Shouto's eyes became blurry, begging for even more. His toes curled and a spurt of cum came slowly trickling out. Your fingers stretched and your thighs tighten. The flesh walls pulsed on Shouto. "Mmfh~" You clear gummy-like cum mixed with Shouto's. You collapsed on his chest. Breathing heavy.

His cock still sat inside your twitching cunt, his seed warming your insides. Shouto wrapped his arms around your body, rubbing a heated hand on your back. "Do you still have to get back to the game?" He pouted. "I'll stay like this for a little while" You sleepily replied, smuggling your head in the crook of Shouto's neck.

Masterlist

[inhuman-obey-me]

Payback's a Murder

Word Count: 2k Description: Mammon may be the Avatar of Greed and may constantly try to con his brothers, but others who try to do the same will find themselves at the wrong end of his murder. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to this, so here we go with Mammon's turn! Note: Mulciber is a demon mentioned in John Milton's Paradise Lost. He served under Mammon and was an architect. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, body horror, torture via the sharp ends of birds

The Avatar of Greed often found himself in trouble, whether it be because he stole personal belongings to sell or tried to cheat someone out of cash or … well, there were a lot of ways. Call him reckless, but when he saw an opportunity to make some cold, hard Grimm, he wasn’t about to pass it up!

But if someone tried to cheat him out of something? That wouldn’t do. Few dared to try it if they knew just who they were dealing with, but that didn’t stop some from trying anyway. They always regretted it afterwards.

The real issue, however, was if someone tried to cheat his brothers out of something. After all, he was the only one allowed to rip them off (that was his justification, anyway). The moment he finds out someone else tried to play confidence demon with any of them, it was a one-way ticket to the Great Mammon’s Beatdown Extravaganza.

He was walking by Leviathan’s room earlier when he heard a loud crash, some swearing, and a slight rumble under his feet. After some door breaking, tackling, and forcing his hotheaded brother to not summon Lotan, he found out what had made him so upset. Apparently, there was some demon running around with elaborate schemes swindling others -- well, nerds -- out of their money. He went on to explain something that Mammon did not at all understand -- as was usual when he got into his otaku rambling. If his brother had not been so upset, Mammon would have commended the guy for knowing how to target and hit a jackpot.

After some additional pestering, Mammon managed to get a rough description of this third-rate demon and realized he had a pretty good idea of just who it was. It was someone far closer to him than he’d like to admit.

So now here he was, leaning against the bar at one of the Devildom’s many clubs, drink in hand as he monitors the floor. If he was right, he would see the other cozening demon somewhere here tonight, so now it was just a waiting game. As Lucifer had told him repeatedly, You have to show that you’re Number Two. He planned to make that very clear tonight.

He felt the pulse of the bass vibrating through his body as the DJ amped up their music, more and more demons flowing into the space as the prime clubbing hours arrived. A few who noticed Mammon acknowledged his presence, some whispering about how he seemed to look way more serious than normal. The Avatar of Greed, not partying the night away already? Strange.

His patience was just about to run out when he caught a glimpse of just the demon he was seeking out. Hair as orange as a flame, he wasn’t too hard to spot amongst the crowd of more muted succubi surrounding him. Mammon downed the rest of his drink in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to his target.

“Mulciber. Already getting started, huh?”

“M-Mammon?!” He seemed startled to see the other, but cleared his throat as he regained his cool composure. “It’s good to see you, man! Why don’t you join us all for a drink?” The succubi around him giggled, one daring to lean towards Mammon in an attempt to latch onto his arm, but he quickly placed a hand up to stop her.

“No touchin’, sweetheart.” He shot her a look that made her immediately back away, a pout on her lips. “And that’s a nice offer, Mulcey, but I was hopin’ I could talk to ya real quick in private.”

Mulciber could tell that no was not an option in this conversation, given the serious look in the Avatar’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure. Sorry ladies, I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of business!” He gave them a wink as they continued on to the table for their party. Clearing his throat again, he turned back to his superior. “So, what’s shaking, boss?”

Mammon just gave him a smile before nodding his head towards a side door, motioning to accompany him there. The lesser demon complied, following him outside to a side alley. The night air was brisk, causing a shudder to run through Mulciber’s spine. At least, he hoped it was the weather that was making him feel like this …

“I heard ya got up to another scheme.” Mammon fiddled with a lighter, flipping the top off and on with his thumb and a jerk of his hand as he spoke. Click, click, click, click. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, totally!” Mulciber nervously replied, wondering why Mammon seemed so interested. Did he want a cut of the check? Fishing for ideas for his own next get-rich-quick scheme? Or --

Oh.

Oh no.

He suddenly remembered that one of the victims of his scheming had been the very Avatar of Envy. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, delighting in the fact that he was even able to rip off a Greater Demon. Meant his plan had to be pretty genius, right? But now … now he was starting to realize that he may have just made a big mistake.

“Hm? Ya haven’t said a word, Mulcey-boy.” Mammon turned to face him, tucking the lighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the other, who immediately took a step back -- only to be met with a hard brick wall. “Or didja have a moment of realization?”

“L-Listen, Mammon, I’m sorry! I didn’t know at the time, I swear!” Mulciber brought both his hands up, as if that would stop the other from approaching him.

“Oh? ‘Cuz your face says differently, buddy.” He bared his fangs, the usual gradient in his eyes now glowing a furious gold. There’s a malicious grin on his face as he takes a step back, and then he begins to … whistle?

Mulciber does not like where this is going. He’s heard that tune before and it makes his hairs stand on end. “Look, man, please, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you!” There’s already desperation in his voice, which almost makes Mammon laugh.

“Glad to hear it. Then ya won’t have a problem with what’s about to happen next, yeah?”

It starts in the distance, a noise that made it feel as if your eardrums were being pierced by a thousand shards of glass. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer. An omen.

Mulciber shrinks against the wall, his grey eyes wide in fear. He knows running is pointless -- the other demon would quickly catch him, and leave him even worse for wear as repercussion. “P-please, Mammon, sir, don’t do this … “

“Didn’t you just say ya’d do whatever ya have to do?” Mammon shakes his head, his wings stretching out wide as if to entrap the lesser demon where he stood. “And you really think suddenly pullin’ out the formalities is gonna get ya any mercy here?”

The flapping of numerous wings now filled the air, a large murder of crows circling in the dark sky above. Their bone-chilling caws and cries rain down upon them as the birds eagerly await their master’s command.

Mammon lunged forward and grasped the other’s jaw, his claws digging into flesh as he brought his face threateningly close. “Pretty ballsy of you to think messin’ with any of us was the right move.” He growled, a rumble in his throat. “Looks like someone needs remindin’ of his place.”

“I-I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time! C’mon, you know how that is, don’t you? I was just thinking of making some big bucks, I didn’t mean to go and step out of line--” Mulciber frantically rambled, trying to ignore the searing pain he was feeling from Mammon’s grip.

“I’m sure that was the case, Mulcey, sure!” If it wasn’t for his mocking smile, the Avatar would have nearly sounded genuine. “But that doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences, ya’know?” He let out a tsk, watching as blood dripped from where he had pierced the other’s skin.

He let go of Mulciber, taking a few steps back as he shook his hand as if to clean it of the ichor. There was no denying the glee he was feeling from this -- it had been a while since he decided to flex his abilities and powers on another. Looking up to the sky, he whistled out another tune, causing the crows to descend.

“He’s all yours.” He commands them in a language only they could understand, and in a flash the black-feathered birds rush in to attack. Their squawks mix with Mulciber’s shrieks as they begin to peck at him with their beaks and scratch him with their claws. Mammon fishes out the lighter from his pocket once more, grabbing a cigarette from the box he had on him with his other hand. Leaning against the opposing alley wall, he lights up and takes a slow drag, watching as the flurry of feathers pulverize his inferior.

The crows tear at Mulciber’s flesh, their sharp beaks riddling his body with small cavities and painting him with his own blood. He continues to cry and scream, though it’s obvious he’s losing energy by the second as they grow weaker in intensity, his body slumping towards the ground. Perhaps he had learned his lesson? Surely, he’s just waiting for it all to stop now, right?

Mammon takes a glance around, humming in delight as he catches sight of a discarded iron pipe. He drops the remains of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before retrieving his now makeshift weapon. It feels cool and light in his hand, and he gives it a small toss in the air before catching it again with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, alright. You all can leave him alone now.” Mammon commands his murder once more, followed by another whistle to let them know they could go back to doing whatever they were doing before now. One of them flew over to Mammon, perching on the metal rod in his hand, looking up at him with a puffed up chest in pride as blood stained its beak.

“Yes, who’s my good lil’ birdie?” Mammon cooed, scratching the crow under its chin. “Go get yerself cleaned up, okay?” It cawed in delight before flying off to join the rest, who were fading back into the dark night sky. The Avatar of Greed shook his head fondly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Mulciber lay crumpled on the ground, though was making efforts to sit upright as he gasped for breath. His body hurt all over, as if every inch of him had been pierced with needles. He feebly looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, a whimper leaving him as he noticed the rod in his hand.

“What? I couldn’t let my birds have all the fun, now could I?” Mammon grasped the rod firmly in both hands before swinging it down with a deafening crack as it hit the other, who let out another sharp cry of pain.

“Hm, perhaps just another for good measure.” Whack. Another wail.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Whack. Another splatter of blood.

Content at the shuddering and sniveling mass that was left, Mammon kneeled down to get close to Mulciber’s ear, his next words full of menace. “Ya really should have stuck to the building business. Keep that in mind in the future, ‘kay?”

Mammon stood up and let the iron rod clatter to the ground, its hollowness ringing into the night. He made his way back inside to order another drink, ignoring the whispers and stares from the others in the club. It was doubtful that Mulciber would make an appearance here after what had happened for a while.

He knocked on the bar counter, getting the attention of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your finest whiskey. Put it on Mulciber’s tab.”

[angelatsumu]

paramedic school! Matsun

this is a selfish fantasy that I've had since I've been increasing my practice with starting IV's. still, i think the concept is...*chef's kiss*

warnings: puppy!reader (kinda), mentions of subspace, dumbification if you squint, fingering, a kind of cocky Issei.

He watches you struggling to assemble your IV dummy, and you blush as you grow frustrated, hair falling into your face and glasses fogging up in frustration.

"Babe~" you glance up from under your eyelashes, locking eyes with him. The defeated and vulnerable look on your faces get him, but he contains himself. Still, he brews a master plan to take little hold on his vulnerable smart girl.

Leaning into your helpful boyfriend, he pet your cheek gently, caressing the warm skin under his thumb. You blushed even more, nuzzling into his hand as you let the frustration melt away. "How about you just do some on me, hm? I'll sit nice and still, and you can stick me as many times as you like." His words felt like honey, but you knew something else had clouded his mind. Issei absolutely adored helping you study, but this time there seemed to be an ulterior motive.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't start fantasizing when he saw you standing of the IV arm, clothed heat lingering at the fingertips. That combined with your huffing, whining and bashful features were driving him mad. He needed to feel the plushness of your cunny, to feel the vulnerability you so easily exuded around him. This vulnerability was almost unique to him; you never allowed anyone to see you so pliant and docile in the real world, but for your lover you'd be as small as you could. He adored that, the way you would melt only for him.

So here he sat, arm splayed out on the table as you assembled all of your equipment. As you started arranging needles and flush kits, his eyes traced your frame, admiring the cute little polka dot dress that made you look like his little housewife, the way your ankle socks made you so dainty, but his favorite part had to be the blush of your cheeks. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, dipping deep into the darker depth of his fantasies, wanting nothing more than to corrupt you. He lived for how shy you got the moment he touched you, how you withdrew out of bashfulness, never letting his touch linger unnoticed. He was dying to see your will wear thin.

After assembling all of your equipment, you stood over his hand, fingertips dangerously close to the hem of your lovely dress, and his eyes traced the length of his arms, stopping at their target. He hummed to himself, watching as your carefully maneuvered, pressing on the flesh of his forearm to search for a good vein. "So many good choices," you whispered cheerfully, eyebrows furrowed in intent to find the perfect one. He grins, his girl truly was incredible. Still, he ached deep down to see the less composed, more submissive angel he adored.

"Hmph," you huffed, manipulating his arm in a way that placed his fingertips just under the hem of your dress, inches away from your heat. He chuckled to himself at your innocence, the way you didn't notice how dangerously close he was to bringing you to a crumbling ball of submissiveness. He grinned, watching you intently as you leaned over once more, pressing on the sponginess of the vein. You leaned to grasp a cleansing pad, feeling his index finger grazed your clothed cunny. Your cheeks warmed in embarrasment, but you refused to make a big deal of it. Your boyfriend probably did it unintentionally, and for you to mention it would make this weird, right? Still, you couldn't deny the wetness pooling in your nether regions.

He noticed. He noticed the tenseness of your body, the slight gasp you tried to hide with a cough, and most importantly, the wetness that accompanied his featherlike touch. "Come on, smart girl. Stick me~" he grinned tauntingly, eyes glinting mischievously at you. You nodded, moving to clean the pre-determined spot of action. Just as you leaned to trace the vein once more, he pressed his fingertips directly between your clothed folds, gently running his fingers between them, spreading the wetness there. An involuntary whimper fled your lips, thighs immediately going to clamp his hand there. "Oh~?" You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, ashamed that you had allowed yourself to make such a lewd sound. "Open your eyes, puppy~" He knew what he was doing. The name made your knees weaker and along with them went your determined demeanor. He was able to reduce you to a pool of subspace, but you still had some fight in you.

"Issei, stop it." You huffed, but that attitude did not go over well. Once again, Issei dragged his fingers over your throbbing cunny, being sure to spread your wetness more. With one gentle flick of your covered clit, you had dropped the needle and given up on the practice scenario. Issei stared at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, watching you attempt to remain level-headed. He grinned cheekily, tisking at you for fighting so hard. "Aw puppy, come on now~" he teased, using stealth to slide your cotton panties aside and run his fingers through your slick. The caress of his fingers were turning your brain to mush, and without thinking your hips began rocking against his hand, quiet whimpers and huffs leaving your lips.

A groan left his lips as he watched his beautiful girl grow dumb for him, so needy for him. Your cheeks were blushed, eyes squeezed shut with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as your hips rut against his hand, shame far gone from the scene. Matsun's pants grew tighter at the sight, but he held himself together, trying to draw out the scene for as long as he could. He lived for the slow melting that happened with you, for the way you slowly let him consume you. He was addicted to you, addicted to the warmth of your cunny.

"Please, Daddy~". There it was. This is what he had been dying to hear from the moment he saw your hovering over your IV hand. He knew he needed it, the beautiful subby baby he adored. He needed the baby that needed her daddy to soothe her aching cunny. A breathy whine fell from your lips, and he could tell he wasn't satisfying you as much as you needed. He poor pup needed the extra clit stimulation to cum, but he wasn't satisfied with your current mind state. He needed to break you.

"You look so pathetic grinding on your patient's hand, pup. Do you hump all your patients, hm?" he scoffed, chuckling sadisticly at the heated huff that left your lips. He looked up at you, watching as a scowl fell on your features and your hips stuttered in self-abhoration. "Well~" 'O-only, ~hmph, only y-you,' you whimpered, reaching out to touch him finally. You hands found his shoulders blindly, and he grinned once more at his clever girl. He adored the intimacy of your shyness, how it placed him front row of a show no one else ever got to see. He needed moments like these, moments where he could absolutely wreck you. Still, he took his time.

"Puppy, look at me." As your eyes fluttered open, Matsun allowed a two digits to grace your spongy walls, caressing them in a tantalizing motion, causing a gasp of defeat to leave your lips. "There's my pretty little puppy," he praised, using his free hand to gently pinch your clit, causing your hips to rock frantically. "If you cum, pup, you will owe me several more," he scolded, feeling the way your angelsoft cunny squeezed him. "B-but, please daddy~" you whimpered, tears from frustration flowing softly down your cheeks. He almost creamed right there, watching you writhe with the impending fucked out physique and teary eyes. He knew he was all you could see, all you could feel. He consumed you, and all from a few simple touches. Seeing his pretty baby crying, so needy, that was enough to make his pants unbearably tight and tip beyond swollen and sensitive.

He couldn't relent any further, he needed to make you cum right here, in the position he fantasized about since he laid eyes on you and that silly IV arm. Your orgasm hit you like a train, creaming and whining all over him, tears flowing with every convulsion. When you came down, he slowly withdrew his hand, but you weren't quite done. He'd pushed you so far into sub space, you needed your daddy to be with you, to be in you. With teary eyes, you clambered into his lap, begging him to fuck you, to let you feel him stretching you.

"I don't know baby, that sounds like too much~" he relented, not out of concern, out of his sadistic need to have you dumb for him. he lived for being needed, and with every beg his cock twitched. You were so dumb for him, so silly. The tears kept flowing, and he kept using his thumbs to gently wipe them away, but you pressed on. Your hips worked down on him, and he hissed with each movement, loving how desperate you got for him. After little convincing and several tears, he spreads you open on the table. He thanks the IV dummy.

[bullshxtvixen]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

Pairing: Sugawara x Reader

Word count: 3.3k (this was only supposed to be a thirst, fml.)

Warnings: 18+, Soft dom!Suga, Semi-public sex, sofa sex???, a hint of cockwarming, foreplay, degradation/praise kink mixed in there, Daichi and Asahi make an appearance.

Song: Slow motion - Trey Songz

A/n: shoutout once again to the ever amazing @nyxdelanuit​ for beta reading this for me, i appreciate the hell out of you!!

AND THANK YOU FOR 15K, HOLY SHIT!!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

Cringing at the gory scene displayed on the television in front of you, you pressed yourself further into your boyfriends’ side, wrapping your hands around his lean bicep and burying your face into his shoulder as you pulled the blanket over your head in an attempt to block out the image.

His shoulder moved against your forehead as he chuckled at your distressed position. Moving to rest a hand between your legs, he absentmindedly begins to rub soothing motions against your inner thigh in an attempt to calm your thundering heartbeat.

“Scared, beautiful?” He whispered into your hair.

You peaked up at him from beneath the blanket, shooting him a glare before another graphic scene popped up and you were once again forced to retreat under your makeshift shield.

“Um, does she want us to turn it off, we can put something else on if she’s really uncomfortable with it?” Daichi whispered from his spot across the room, a mix of worry and humour in his voice, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Asahi is coping much better.”

You braved another glance over the top of your safety blanket to see the man Daichi was referring to. The only light in the room was coming from the tv, but you could just make out that the former-ace of Karasuno had his knees pulled up to his chest as he anxiously bit his fingernails, eyes wide but unable to look away from the gory images flashing across the screen. Something about seeing the 6ft+ hulk of a man reduced to a nervous mess made you feel a little better about your current situation.

Satisfied that you weren’t the only one who wasn’t coping well, you hid back under the blanket, pressing your face into Suga’s neck, taking a deep breath as his warm scent engulfed you. It filled your lungs, instantly placating your nerves. He always had that kind of calming effect on you in these kinds of situations and it was something you’d quickly grown to appreciate.

“No, I think she’ll be okay.” calloused fingers squeeze your thigh beneath the blanket before you’re pulled into his lap, your body angled so that you’re now sideways on top of him. You leave a delicate kiss at the corner of his mouth before settling into your new position, resting your head under his chin as he pulls your body closer to his, “I’ll just have to find a way to keep her occupied.”

For the next couple of minutes, you stay wrapped in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as his hand softly caresses your thigh, fingertips making circles on your delicate skin. You’re so close to sleep that when his hand moves further up between your thighs, you can’t form a sentence.

“Sssh, princess, stay nice and quiet for me.” The hand that had been delicately caressing your thigh now moves to cover your clothed pussy, nimble fingers applying pressure to your clit as your breathing comes to a stop and you clench your legs together in an attempt to halt his devious appendages. 

You looked up at him in alarm, but his gaze is still locked on the screen as if he wasn’t the source of the slow ache beginning to form between your legs. A small voice in the back of your mind was yelling at you to get off his lap, that it wasn’t right for this to happen while your friends were in the room, but that voice is drowned out when you feel the head of his cock poking against the curve of your ass.

“Koushi, we can’t, your friends.” you half moan, half hiss as he begins to increase his pressure on your clit, your hips betraying you by grinding against him and your legs parting slightly to allow him easier access to your core. The movement coupled with the loose shorts that he’s wearing allows his cock to slip between your thighs and press up against your dampening slit. He can feel the heat your cunt is giving off, even through the layers of clothes you’re wearing and it took all his self-control to not rip your bottoms down right there and bury himself inside your velvet walls. He didn’t even care that his friends were in the room, but he knew you’d never be able to face them again if you were caught with him stuffing your insides

“Ssh, princess, they won’t know, we’ll be extra careful.” The words were whispered against your hair as the hand that wasn’t currently between your legs squeezed your side as if that was supposed to reassure you. Sensing your apprehension, he chose that moment to gently rock his hips up into you as his fingers continued to work your clit. It allowed his cock to drag against your damped cunt, quashing any further argument you had as you turned to putty in his hold.

The pace his fingers had started increased, forcing you to bite down on your lip, silencing the moan building in your throat. Need flowed through your body, warming your body and causing the ache between your legs to grow. Your orgasm neared, forcing the sounds around you to become little more than a dull buzz in your ears.

“That’s it. Cum for me, princess, right here with our friends around us, I know you want to.” His words fuelled the fire in your belly, instantly sending your body into what would be your first orgasm of the night.

You clawed at his shirt, your hands gripping the fabric as you rode out your orgasm, gently rocking your hips against him to prolong your pleasure. You held your breath the entire time, still anxious about being caught. You’d never be able to face Daichi or Asahi again if they found out what you’d just done.

You stilled in his lap as you waited for your high to dissipate, your mind beginning to clear from the fog of lust that hand clouded it.

“I can’t believe we just…” you couldn’t finish the sentence, still drunk off the ecstasy lingering in your veins.

The ache between your legs was still there as well as your boyfriend's hardened cock. You hadn’t realised in your state of euphoria that he hadn’t gotten the chance to cum.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” He whispered, teasing you, but you could hear the strain in his voice from being denied his own release. Pulling the blanket down slightly to allow cool air to wash over your heated cheeks, you quickly scanned your surroundings, noting that Daichi and Asahi were still completely oblivious to what had gone on in the room. You let out a reluctant breath, turning your head to look at the grey-haired man who’d just made you cum in your pants. God, he wasn’t going to let you live that down. Even now you could feel your arousal coating the inside of your panties, the liquid sticky and uncomfortable against your heated skin.

His cheeks were flushed as he smiled down at you, quickly placing a kiss against your temple before he once again wrapped his arms around you and went back to watching the movie. 

You squirmed in his arms, not only uncomfortable in your ruined underwear, but also with the fact that he hadn’t cum. It didn’t seem fair, though you weren’t sure what you could do to help him out without getting caught. Could you let him fuck you right here on the couch and get away with it? His fingers were one thing but having his cock dragging inside your walls...

He must’ve felt your eyes on him because he glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow when he noticed you staring up at him with flushed cheeks. You quickly averted your gaze, pulling the blanket back over your head, suddenly embarrassed by your own thoughts. Of course, it was a silly idea. As if he read your mind, his hand went to the band of the loose shorts you were wearing, slipping his fingers beneath the elastic before allowing it to gently snap back against your skin. The slight sting jolted your thoughts, snapping you out of the lewd images of him folding you in half on the couch and fucking you in front of his friends.

“You still want more, angel?” Your eyes widened at his words, fear, adrenaline and excitement all flooding your system, causing your walls to clench in anticipation. You did want more, but could y- “I know you want my cock inside you, it’s written all over your face, now lift those hips for me.”

You hesitated for a second before lifting them slightly, giving just enough room for him to hook his slender fingers between the fabric of both your shorts and underwear. He makes quick work of pulling them down to your thighs, and in the same breath he frees himself from the confines of his bottoms, lengthy cock immediately springing free and pressing against your exposed core. 

Grasping himself in his free hand, he quickly slips it between your folds, coating himself in your juices. Soft groans escape his lips at finally feeling your skin against his, and knowing how wet you are for him while your friends are in the same room made his head spin as he held himself back from shoving you down onto his throbbing cock. If he did that, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up any kind of restraint. 

As the thoughts clouded his mind, he suddenly became aware of the way your dripping pussy twitched against the head of his cock where it was probing at your entrance, almost as if your body was begging for him to fill you until he was buried deep inside your velvet walls.

This only fuelled his desire even more, knowing you were just as turned on at the risk of being caught as he was. He readjusted himself slightly, -the new angle would allow you to slide down his length with ease- and once he was settled, his patience finally ran out. He needed to be inside the wet heat that you were offering to him and he needed it now.

“That’s it, now I want you to impale yourself on me, sweetheart. Let my cock fill that greedy pussy while our friends are right here,” his lips brush against your hair as you hover above him, your body beginning to shake from the strain, “and you’d better hold those moans in, we wouldn’t want them to find out what a dirty little slut you are, would we?” His words were thick with lust as they wrapped around you, almost as if they were taking shape and pulling you down onto his waiting shaft. 

You wasted no time in lowering yourself onto this entire length, his cock dragging against your walls, stretching them in a way that made your entire body heat up and the desire in the pit of your stomach increase tenfold. 

You were warm inside and out, making it harder to think straight as he entered you.

You both let out shaky breaths at the feel of him bottoming out inside you. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing his shaft so intensely that he had to dig his nails into the skin of your hip and thigh to stop himself from spilling inside of you right then. You were certain you’d find bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning.

You tremble beneath his hands as the urge to start bouncing up and down on his cock overwhelms you. You always did turn into a needy little slut whenever you got the chance to ride his cock and he loved every second of it, however now you had no choice but to take it nice and slow. 

It was blissful torture for both of you.

“Ko...I need...I need to move, p-please.” you begged, your voice small and cracking at the end, the ache inside you growing to an uncomfortable level. The lack of friction was killing you. He nodded, not trusting his voice at that moment.

As soon as he gave you the go-ahead, you began to slowly rock your hips, careful not to make any movements that were too big and could give you away. 

The coil in the pit of your stomach slowly began to tighten as every roll of your hips allowed his cock to massage your walls, stretching and stroking them in a way had your spine-tingling beneath your safety blanket.

It turned you on even more knowing it was only a thin sheet of material that was keeping you from being discovered. There was no time to be ashamed about what you were doing, the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock was moving inside of you, pulsing in the wet heat that you offered him.

As you continued to ride his cock, he could feel your arousal leaking out of you and running down his shaft and over his balls, you were making quite the mess, but he didn’t care one bit, he would worry about the stain that was sure to be there later.

You were his only priority now, the only thing filling his mind as you worked yourself up and down his throbbing muscle.

Your breathing became laboured as your orgasm began to creep up on you, your walls tightening around the thick muscle tucked between your sopping folds.

Suga wasn’t faring any better, his shallow breaths fanned across the top of your head as his own pleasure threatened to engulf him. The tiny little gasps that fell from your parted lips whenever his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot made everything so much worse, you had no idea how wild the sounds you made drove him.

It didn’t help that being inside you was so intoxicating. Your greedy cunt sucked him further inside, every time inviting him deeper and deeper.

“I don’t think...I can last much longer, y/n, I need to fill you, now.” his cock twitched inside you, accentuating his words

“M-me too.” You didn’t trust your voice enough to say more than that, your movements already becoming disjointed as the ache inside you neared its peak.

Slender fingers found your puffy clit, gently circling it as you continued to grind your hips against him, working your orgasm out of you until it was just rippling below the surface.

With one last gentle thrust inside you, you came apart in his arms. Your teeth sank into his chest as your hands clawed at his arm, desperate to grab onto something as you lost yourself to the waves of euphoria that crashed through your body.

Unable to hold back anymore as your walls clamped down on him, he gave into his orgasm, his body going stiff before thick ropes of cum sprayed your walls white. 

He pressed his face into your hair, trying not to make a sound as your walls continued to spasm around him, milking his cock for every last drop he had to offer.

When your teeth left his skin and your grip on his arm grew slack, he knew you’d rode out your high.

Dazed, you looked up at him with heated cheeks, smiling as you met his gaze. Pressing a kiss to his jaw, you quickly became aware that his cum was beginning to leak out of you.

Fuck. How could you have not thought about this? There was not a chance in hell you were going to be able to just get up and go to the bathroom without taking the blanket with you, and if you did that, they’d see the mess you made of Suga’s lap.

“How am I supposed to move now?!” You hissed, panic lacing your voice, “If I move, your cum’s going to go all over the place.”

All traces of pleasure had left your traitorous body, your mind now clear from the fog of lust that it had been trapped inside. As you looked up at your boyfriend in panic, you realised that he was smirking down at you, not a hint of worry on his face.

He brought his lips to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your neck. You shivered against him, unable to stop the way your body naturally responded to him.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” he shifts beneath you, ripples of pleasure running up your spine as his cock grows hard inside your walls once again.

You already knew where this was going.

“The only way to keep my cum from spilling all over the place is to make sure you stay nice and plugged up, so you’re going to sit on my cock for the rest of the movie without moving and make sure no more of my cum dribbles out of that pretty little hole of yours,” he smiled as he felt you clamp down on him again, always so willing to please him, even in a situation like this, “and if it does...well, I guess I’m just going to have to rearrange your insides and pump you full of more cum right here on the couch for everyone to see.”

Shuffling to the side of you made both of you freeze.

“Uh...Suga?” Daichi’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, it told you everything you needed to know, but the curse that fell from Suga’s lips confirmed it.

“I don’t think we were as subtle as we thought, angel.”

Horror froze you in place, your body refusing to move as you tried to convince yourself this wasn’t happening, there was no way they’d caught, Daichi just wanted to check you were okay, nothing else.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the blanket from over your head, already prepared to dart for the door, whether you were full of cum or not, but instead a gasp fell from your lips at what you found.

Embarrassment and disbelief came over you as light from the tv allowed you to see Daichi’s hand stroking his hard cock, precum glistening on the tip. Even in the poor light you could see his girth was impressive, the kind that would leave you feeling full for days after being inside you. 

You quickly pulled your eyes away but were met with a similar image when you turned your head in the opposite direction. Asahi’s head fell back as his hand worked his cock up and down, his lip worried between his teeth as your whimpers played over and over in his mind. 

“Look what those moans of yours have done, y/n, tempting our friends like that, such a bad girl.” Your eyes stayed glued to Asahi’s hand, fixated on the way his thumb would glide over the tip of his cock as he tried to bring himself to climax.

Suga and Daichi shared a look behind your shoulder.

The latter kicked off his bottoms before making his way to where you sat, still impaled on his best friends cock no doubt. As if he wouldn’t notice what was going on. He mentally rolled his eyes, you gave yourself away so easily, too lost in chasing your orgasm that you hadn’t realised the volume of the moans slipping from your slips. He wasn’t angry about it though.

He stopped beside you, smirking at Suga before taking your chin in his grasp, turning your head so that your attention was on him.

Your eyes turned to saucers as Daichi stood before you, his cock still gripped in his hand as he towered over you. Suga twitched inside you.

“Those little moans are yours are something else, baby girl.” In your peripheral vision, you watched Asahi get up and discard his pants before coming to stand next to Daichi, both of them jerking their cocks as they looked down at you, your slackened jaw at being trapped between 3 men bringing smiles to their faces.

Daichi’s thumb dragged across your bottom lip before he brought his face just inches from yours, your breath catching in your throat.

“How about we see what other noises we can get out of this pretty little mouth of yours, huh, y/n?”

You’d barely finished nodding before your safety blanket was ripped away from you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ

Please, for the love of the Gods, do not even think about asking for sequel, i refuse. hard pass. nope. but i hope you enjoyed it, let me know your thought’s in the comments!

[narumi-gens]

Sweet & Sticky

Gojo Satoru/Reader

summary: When you decided to make breakfast for Gojo, this wasn’t what you had in mind.

genre: smut, fluff

words: 1.4k

➔ part of The Breakfast Club drabble series

You couldn’t remember the last time you had woken up in such a great mood. As you yawned and lazily stretched in bed, you tried to put your finger on what exactly was behind it. 

Maybe it was because you still felt so wonderfully satisfied. Maybe it was because of the pleasant ache between your legs. Maybe it was because of how thoroughly you had been fucked the night before. Maybe it was knowing that the great Gojo Satoru was still passed out next to you, his hair sticking up at all angles as slept on his stomach and soft snores leaving him every so often. 

As you looked over at the man sharing your bed, you quickly decided that was the cause. It was a big boost to your confidence to know that the man who didn’t bat an eye when facing a special grade curse had been thoroughly exhausted by your pussy. 

Thinking back on the previous night with a smirk, you contemplated sliding onto his back and waking him up by placing soft kisses along his neck, ready for another round. But then your stomach gave an unattractive rumble and you quickly decided that food was more important. 

Making sure not to wake Gojo, you carefully slid out of bed before heading to the bathroom to clean up, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor as you went. You slipped it over your head and when you saw your reflection in the mirror as you turned on the bathroom light, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. You were drowning in the fabric and it said more about its owner’s lanky proportions than it did about your own body type. 

“He’s like an alien,” you mumbled to yourself with an amused grin as you turned on the faucet. 

Once you were done with your morning routine — bladder empty, teeth brushed, face washed, and moisturizer applied — you flipped off the light switch as you left the bathroom, smiling when you saw that Gojo was still right where you had left him in your bed. 

You began to softly hum the song that had been stuck in your head all week as you made your way to the kitchen. Taking a minute to think about what was in your pantry and fridge, you brightly smiled when you realized that you had the ingredients needed for pancakes.

And so you quickly got to work, beating together your eggs and milk before combining them with your flour and baking powder to make the perfect pancake batter. Once it was ready and your frying pan was hot, you ladled in a heaping spoonful of batter and patiently waited for it to spread and cook, flipping it over once bubbles began to form.

You were about halfway done, a small stack of perfectly golden pancakes sitting on a plate on the counter, the mixing bowl filled with batter now half-empty, and a delicious smell in the air when you realized that you weren’t alone. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw that Gojo was behind you, leaning his shoulder against the fridge in nothing but his boxer-briefs with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’m making pancakes,” you told him as you returned to tending to the pancake currently cooking in front of you. When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him once more, only to pause when you saw his expression.

He looked hungry, but you were almost positive it wasn’t for breakfast. The desire in his annoyingly astounding eyes stoked the fire inside of you that you thought had died out last night after your fifth orgasm. 

“What’s that look for?” you asked him, pleased with yourself for keeping the breathlessness from your voice as you returned your attention to flipping the pancake. 

“You just look really, really good like that,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. With your back to him, you missed the way he brought his thumb up to rub at his bottom lip distractedly as he took in the domestic scene playing out before him. 

Before you could ask him what that was supposed to mean, he spurred into action. He wrapped his hands around your hips, turned you to face him, and then lifted you up to sit on the counter before dropping down to his knees in front of you — all his motions smooth as they flowed one right into the next. In your surprise at the sudden movements, you let out a yelp and dropped your spatula to the floor. 

“S-Satoru!” you cried out, your eyes wide as he yanked you to the edge of the counter and spread your knees apart. You frantically looked over to the stove and the still-cooking pancake in the frying pan. “The stove! The pancakes!”

But your protests were all for show, your actions speaking much louder than words as you buried your fingers in his hair, encouraging him as he eagerly moved his head between your legs and tugging him closer when his tongue dipped through your folds. The whine that left you when he expertly found your clit and wrapped his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves went straight to his half-hard cock. 

It doesn’t take long for your hips to begin moving to match the perfect rhythm of his mouth and tongue. Your eyelids fluttered shut and your head dropped back, making you miss the way he was watching you with those all-seeing eyes of his like he was trying to sear the sight of you like this into his brain. 

Gojo was talented in everything he did, so he knew exactly how to turn you into a mess under his ministrations. With every suck of your clit, he brought you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm until your legs were shaking, your toes were curling, and your breath was coming in uneven gasps of his name.

You were right there, the tension in you about to snap, when a shrill beeping so loud that it hurt your ears cut straight through your pleasure. Your eyes flew open to see that while Gojo had been busy eating you out, the kitchen had begun to fill with smoke, the pan sitting next to you on the stove with a now-blackened pancake at the center of it the clear culprit. 

Panicking, you shoved Gojo out from between your legs and hopped off the counter as you raced to remove the pan and turn off the stove. With a pout on your lips, you turned on the tap and shoved the pan underneath the stream of cold water.

Gojo’s laughter was almost loud enough to drown out the smoke detector that was still going off and when he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, you could feel his body shook with each laugh. He then placed a kiss on your cheek — his mouth still wet. 

“I burnt the pancake,” you whined and you could feel his grin against your cheek. 

“Don’t worry, your pussy makes a much better breakfast than any pancake,” he assured you, but you were too busy frowning as you watched the remains of what had once been a pancake swirl down the drain to bother elbowing him in the stomach for his crass remark. 

Before you could sulk for any longer, he reached around you to turn off the faucet. He then sank down to his knees behind you, a firm hand coming up to rest on your back and push you forward until you were bent over the sink. You scrambled for purchase on the far edge of the sink’s rim, its metal cold underneath your fingers. 

“Satoru!” you protested, although considering the way you eagerly widened your stance to allow him easier access, your resistance was even flimsier than earlier. 

He pushed his shirt that you were wearing up to reveal your dripping wet pussy and he instinctively swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, still able to taste your arousal from earlier on it. He smirked, ready for more straight from the source. 

“Besides, why do I need a stack of pancakes with syrup when I’ve already got something sweet and sticky right in front of my face?” he continued, making you whimper as you felt his breath hot against your folds.

Your own impishness getting the better of you, you looked over your shoulder and gave him a wicked grin, loving nothing more than the sight of him on his knees.

“Well then, eat up. Don’t you know that you shouldn’t let your food go to waste?”

[seraphdreams]

butterfly

opening day

tooru oikawa; butterfly (located on the collarbone) - you’re his first customer of the day but somehow you just seem so innocent, so easy to manipulate

contains - manipulation/breeding, oblivious!reader

word count - 1.8k

whistling is heard from inside the dark shop. you can’t quite make out the body, other than your own standing in front of the reflective windows, black curtains draped from the interior. you check the time on your phone. 12pm, just like you scheduled but maybe they weren’t open yet. “i guess i’ll sit in my car and wait” you think to yourself. you could barely turn 90° before you hear the latch of the door unlock. a hue of dark brown swiftly treading past you.

you stare in silence as you watch the tall man shake the pack of cigarettes in his hand before lighting it with the small black lighter in his pocket. he takes a drag, a cloud of smoke dissolving in the air. he must’ve now noticed your presence, the way you gazed at him in awe. “are you my 12:00?” he asks, peering from the corner of his chestnut brown eyes.

his voice came out sweet despite the cig in his mouth, and warmed up your insides. you shuffled a bit, straightening out the hem of the tiny skirt you’re wearing. “yeah” you answer in a meek tone.

he rests his hand, holding the lighter and cigarette box, into his pocket. he walks to the glass door of the shop, opening it. you take notice of his lean built arms, muscles flexing as he pulls the door open.

“have a seat, there’s a catalog on the table. i’ll be in there shortly” the pretty boy said, flashing a quick smile as you head inside. the name tag on his shirt flashing from the light of the sun. “tooru oikawa”

a whiff of cologne hits you as you step into the small yet spacious parlor. beautiful framed renaissance drawings hung on the light grey/blue walls. you then look down at the shiny wood floor, not a spec of dust in sight. you directed yourself to the comfy looking couch, decorated in turquoise pillows. a black book catches your eye, labeled in white new times roman font, “ideas”. you flip through the pages, looking at multiple upon multiple various tattoos.

this was your first time getting a tattoo and you said to yourself that you wouldn’t get anything too big and something easy to cover up. “hmm?” you hum to yourself as you found a particular photo that caught your attention.

“found anything yet?” you hear oikawa call out as he walks through the door, the diminutive wind blowing his wavy tresses off his face.

he ambles to lean behind the couch you were sitting at, looking down at the book in your hands, a disregard for personal space. you feel his breath ghost against your neck causing you to shudder inconspicuously. you raise the catalog higher and point at the picture so he could see. a breathy chuckle escapes from his throat, you feel the way his eyes trail up your neck and back down.

“you want a butterfly?” he purrs against your skin. you tense up at the sudden intimacy, languidly nodding your head in response. “hmm? on your collarbone too?” he murmurs quietly, trailing his fingers against the skin. there’s a whoosh of cold air as the man shifts from behind you to sitting on the loveseat in front of you. he tilts his head sideways, brows furrowed.

“have you ever gotten a tattoo before?”. you watch his eyes linger on your bare skin, from your neck to your stomach, down to your thighs. you squirm in your seat. “no”. his face lights up in a smirk, a soft chuckle following suit. he gets up from the seat and stands between your slightly parted legs. you meet eyes with the form towering over you. his previous grin now more mischievous than before.

“maybe i should tell you about the procedure, hmm? just so you’re a bit more comfortable” he leans into your ear with that last word. you feel your heart beat fast, afraid that it might be too loud and he’ll hear. “oh, don’t be so nervous. i’ll take good care of you, cutie” he teases in a cocky tone. you watch as he kneels down slowly, keeping his stern eye contact with you. somehow the rock music playing in the background began to sound quieter, softer and the air you’re breathing felt thicker, holding tension.

his soft hand pressed against your thigh, pushing it away from the other, eyes widening at the sight before him. with his nimble fingers, he drew light patterns on the flesh. “i-i don’t think this is supposed to happen” you mutter to him, cheeks hot from embarrassment and confusion. his devious expression turned serious as your words swirled through his head.

“oh, so you don’t think i know what i’m doing?” his now anger filled eyes, glare up at you.

your breath hitched and you could feel nothing but a sense of danger close up your throat. time felt slow and your surroundings had vanished from your optic perspective. just you and tooru at that moment. “no, no, i-“ he got impatient at your babbling nonsense, adding on “i’m the best in the city. do you want the tattoo or not?”

“yes—yes, i do” you gulp. his expression turns calm, him lifting up your skirt. embarrassment floods even harder through your body but tooru doesn’t notice. he’s to caught up in how pretty your pussy looks, in those white lacy underwear; almost like a present wrapped just for him. he hooks his finger on the lace and pulls it down, revealing glistening folds and plump lips. you gasp at the cold air hitting your cunt. it doesn’t take long for tooru’s fingers to dance their way to your clit, tapping rhythmically.

you huff at the sensation, throwing your head back. you could hear him lowly chuckle in response. “tell me what you want me to do”. he pulls away his fingers and looks up at you with seductive eyes, watching you look down at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “please—make me feel good” you whimper timidly. the words sounded like music to his ears.

using his tongue, he glides down your slit, lapping up the slick. you grab his shoulder, digging crescent moon shapes into the flesh. warmth floods your core as he slips the muscle into your hole, exploring your walls. “nnghh..” you shudder as you clench around his tongue, the grip you have on him definitely leaving a bruise later. he keeps pumping using the sharp tip to curl against your velvet core. your shaky legs try to close around him but the iron force of his arm doesn’t let it happen.

your vision becomes blurry and tear filled as he thrashes his tongue on your sweet spot. loud pants and cries fill the nearly empty room. you use your free hand to rub circles on your neglected clit, begging for release. his ruthless speed doesn’t stop, tipping you further and further off the edge. you feel your heart pound harder when he reaches deeper in your walls, sloppily using his tongue and lips to satisfy you. the familiar feeling in your core begins to overpower you. in seconds, you’re gripping onto the couch for leverage as you gush and cream all over his tongue.

he licks his lips, lifting off one knee to stand over your trembling body, face to face with the swelling of his cock in his jeans. “did that feel good?” he coos, wiping the tears from your eyes. “yeah” you try to say but it comes out as more of a whisper. he settles back down in the loveseat across from you, staring at how your messy cunt drips. you pant even more but stop briefly at the sound of unzipping.

you turn your head to see veiny, pale hands wrapped around the girth that is his dick. beads of precum leaked from the top down to his fingers as he pumped himself a few times. noticing how you stare at him, he pats his thigh, calling you over.

“help me finish, yeah?”

you walk over, legs quivering from the previous action, and straddle his waist. he takes a second to examine you, eyes locked on that sacred spot of your collarbone. “that butterfly s’gonna look real nice on you..”.

he lines his cock up with your drenched opening, teasing the tip in and out. “tooru, please” you mutter. for you to be impaled on his cock, you still had that innocent glow to you, still very pliable. you rock your hips adjusting to his length as he slowly pushes you down further. a shaky moan leaves his lips once he bottoms out. you hum in impatience as he watches your body, moving up and down slightly.

“you must want to get off as well, hmm?” he whispers into your ear. you clench around his shaft, nodding your head. he reaches his hands below your skirt to wrap around your waist, encouraging you to move. you lift your weight up to slam back down, the tip of his cock ever so gently kissing your cervix. “ah!” you gasp. his fingers come up to lay flat on your tongue, reaching deeper down your throat. you continue the bouncing motions on his cock. his eyes narrow as he gazes at you with lust filled eyes, nothing but evil intent behind it.

a wanton whine slips from you as you drag your tight cunny on his length. he was big enough to have you gasping for air every time he hit that spot of yours and brings the both of you closer to reaching that high. skin slapping and squelching was all that filled your little ears. the way he grunted each time you slammed down on him, had you clenching tighter and tighter.

his dick twitched as he let out a choked out “fuuuckk”. you can tell he was close, closer than you were as he reached the digits from his mouth to down where you two connected, harsh circles causing friction on your clit. “no, no..too much!” you cry out in overstimulated pain. but he doesn’t care, those words not meaningful enough to create a barrier. you rest your head against his chest, panting as you lax. he ruts up into your cunt, angered by the fact you got lazy with him.

tears flow down your face, his cock bruising your cervix with each thrust and you can feel the way your body seizes in orgasm. “please! ah, please!” you cry, gushing around his shaft. it doesn’t take long for him to crumble with you, flooding his seed into your greedy cunt.

after you’ve both caught your breaths, he lifts you up. “ah ah ahh, don’t fall asleep on me now. we’ve still got a tattoo to do. and you got knocked up as a present, remember me” he winks conceitedly.

[burythelightdeepwithin]

free to thirst huh👀? what are your favourite things about Vergil and the things you find hot about him? I personally love his voice because it softens the intimidating side of him i guess? like if i were to meet him i would stay the fuck away from him until he would speak lmao.

Aaaaaaaah, favorite things about Vergil? Honestly I was very drawn to him first because he’s very funny from an outside perspective. Something about a super-threatening dude on a monobloc kept me wanting to learn more about him; something charming about how the mundane neatly folds into his extraordinary nature, how fans understand he’s powerful and complicated but can easily insert him into familiar environments that make him hilarious. That was the starting point, his very nature entertains me.

And then... watching him as a playable character... this applies to all DMC combo videos but the motion in the animations are so fluid and mesmerizing to watch. All the weapon strikes and poses and visual effects give a very satisfying weight and momentum to follow, and the showy action just seamlessly translates well to the character himself. Like watching players refine his moveset to the maximum works exactly with Vergil’s character as a very efficient and capable fighter; you can simply understand what feeling he’s meant to evoke by watching and playing him. It’s almost like a stim video I think? The feeling of fluidity is really satisfying to watch which kind of multiplies the experience of Watching Vergil; it bolsters the infatuation.

And then I actually look at him closer... and it’s like, some renders and screenshots aren’t that flattering; the spiked-up hair IS a little bit strange. But Vergil’s face is very handsome. He kind of has that robust, strong facial structure that isn’t ultra-masculine like Dante’s is. There’s a little bit of openness in Vergil’s eyes in comparison that makes him more endearing and enticing to look at. He has a very cute bow on his lips that’s wonderful to trace with your eyes. A lot of rounding out where Dante’s is angular that I find more appealing really. (And at this point I’m like, oh no, Vergil really is attractive to me.)

His outfit’s probably my favorite thing, to be honest. The one in 5, obviously. There’s so many lines on his vest that are drawn inwardly and downwards which reinforces a ‘V-like’ rhythm in his torso and actually I think it’s working like a necktie thing where it subliminally suggests you to look down his body to his crotch, but in general I think it forces a triangular look to his chest, which gives him that fit, athletic look. I’ve said before how the parting on the blue and darker blue parts of his vest tricks you into imagining a crop-top segmentation on him which are very tantalizing articles of clothing by emphasizing the chest.

He has a zipper lying right on his throat that draws your hands to a space that is so intimate and tender. And he’s wearing leather pants. Oh my God he’s wearing leather pants so tight  that putting a phone in its pockets would leave an impression if it had any. I don’t think I need to explain why form-fitting leather on long legs are sexy. The half-chaps allow for an uninterrupted flow of the length of his legs (where boots would be) that make him look even more graceful when you see it stand out from his coat. And all those buckles on his chaps? so careful and form-fitting, already a free set of motion-lines that aligns with the movement of his legs. The thin pointed end of his boots, long legs, oblong coattails AND the Yamato’s sheath all add to a very lovely rhythm of a free-flowing tassel to his body. He really has a graceful silhouette in 5 that just makes him inherently interesting to look at.

There’s just so many things about that him are SO subtly erotic, nothing really outright sexy about him but just a very careful construction of his coolness present in his design. It’s probably why I was so caught off-guard with my infatuation -- I couldn’t recognize I why I kept wanting to watch and read more about him until it’s too late.

[quietlyimplode]

Hi there! :) I have this prompt, but feel free to change it up however you like! Natasha comes back from a mission injured, stands under the shower still fully dressed and cares more about getting the blood out of her clothes than treating her injuries. Thank you so much if you can write something with it, but if not I completely understand.

Hey Anon! Thanks for your prompt, I actually loved writing this one. I hope it’s something along the lines of what you were after. Now a long one shot continued over in Ao3.

Content warnings for thoughts of non con sex (red room prostitution), dissociation; and fairly poor coping mechanisms, red room rememberings. But it’s not all bad when your Natasha has a Clint. (WC 1600)

.

She stumbles through the door to her room.

She wants Clint.

He’s with Thor and Tony, she heard them laughing as she snuck past.

She sucks back a sob as she looks at the blood on the dress and heads straight for his shower. She doesn’t bother to undress and steps inside. She can clean it in there. She lifts up the flowing tail of the dress and rubs it against the blood stains. Natasha’s breath stutters as she’s pushed into deep flashbacks, unable to stop the onslaught of images assaulting her mind.

.

It’s happened again.

Fear and adrenaline pumps through her body, and all she can focus on is, the next step, the next door, all the way to the bathroom. She trips on her own feet, grace gone, pain radiating from between her legs and lower back.

She bites back a sob as she pushes on the door to open it, stumbling through the threshold, cringing at the blood she’s smeared on the door.

The midnight blue dress has blood on it. Her blood. She’s supposed to return it to her handlers tomorrow; they don’t trust her with the $3000 commodity. It’s got to be cleaned.

Panic bubbles and she feels the vomit move up her throat. The punishment will be heinous. Her hand shakes as she remembers her fingernails being ripped off. She doesn’t want that to happen again.

Stop. She has to tell herself, and she shakes her hands out.

She can fix this. She can clean it. Her body is not her own. Tonight just confirmed that. Again.

The voice in her head is angry, mean and tells her that she deserves it, whatever happens she deserves it.

The mission has not failed. She completed the orders.

But.

The dress. They’ll be so angry. If she can wash it, if she can dry it, maybe they’ll be none the wiser. She just has to get to the shower.

Her movements are slow, the adrenaline is fading now. She turns on the shower to the hottest it can muster and waits until there’s steam billowing out. Shaking hands paw at the zip, her fine motor skills are shot. She schools her face and presses her lips together, breathing in and out through her nose, she gets herself together and pulls it down.

She cringes as she pulls the dress off her shoulders and down over her hips. Closes her eyes to the bruises that litter her own body, and her missing underwear. She wishes this was not her life. She wishes she was anywhere but here.. She wishes…

Sighing. Natasha picks up the dress and turns the water down. She steps inside and inspects the blood stains on the dress. They mostly reside on the lower half when the sex had got rough and he’d brought out a knife. Shallow cuts, he’d said, pushing her dress up. The knife had played around her stomach and then he’d pulled the dress down to cut under her breasts whilst he’d sat on her hips. Shallow cuts.

She’d left then, left her body and retreated in her mind, gone to a place a mind had conjured long ago. When he’d finished he’d pushed her dress back down, taking the blood with it. He’d held the knife to her neck; forcing her to come back, and smiled as he took her underwear. He’d signed the forms she presented to him; loyalty to the Red Room and supplier of guns. Missions success at the cost of her dignity. A nothing sum to them, shame she knows she shouldn’t feel runs deep. He’d said goodbye and that he’d see her again. She promptly vomited out the front of the building, away from watching eyes, unable to keep it down, and feeling disgust that she’d have to endure this again.

She rubs the dress hard. Watches as red pours down the sink. Smiles as it washes out at her hand. Satisfied she throws the dress on the floor and turns the water up appreciating the burn in all her cuts and sore body. She wants to sterilise herself from the inside out. Pain is a friend that overrides the shame.

.

Clint smiles. He wonders where Natasha is, she had a quick mission in the Embassy of Morocco and should have been home hours ago. He hums the song in his head and makes his way to his room, he hears the shower running and grins; walking into the bathroom.

He stops still when he sees her, fear dumping it’s ugliness throughout his body. She’s repetitively trying to clean her dress, but it’s a sisyphean task, because the cut on her face drips down onto it and she begins to clean again.

“Nat?”

There’s no answer. He strips his clothes to his underwear and steps in the shower. He sucks in a breath at the cold water streaming. He’d assumed it was hot by how red her skin was. He stands over her, taking the full brunt of the water, clasps his hands over hers and repeats her name and that she’s here with him. It doesn’t seem to help, even touch, not breaking her out of the repetitive task. He’s at a loss of what to do next.

He turns the water off and sits down, pulling her down with him.

She shivers as her dissociative brain snaps her back to the present. She startles feeling his skin against his and pushes away from him. She looks down at her wet dress and whimpers softly. He stands back up and helps her to do the same, her focus on the dress increases, rubbing it, rolling it in her hands even without the water on.

“It’s got to be clean.” She tells him forlornly. He doesn’t understand

“Ok. We can do that.” He says softly.

He points to the zip, and motions for her to unzip it. She follows his cues and steps out of the dress.

He takes it gently from her and puts it into the sink. She stands still with her bra and underwear on, staring at his every movement, as he fills the sink with water and places it inside. She swipes at the blood on her head and he passes her a towel to hold there. She does it without question.

He wraps another towel around her and one around himself, glad the the heater is on.

“Ok. We can leave it now. It will be ok.” He assures.

He has no idea what’s happening,

“They’re going to send me to Psyops. They’re going to take my fingernails.” She says monotonously staring at the dress. “I am a bad girl. I cost them money.” He closes his eyes to her words. How many times he has to tell her that she is not a commodity. Not something to be used; her value is not based on what she can provide.

He recognises that she’s caught somewhere between the past and the present, not rejecting his presence but having no idea of where she currently is. He knows this dissociation when he sees it. He leads her out of the cold bathroom, linking her pinky finger with his. She pulls away and positions herself in the corner of the room, squeezed in with her knees to her chest. Her hand holding the towel to her forehead and the other around her legs, holding herself together.

Clint hates this.

Hates that that’s a safe space for her.

He rummages around for an over sized hoodie, and sweats for her to wear. Places the sweats next to her but the hoodie he squeezes quickly over her head, hoping that his smell permeates into her brain. She doesn’t react, and the thousand yard stare is back. She doesn’t even seem to mind being in wet underwear. He quickly dresses, then pulls the bed covers off the bed and drags them to floor by her side to keep her warm.

Small things. Grabbing a water bottle, and his phone, he settles against the wall.

He contemplates reading out loud to her, but his book is too far away.

He thinks about holding her hand, but she’s hugging her knees.

He decides on waiting. Perhaps the most difficult of tasks.

Two hours he holds the pattern. Scrolling through apps on his phone, and generally entertaining himself. When she starts rocking and hitting her head against the wall. It’s shocks him into touching her and pulling her away from her safe space into his lap. Her overloaded brain no longer able to cope with the disconnect between the past and present.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeats.

“You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Clint whispers back.

She’s not entirely with it but he’s able to cover her body in blankets, in warmth, spooning her and protecting her body with his.

“Close your eyes.” He says gently, and she follows his order.

“Think of the beach.”

He starts by describing the slow breath of the waves, in and out. The soft crash to the shore.

“Breathe.” He tells her.

And she does.

He describes the sounds of the sea and sand. The smell and sights, as he hears them.

“Breathe.” He whispers in her ear.

And she does.

He thinks she’s listening, and it calms his heart down as her breathing syncs with his. But then she forgets and her body fixes, flashbacks or caught in memories he doesn’t know.

“Breathe.” He reminds her.

And she does.

They stay in the holding pattern, gentle reminders holding her until the morning light dawns.

Read more.

[existslikepristin]

Sounds

Just my ultimate bias doing ultimate bias things. This is just the intro. There will be more to come. Thanks also to worldsover and EhBeeSeeDih for most excellent editing help!

Tags: TheLounge, Dreamcatcher, Gahyeon, Siyeon, Yoohyeon, other members all referenced, some unnamed male, lots of butt stuff, very light bondage, brief watersports (pee), various other kinks referenced, I just want everyone to know Gahyeon is the best human

Gahyeon observed the consistency of the lube that dripped, nice and slowly, from the fingertips of her black latex glove. She only wore the one, leaving her other hand bare. Besides the glove, all she wore was an oversized baggy tee shirt and a pair of panties that weren't her own. From behind her, the up-close-yet-distant sound of amateur porn moans reached her ears. It made her smile.

Not long after Gahyeon had revealed her desire to dominate to the rest of Dreamcatcher, she’d first been approached by Dami. Dami initially showed a similar interest in dominating others, but was equally interested in being a pet.

Gahyeon hesitated for some time, but eventually agreed to give it a try. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Dami made a pleasant, calm, obedient pet. Gahyeon never really had many ideas for commands to give to a panda, though, so perhaps her perspective was a bit skewed.

Some time later, the two got involved in a bit of role playing as well. Dami would be the prince, and Gahyeon would be one of a variety of higher-ranking royalty that Dami would then have to satisfy. Gahyeon would certainly never admit that this was one of her favorite roles to play in her escapades with her members. Mostly because it meant she received lots of massages from Dami’s delightfully delicate hands.

Dami was a grunter.

Gahyeon’s situations with Jiu and Handong were quite similar to each other in the sense that neither of them really expressed a major interest in being dominated.

Jiu was more of a standard, every day, give-and-take type of lover, but just happened to enjoy a bit of pain. Gahyeon was always happy to provide that little extra sadistic touch that would push Jiu over the edge of climax.

Jiu was a lip-biter.

Handong didn’t need a dom. She wanted somebody with a dick she could wreck herself with. Gahyeon had a growing collection of dildos and strap-ons to choose from. It was as simple as that between them.

Handong was a shouter.

Sua was, as expected, the most difficult to work with. She was a switch. But while domming, she was often excessively overpowering, demanding that her subs participate in her kinks, rather than compromising with them or catering to their desires. She had serious negotiation issues. All of which meant that Gahyeon was the go-to option when the other members wanted to be dominated.

Of course, Sua would reach out to Gahyeon to be dominated as well. But she was a bit of a back seat driver. Or a severe brat. Or uncooperative. It depended on the day. Gahyeon would often just suggest they do something less kinky. Of course, she wasn’t about to cut Sua out of her sex life entirely, given their friendship and Sua’s rocking body.

Sua was a screamer.

Yoohyeon, on the other hand, was quite the fun submissive. She was willing to try anything at least once, up to and including the most depraved acts Gahyeon could come up with. Once or twice, Gahyeon had even directed her to do some things sarcastically, but Yoohyeon complied immediately, no questions asked, resulting in both of them discovering some kinks that neither of them realized they had.

One of Gahyeon’s favorite aspects to domming Yoohyeon was her eagerness to be filmed. Gahyeon’s SD card case was an absolute treasure trove of videos. It didn’t matter if she was far from her members, because she could always count on some long-distance submission from Yoohyeon. And it never hurt to have something to watch when she just wanted to be alone and masturbate.

Yoohyeon was a moaner.

But as much fun as Gahyeon could have with those five women, Siyeon stood out from the pack as Gahyeon’s favorite. She had a hard time fully explaining the favoritism, but as far as she was concerned, it was undeniable.

Siyeon presented herself outwardly as confident, bold, even. Gahyeon expected in the beginning that Siyeon would have no interest at all in submitting to her, or anyone else for that matter. She quite literally wore the pants.

One hot summer night, however, Siyeon sheepishly asked Gahyeon to spank her. It seemed innocent enough, as far as sex acts went, but it escalated gradually. Over the course of several months, Siyeon’s outer shell melted away. She became Gahyeon’s clay to mold.

Everybody else let Gahyeon dominate them because she gave them what they wanted.

Siyeon begged Gahyeon to dominate her because she wanted to serve and please.

That wasn’t to say Siyeon wasn’t getting what she wanted out of the action of course. Just that what she wanted happened to be whatever Gahyeon wanted. It was the perfect match.

Siyeon was an instrument that Gahyeon knew exactly how to play.

The sexual activities of the members weren’t obvious to the average viewer, except some of the wild shit Sua would do, but that was easy to pass off as “girl group popularity-mandated gay bait.” Every once in a while though, Gahyeon would get the itch to break Siyeon’s façade down in public. The lightest brush of the fingertips, a sidelong glare, anything could be the trigger if Gahyeon did it with the proper intention.

She’d even gotten so bold once as to do it on live video, streaming to their fans with Jiu and Sua to either side. Siyeon nearly collapsed before Gahyeon let her go. That same night, Sua practically molested Siyeon, but Gahyeon was vindictively proud to see that it didn’t have the same effect.

Gahyeon watched as one last drop of lube fell from her fingers back into the bowl she'd poured it into for easy access. It was just viscous enough to stay on a surface, but wasn’t tacky. Rather, it was slick, as if there were no friction at all between her digits.

“How are you feeling, my wolf?”

“I-I’m excited, Gahyeon.”

Gahyeon preferred hearing her own name falling out of Siyeon’s mouth. The sound gave her a twisted sense of romance, as opposed to the supposedly traditional “Mistress” or “Ma’am.”

Gahyeon turned to look for the first time since getting lost in her thoughts. Siyeon was tied up, albeit only with the shirt and pants she had been wearing earlier in the day, rather than a rope. The knots that her sleeves formed were weak and could fall apart with the slightest force, but Siyeon was much too good of a girl for that. It wasn't her physical bonds that held her still.

There was a twinge of disappointment amidst Gahyeon’s glee at seeing that Siyeon was looking, entranced, back at her. She had, after all, dictated that Siyeon watch the video that was playing on her tablet.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Siyeon gulped nervously, but Gahyeon could see the slightest, quivering smile touch the corners of her lips. “Sorry, Gahyeon. It’s just… I think I’m extra struck by your beauty today.”

Gahyeon smiled and placed her ungloved, unlubed hand on top of Siyeon’s head, stroking her hair softly. “Oh babe. You know flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere. It’s just going to get my fingers deeper inside you. And you'd better watch out, because you're getting close to the knuckles.”

Her gentle hair stroking turned into a rough grip, which she used to turn Siyeon's gaze away, back to the tablet.

"Don't you want to learn from this video, Siyeon? I made it just for you."

"Yes, I do."

"Then you should be watching. Look, or you're going to miss the best part."

Siyeon's eyes slowly refocused themselves onto the video. It was Yoohyeon, all but limp in a full-nelson-under-the-legs hold. Whoever was holding her up, slamming their cock repeatedly up her asshole, they weren't fully visible, but it was easy to guess their identity. Yoohyeon's eyes rolled up so far, they looked like they might do a full three-sixty at any moment. Anyone viewing the video might have been concerned for her well-being if not for her dopey smile.

"See, my wolf? She's such a good little slut. Keep watching and you might learn something."

Gahyeon let go of Siyeon's head, confident she'd follow instructions this time, and reached around to feel how ready she was. As expected from her favorite toy, and the hours of teasing Gahyeon had subjected her to up to this point, she was so wet that Gahyeon could have gone swimming inside her.

Her gloved hand dipped into the lube again, then made its way down the cleft of Siyeon's ass, coating the entirety. If she didn't already have very specific plans, Gahyeon would have considered using it as massage oil and kneading Siyeon’s beautiful butt cheeks until the bright red hand prints on them disappeared.

A series of moans came from the tablet speakers again, and Gahyeon smirked at what she knew was coming next, which was Yoohyeon.

"Eyes open, Siyeon. You really don't want to miss this."

Gahyeon watched Siyeon’s fingers wiggle beneath their impromptu bonds. Yoohyeon's moans shifted into a long, guttural shout, and a stream of pale yellow liquid shot out of her. Siyeon’s butt visibly clenched.

"What a fantastic slut she is, hm? Cumming so hard from her ass being used as a fuck hole that she can't even control herself, pissing all over like an idiot."

Even from behind her, Gahyeon could sense Siyeon’s devious smile forming. "Well that's rude to say about her," Siyeon said, risking life and limb.

Gahyeon responded with a series of powerful smacks, leaving the handprints already on Siyeon’s ass glowing red, as well as a haphazard smattering of lube. "Shut uuup," she whined, "She got fucked stupid and pissed herself. You know what I mean."

Siyeon turned back over her shoulder to show Gahyeon her smile. Fresh tears flowed from her eyes. "Yoohyeon's always a fool though," she managed to joke through the pain.

One last, full-motion spank made Siyeon’s smile briefly turn into a grimace.

"Is that what you're going to do to me too?"

Gahyeon resumed her steady lubrication of Siyeon’s entire backside. "Someday, maybe. But we have a long way to go before you'll be able to experience that level of pleasure without pain. And trust me, the inside of your ass is not the part of your body where you want to be feeling pain. We'll build you up to it."

There was minimal resistance against Gahyeon’s middle finger as it slipped fully into Siyeon’s butt. Siyeon hissed and her toes curled. Gahyeon kissed her neck, shushed into her ear, and used her ungloved hand to stroke from Siyeon’s breasts down to her clit and back.

After a moment of calming down, Siyeon whispered, "If anybody can get me there, Gahyeon, it's you."

Gahyeon struggled to hold back her cutesy giggle, even though she knew that it wouldn't make her seem like less of a dom to Siyeon. "We're going to do, at most, two fingers today. I don't want you masturbating with anything bigger than that on your own, okay? It might feel like you can do more, but we're not taking any chances. Understood?"

Siyeon’s shoulders flexed and toes spread as Gahyeon wiggled her inserted finger. "Y-yes Gahyeon," she stuttered.

"Good. Now, let's practice your safe word, shall we?"

Siyeon hesitated, but relented anyway. “Apricot…”

Gahyeon slowly removed her finger. “Perfect,” she said ever-so-softly, reveling in the goosebumps rising on Siyeon’s arms. “Was that okay? Nothing hurting?”

“It was perfect.” Siyeon used the same word Gahyeon had.

“Well then, let’s get started.”