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alexiroflife · 9 months ago

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"first day"

fluff, happy fushiguro family, slice of life, megs' first day of school send-off

Synopsis: you've been dating toji for a while now and megumi subconsciously calls you mom for the first time on his way out the door

to sum it up: you adore the little family you've come to be a part of

WC: 1,701

Warning(s): none

"Megs!" you call out, standing by the front door awaiting the dark-haired boy's arrival. He soon shuffles around the corner from his room, throwing a bag over his shoulder with a tired expression on his face.

His father turns to watch him walk in, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. "The hell were you doing in there that took you so long?"

"Nothing," Megumi grumbles, moving to brush past the two of you to rush to the door. "I just wanted to look presentable, that's all."

"So you took thirty minutes to get ready?" Toji quirks a brow.

"Believe it or not, dad, some would say that's not enough time to get ready in the morning."

"Not at all, actually," you agree.

Toji tugs the corner of his mouth in judgment. " Well, you should know," he says to you. "You spend at least ten years in the bathroom when we have somewhere to go."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "That's such an overreaction. I never take any longer than an hour." Megumi and his father exchange knowing looks and you place your hand on your hip. "What?"

"Don't worry baby," Toji assures you. "It's okay to be in denial."

"We've timed it before. The last time we all went out to dinner as a family, you took two and a half hours to get dressed," Megumi adds.

"That's only because I had to shower and pick out an outfit then do my hair and makeup," you defend.

"Isn't that a little overkill? It takes me half that time to shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and get some homework done."

"Whatever. Your sister would understand," you sigh.

"Unfortunately, she may be worse than you."

"Women," Toji tsks. You slap his bicep and he pretends to flinch, smirking down at you playfully. "Ouch."

"Alright, well, I'm ready now. I don't wanna be late," the sixteen year old says, turning back to reach for the door handle.

"Ah ah ah, wait!" you stop him. "You're not going anywhere without me getting a good look at you. Turn around, I wanna see how the uniform fits."

Megumi lowers his head and complies, turning back around stiffly for you to admire him. You press your hand to your lips to conceal your smile, eyes gleaming with pride as you look over the sharp navy jacket and pants he adorns.

"Awwww," you coo. "It fits perfectly! How does it feel?"

"Pretty good," Megumi nods, moving his arm around slightly to show his mobility in the fabric. "It's comfortable too. It shouldn't be a problem during missions."

"I still can't believe how quickly time has gone by," you muse. "You're already going into your first year at Jujutsu High! Are you excited?"

"You better be," Toji grunts. "Your uncle Gojo hasn't gotten off my ass about your enrollment for years. At least now, he'll finally shut up."

"I still don't understand why I have to have him as a teacher. He's such a moron, I doubt he'll teach us anything useful," Megumi mumbles.

"Moron or not, he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and he's helped out so much. I'm sure he'll be able to give you a good experience," you say positively.

"We talkin' about the same Gojo here? The one who trashed my house playing tag with Megumi and the dogs in the living room?" Toji points out and his son grits his teeth at the memory.

"Oh come on, Satoru was like twenty one back then. I can only imagine the crazy shit you've with the kids when you were raising them," you tease.

"You don't even want to know," Megumi exhales.

"Please, you came out just fine, didn’t ya?” Toji says, reaching out his hand to ruffle at Megumi's spiky hair. The teen recoils, craning his head away and shielding himself with his arm.

"Quit it. I'm not five anymore."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're all grown up now, I know. Gonna be a first-grade sorcerer before I can even blink an eye."

"Who said that I would be first grade? I'm only a first year."

"Yeah, and look at who your pops is," Toji grins. "Plus, you got an advantage that I never had. You'll do just fine."

Megumi hums indifferently, doubting himself momentarily but accepting the words nonetheless. "Alright, are we ready?"

"No, not yet!" you pull out your phone quickly and open the camera. "I need to get pictures."

The blue-eyed boy slumps. "(Y/n), I gotta go."

"I know, I know, just a few," you promise, holding your camera up to capture his awkward figure in the frame. "Okay, smile."

Megumi doesn't, and of course you don't actually expect him to. Instead, he calmly stares at the camera with his arms at his sides, unsure of what to do with themselves. Toji moves to stand behind you, leaning down to take a peak at the million pictures you're snapping.

"Toji, go stand with him so I can get one with the both of you."

The two groan simultaneously. "Doll, can we just focus on gettin' the kid to school?"

"It's fine. His stuff is already moved into his dorm. We have time."

"But-"

"Shut up and go stand with your son, now," you glare firmly up at the green-eyed man and he huffs.

"Yes, ma'am."

Toji raises a hand to his hip and tilts his head boredly as he stands beside Megumi, the two of them sharing the exact same blank stare as they look into the camera. You squeal happily. "You two are so cuteee!"

"We done, now?"

"No, I wanna get one more with Megs, and then I'm good." The boys give you a look, but you wave them off. "I mean it! Gosh, here Toji. Take our picture."

Toji obliges, grabbing your phone from your hand as you rush over to the tall boy. His expression melts into serenity as you place your hands on his shoulders and lean your head against his arm, smiling widely at the camera as a hint of a smile touches Megumi's lips.

Toji's heart warms at the sight, watching the way his son grows comfortable in your presence. The picture of the two of you looks so natural t to him like you are meant to be a part of his family, which he knows you are.

He snaps the photo and nods. "Got it."

You exhale, turning to face Megumi. You brush your hands over his shoulders to straighten his jacket, ridding it of any lint and wrinkles. "Okay, Megumi, please remember to be safe."

"I know. I will," he nods.

"And don't be too reckless when it comes to training."

"I won't."

"And try to make friends. I know how easy it is for you to push others away."

"I'll try."

You press your lips together with a final sigh, looking over Megumi's face warmly. You wrap your arms safely around him into a hug, your emotions getting the best of you. You have spent the past year caring for Megumi like your own, and watching him head off to achieve his goals makes your heart swell with joy and fear all the same.

"Text me or your father or Tsumiki if you need anything. Anything at all," you tell him. He returns your hug gently.

"Okay," he chuckles lightly and you pull away. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"...I know you will..." you pout. "Okay, I'll let you go. Good luck. I hope you have an amazing first day. I'll see you at the end of the week, yeah?"

"Mhm. I'll call you to let you know how the day went later."

"Please do."

Toji hands you back your phone and walks toward the door with Megumi. "Let's get a move on," he says. He leans over quickly to peck your lips farewell. "I'll be back in a few."

"Don't speed, Toji."

"Speeding gets you places quicker," he winks and you suck your teeth disapprovingly. Megumi opens the door, his dad gripping the frame.

"Bye, boys. Stay out of trouble," you wave, eyes glassy as you watch Megumi walk out.

"See ya, doll."

"Bye, mum."

The three of you freeze the second the words hit the air, everyone stilling in their tracks.

You feel your heart burst as overwhelming happiness consumes you. Megumi keeps his face forward, hiding his reddening cheeks as he processes what he has just said. Toji stares at the back of his son's head, eyes wide, before he turns to look at you to find your shocked, giddy face.

You don't have any time to reply when Megumi clears his throat suddenly, sweat dotting his forehead, and he walks rigidly out of the house and swiftly down the hall without looking back.

Toji stays behind, keeping an eye on you when you look up at him, stunned. "Did he just...?" you murmur.

"Yep."

Your eyes immediately well with tears and your lips wobble, your hands flying over your mouth. "He sees me as his mom?" you whisper.

Toji chuckles, ducking down to you with his hand still gripping the door. "Of course he does. He's always adored you. Him and Tsumiki."

"I'm gonna cry."

The assassin chuckles softly, pressing his thumb to the corner of your eye gently. "You're already cryin.'"

"Shut up," you sniff. "God, I love those kids so much. I just wanna give him all the hugs in the world."

"And you'll be able to. There isn't a better woman on this planet to be there for the kids," he kisses your cheek. "That's why I plan t'marry you someday."

"Fuck you, Toj. You're gonna make me cry even more."

"Sorry, baby. Can't help talkin' about it," he leans back to the doorway. "Let me get the kid squared away and make sure he's not dyin' of embarrassment, then I'll be back to talk to ya about makin' this official."

"You're being for real?"

"Of course I am."

You lower your hands and beam. "Tell Megumi I love him and get back here soon."

"I will," he hums. "But I thought you said no speeding?"

"Just- make sure the two of you at least get to the school in one peace."

He smirks. "Will do, doll."

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ofbatsandballads · 3 months ago

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have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#I love him I love him I love him #you all don’t understand how much I love this man. ugh. why can’t he exist?!

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garden0fyves · 13 days ago

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joel miller hcs ♡ pre-outbreak

sfw

boyfriend!joel who feels his pretty young girlfriend is too good for him. he sees the way your eyes light up at the most miscellaneous of things and simply adores the way you’re the sunshine to his rainy day. he feels that you should have a chance to get settled and be happy, not be with your neighbor that just-so-happens to be an old man in need of a break. his feelings don’t matter, though, because everytime you come back from work you’re immediately at his house, smiling sweetly at him and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips.

boyfriend!joel who can’t take his eyes off of you while you take care of his sarah. the way you cook breakfast for her in his shirt and some shorts and dance around with his little girl while listening to “hey ya!” by outkast. sarah dances while mixing the pancake mix you’d ask her to, and you take care of the eggs and bacon. joel’s heart hasn’t felt this full since sarah was born. it’s on this day that joel realizes he wants to marry you. give you the kids you wistfully speak about while watching sarah fall asleep between the two of you. he wants to give you the family you deserve.

boyfriend!joel who glares at sarah’s soccer coach that keeps ogling you everytime you come to watch his little girl play. he doesn’t care what you wear, the short shorts and replica of sarah’s jersey are the least of his concern. it’s the eyes of the coach, amongst other fathers attending the game, that pisses him off. he knows not to make a scene because sarah would kill him, probably wouldn’t speak to him for days, but he can’t help the way his fist clenches and his teeth grind together. his anger clears when your sweet giggle floats through his ears, and your free hand that you’d been holding a sprite in tangles with his own. “you can’t possibly be jealous, baby.” you’d purred, grinning up at your boyfriend. “i’m goin’ home with you and my little girl after this. don’t worry about who’s lookin’ joel, they can look all they want.”

boyfriend!joel who takes pride in his girlfriend having a better job than him. you’re 28, fresh out of medical school with a doctorate in orthopedics. you work at the hospital down the street from sarah’s school and joel swears he has never been this attracted to scrubs before. he remembers the time you had to bring him lunch because he’d left it, and he can only presume you were on break or didn’t have any patients because you’d arrived in your scrubs with a happy smile on your face. “joel ‘s that your girl?” “mmmhm, that’s my doctor.”

boyfriend!joel who cannot for the life of him keep his hands to himself. it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, joel is going to have this hands on you! when you’re going grocery shopping his hand is settled on you waist, walking in step with you as you browse the aisles. sarah usually trots ahead of you two while talking about soccer or her school day if you’ve gone afterwards. when you’re at home, even if you’re just watching a movie or cooking, he’s kissing the side of your head and asking you the most miscellaneous of questions. you’ve discovered his love language is physical touch. (as if you could miss it)

nsfw

boyfriend!joel who eats you out like he’s never eaten before. he’s dragging his tongue through your folds while his fingers busy themselves with rubbing your puffy clit. he’s made you cum once already by ordering you to use him, to move your hips as you needed to cum on his face. now he’s ignoring your cries for him to slow down, your soft cry of “‘s too much” only fuels him further, makes him eat your pussy like a madman. joel knows what makes you tick, he knows what spots to hit to make that pretty cunt clench and he does it for you every. single. time.

boyfriend!joel who can’t help but to fuck you dumb. he’s never trying to overwhelm you, to make you go stupid on his cock. no that’s never his intention. but he can’t deny how pretty you look with your eyes glossed over, fingers digging into his back, and your lips parted in nothing but ecstasy. he enjoys the way his smart girl loses all her senses with a little dick. he enjoys knowing his smart girl is just a slut with a degree, and it makes him harder the more he thinks about it.

boyfriend!joel who couldn’t control himself after you mentioned wanting kids. you’re talking with your friends that’d come over for a bit, and the statement comes out soft and sweet. “i want kids, i just don’t know if joel wants to start over.” you’d hummed, smiling softly at your friend’s 6 month old daughter. the evening passed quickly after that, and with sarah gone with her friends, joel has the entire night to make sure you have that baby you want so badly. it isn’t long before you find yourself in full nelson, pussy gushing and tears falling from your eyes. “joel- oh-” you gasp out as your eyes roll and your pussy tightens around your boyfriend’s dick. joel groans from above you, pulling his hips all the way out to snap them back against you. “aht, baby, you gotta take it all. you wanted a baby, i jus’ gotta give it to you. take it pretty mama, take this dick.”

boyfriend!joel who talks you through every orgasm. either the sweetest of phrases leavehis lips or the nastiest. joel likes to watch you fall apart with a satisfied grin on his face. “that’s it, my good girl. mmhm, let go f’me sweet girl. that’s it- jus’ like that baby.” and he’s leaning over to kiss you softly while your body shakes from your orgasm, your eyes are closed to prevent them from rolling and he finds it cute because he can still tell. he knows how good he makes you feel. it’s his pride and joy.

boyfriend!joel who knows how to use his accent. he knows you aren’t originally from texas and that southern accent simply do something to you. you believe it to be the huskiness of his voice mixed with the deep rumble of the sheer power of his voice, it all melts over you like a blanket. joel likes to whisper in your ear, deep and low. “thas’ my pretty slut, hm? takin’ this dick like she’s a professional.” and you’re moaning, clenching the sheets as he presses down on the middle of your back. his voice only becomes clearer with each stroke, and he’s practically splitting you down the middle while whispering in your ear. “come now, darlin’. there’s no way you’re cumming offa listening to me.” he laughs this low and raspy laugh that is so sexy to you. you can only whine in response, glancing over your shoulder with a little pout decorating your puffy lips. “can’t help it, baby.” you whimper out, not a thought going through your mind save for joel joel joel.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou #joel tlou #tlou 1 #tlou smut #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #the last of us

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lady-lauren · 5 months ago

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❥ SATORU GOJO X SUGURU GETO X NANAMI KENTO X TOJI FUSHIGURO X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 4.7k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: fivesome gangbang, some (okay, um, a lot) of m/m action, ass play, ass fucking, vaginal fucking, double penetration, throat fucking, hair pulling, snowballing (cum + mouth + spitting in another mouth), creampie, excessive cum in all your holes, cum swallowing, spitting (it's Toji, he spits on someone's cock, don't ask questions), praise, use of "good girl", some degradation, they're all nasty fuckers, Toji does show up eventually I promise he's just ~late~

~Happy Halloween~ let's go out with a bang

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

This is not what you signed up for.

Satoru opens your thighs in his lap, long fingers spreading your pussy wide. A smirk kisses the back of your throat as you shiver, flushing so unbearably hot as Suguru’s dark gaze smolders at the sight of your drooling cunt.

Suguru’s mouth fastens over your pussy and you arch in Satoru’s hold, whining with every wicked flick and suck of his warm tongue. Your arms tangle back around Satoru’s neck, nails scratching down his skin, knotting in snowy hair already melting with sweat.

“Be a good boy and make her cum, Sugu. I want our girl nice and loose when we fuck her.”

This isn’t—you never imagined this is where you’d end up, in Satoru Gojo’s bed, an electric hum from the frat party below thumping through the walls, pounding the floor.

When you signed the form to have an upperclassman mentor, you pictured a few lackluster coffee meetups and texts about class schedules. Something more…casual, cursory, trivial.

Only Satoru Gojo is none of the above.

Day one he sunk his fingers into you, charming and carefree, with a pride only the most popular name on campus can muster. The whole year has been a blur of gentle loopings of his string around you until you trusted him. And you do, especially as his strong fingers press into your rib cage to keep you from squirming away from Suguru’s mouth.

Every walk to class with his arm around your shoulder, every late night text with just a little too much innuendo, every party with his fingers toying just a little close to the edge of your skirt. It’s all been building to this.

“Told ya I had the best end of year present~,” Satoru sing-songs in your ear.

Neon lights pulsate purple, long black hair catching and reflecting every strobe as Suguru leans in deeper, muscular shoulders rolling as he presses his nose to your clit. He groans in some sick mixture of pleasure and annoyance at Satoru.

“Whose name is she going to scream out? Yours or mine?” The man between your legs is toying with fire.

“Or mine?”

Your heart kickstarts in your chest at the new voice ringing in your ears, baritone and slicing through the heady room.

“Ah, Nanami! Didn’t expect you to respond to the group text.”

Satoru’s voice is still so playful, like he doesn’t have you open and vulnerable and trembling in his lap. You cling on to him tighter, jumping and gasping as Suguru slides his tongue over your swollen clit.

“Well,” Nanami looks directly at you, through you, shutting the door behind him, “this year your little pet is especially pretty.”

Being Satoru’s fledgling meant Suguru was always around—you know him, feel only the normal amount of embarrassment as he pushes his tongue into your cunt—but Nanami? He’s barely acknowledged your presence until now.

Nanami shrugs his button-down shirt over his arms, stalking the few paces to where you’re being held open and eaten. He reaches down and digs his strong fingers into Suguru’s hair, holding his slick mouth against your cunt.

“Ride his face and make a mess of him.”

Your hips roll before you can even think to stop them, lashes fluttering as you listen and start to grind against Suguru’s face. You can feel his smirk as his arms slip between your thighs and Satoru’s, jerking until you’re sliding farther down damp sheets.

Suguru locks his arms around your legs, blunt fingernails digging into your thighs. He sucks on your clit until you’re whining and cooing, all the while being shoved deeper into your pussy by the consistent tug from Nanami.

“Atta girl, you like his mouth, yeah?” Satoru pats your cheek.

“Ah, y-yeah, f-feels so good, fuck.”

His hot tongue dips deeper in your folds, tip prodding your fluttering hole. He slips in for just a moment, grinning as he teases and pulls back out to smooth the wide flat of his tongue against your clit again.

“Oh Sugu, fuck, please, oh god, in me, put your t-tongue back in me.”

“Are you gonna deny our girl? She’s practically shaking.”

Satoru lets your head fall to the mattress between his thighs, fisting his cock just above your eye line. The pump of his hand is lewd, already wet from the pre leaking down his slit from watching Suguru eat you out.

Nanami takes one of your tits in hand, fingers mean against your nipple like they are in Suguru’s hair. He rolls the bud between thumb and forefinger, making you gasp and arch into his palm.

“Sensitive,” he grunts. “Did that make her wet, Geto?”

“Oh fuccckk, I…”

“That’s right, be a good girl.” Suguru’s voice vibrates down your pussy and you’d scream if it weren’t for Nanami’s fingers slipping between your parted lips. He teases them around your tongue, dragging them out so he can use your spit to swirl around your puffy nipple.

“Oh fuck, oh god, like that, ‘s good,” you writhe on the bed, your legs squeezing around Suguru’s cheeks.

Your eyes blink open and your vision is filled with Satoru’s long cock, pretty and angry and throbbing in the color-changing lights.

Your body trembles as you come undone, tongue lolling from your mouth like you’re dying to taste Satoru. It’s a fast, painful kind of pleasure, like Suguru sucked it from your core only to swallow it for himself.

He watches the aftershocks of pleasure racing across your skin like a cat not yet done with his meal, your legs still shivering as you pant and try to catch your breath.

Suguru sits to his knees, shaking Nanami’s hold away with a slight sneer. He’s tempted to wipe his messy mouth with the back of his hand, but thinks better of it when he catches Satoru’s hungry gaze. He leans forward, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss onto Toru’s lips, letting him taste you. They both groan, Satoru pulling away only to trace his tongue around Suguru’s lips, licking at his ruined cheeks.

“Stop doing that before I get jealous,” you pur from below them, tugging at the long hair that brushes Suguru’s back so he will bring his lips to yours.

“Jealous?” he mumbles into your mouth, “I just had your pussy in my mouth and you already miss me?”

You grasp his messy jaw in your hand, fingers mean, bruising. It’s rougher than he expects.

“Toru said this is my present.”

“Sure is, sweetheart,” your head jerks to where Nanami stands next to the bed, fisting his naked cock, “now let’s get something else inside you, hm?”

“You know the rules. I get her pussy first.”

Bodies reposition like this is a dance with familiar steps. Satoru settles below you, smearing his cock through your sloppy folds and grinning when you tremble from how sensitive your clit is already.

“God you’re fucking soaked. Good job, Sugu.”

All three pairs of eyes are too excited to watch as you sink down on Satoru’s cock, pussy lips bulging at the stretch of him. You suck in his dick inch by inch, time turned to slush, head thrown back and lips parting.

Suguru’s hands are eager, gripping your hips from behind so he can slam you down onto his best friend’s cock.

“Fuck that’s so good, fuck, Toru!”

Nanami’s hand is suffocating his cock, standing still, patient, watching you get used to the bounce of Satoru’s hips.

Suguru runs his nose up the back of your neck, groaning as he paws at your tits, tweaking both nipples until you hiss. He flicks a nipple quickly with his middle finger, smarting your skin. Then he licks a hot stripe up your throat, the length of his hair falling over your shoulder.

Your head lulls back against his chest, “I th-thought you’d be nice to me, Sugu.”

“I am the nice one, princess. Just wait.”

You look absolutely stuffed, belly nearly bulging from Satoru’s thick, intrusive cock making a home inside you.

Nanami brushes his fingers over your face, cupping your cheek to cull your attention away from Suguru.

“So pretty. You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?”

Grabbing his wrist, you move his strong hand on your face closer to your mouth, wet lips closing around his thumb. You suck hard, mischief gleaming in your eyes as you watch his normally stoic mouth open at the feeling. You repeat the action, licking at the digits and moving his fingers in and out of your mouth. You release his fingers when Satoru pushes his cockhead into a particularly soft spot of your walls, making you gasp.

“I’m a very good girl.”

“Oh yeah?” You hear Satoru’s unmistakable, demeaning laugh from below. “Put his cock in your mouth, suck him ‘til he cums.”

Suguru’s hand splays across your spine and pushes you down, smashing your body to Satoru’s and lining your face with Nanami’s cock. The new angle of Toru’s dick in your guts makes you mewl, hips rolling and begging.

You shift your weight, balancing one hand on the bed so the other can wrap around Nanami’s cock, silken and hot and pounding in your little palm. Satoru has the perfect view below as you spit onto the cock in your hand, tracing your tongue along the vein lines.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be messy, aren’t ya?” Icey eyes shine before winking up at you, one of Satoru’s hands wiping away a stray drop of spit on his forehead.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Nanami grunts and shoves his fingers into your hair, making you look up the muscular planes of his body to his face, “focus on me.”

You obey, lips sucking at his swollen head before taking the rest of him slowly. Nanami groans as he watches you, ass in the air, cock in your cunt, pretty eyes not leaving his as you slide him to the back of your throat and swallow.

Suguru smears lube onto your ass as you get to work, grinding down into Satoru and sucking Nanami. He thumbs your tight, puckered hole and you moan low and deep around the cock in your mouth. The vibrations tingle down Nanami’s spine and make him jerk your hair, shoving you into the blonde curls at the base of his cock until you gag around his length.

Satoru swirls his thumb against your clit to make your brain think about him again, about the way he’s thrumming into your hole, stretching you so wide you barely notice when Suguru’s thumb dips into your ass.

There’s nothing you can do but let them work your body, every part of you pulsing and throbbing with this hot, wormy need to be filled and fucked.

“Fuck her cunt’s so tight, gonna b-bust,” Satoru moves quicker, making you break the rhythm you’ve built sucking cock. You pull back to breathe, tongue flattening on the underside of Nanami’s dick.

“So early, Toru,” Suguru tuts, “I’m not even in her ass yet.” Two fingers now scissor into your tight hole as lube drips down to where Satoru’s balls are slapping into your ass cheeks.

Nanami keeps you distracted, roughly shoving his cock back between your lips once you have enough breath in your lungs. You bob your head, keeping him moist and slick between hollowing cheeks. His impressive thickness has saliva dripping down your cheeks and falling into Satoru’s hair.

Suddenly, your clit is pinched between Satoru’s cruel fingers, with no pleasurable intent beyond his own. You scream and the opening has Nanami pushing his cock halfway down your throat.

“Oh that’s it baby, get tight, milk me, fucking god.”

“Satoru,” Suguru bites in annoyance, “fucking hold it in until—”

“I can’t, been dreaming of fucking this little cunt. Can’t wait, fucking can’t, she’s too soft and wet and—”

You’re not sure who cums first, you from the blistering force of Toru’s thumb on your clit, or him from the way your pussy convulses and sucks around his shaft. Not that it matters, you’re both whining.

Your tongue goes slack against Nanami’s cock as you feel the thump thump of ropes of cum unloading into your hole. Bliss makes you numb, makes you dumb, easier for Nanami to control and for Suguru to play with.

“Don’t swallow.” Nanami’s groan is the only warning you get. His powerful hips go still, cock pumping, before a grunt precedes the salty burst of his release coating your tongue.

Of course you listen to him. There’s barely any will left you beyond to fuck and be fucked.

Only you’re not prepared for Nanami slipping his cock from your mouth and tilting your chin up, making you stare into the rapacity of hazel eyes.

“Now give it to Satoru.”

Your heart knocks in your chest, heat fissuring down your spine as if you’re worried about getting in trouble. You stare at Nanami with wide eyes, having to forcibly stop yourself from swallowing in shock.

Satoru gives you a lopsided, fucked out grin as you look down to face him, his hand reaching up to brush hair from your face. He kisses you before you overthink it, forcing his tongue into your mouth until spit and cum spill from the edges of your lips.

You’ve thought about kissing him before. Too many times, really, and never once did you picture it sloppy and tangy with Kento Nanami’s cum swishing from your mouth to Satoru’s. He groans at the taste and you moan as he shifts his hips below you, cock still hard and raging.

“Well isn’t this just disgusting.”

That voice is new. Taunting.

You look at the cracked door, your swollen, cum stain lips parting at who fills the gap.

“Fushiguro,” Suguru clicks his tongue against his teeth, “you’re late.”

“Surprised I’m still invited since I broke the last one.”

Toji Fushiguro is nearly a myth, a revenant that you’ve only seen shadows of in the dark corners of parties. Yet here he is, arms crossed across his shirtless chest, a dark gray spot already leaking through his sweats at the sight of you sandwiched between three sweaty men.

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare?” you ask, unsure where your audacity came from.

The smirk he gives you is sinister, the door slamming as he fists his cock through his pants, “Make room for me.”

Nanami pulls you up and off Satoru’s cock. He keeps your wobbly legs steady as bodies move around you, one of his big hands smoothing down your back as if to reassure you. Not that you need it, the headspace of sex is still engulfing you, like a haze all around the room.

“I want her ass.” Toji’s knees sink into the mattress.

“She’s prepped,” Nanami grins, hand reaching down, pawing at your ass, before he slides one of his big fingers into your asshole. You groan at the stretch, a filling pleasure shooting down to your toes.

Toji snatches you in his arms, his strength allowing him to tug you around like a little rag doll. His mouth seals over yours with a primal groan, settling you into his lap so his cock can twitch against the softness of your belly. You moan and let him have you, calloused hands groping your sore tits.

“Taste good,” he licks against your lips, “pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Toru outdid himself this time.”

He grabs your hand in his, forcing your fingers to wrap around the width of his cock. He helps you pump the shaft, thick neck tilting back when your thumb presses right under his mushroom head and you squeeze along his veins.

“Suppose you need another one of these in your pussy too, hm?”

The thought of being completely filled makes you leak, slick sticking to your thighs.

Your eyes flicker over your shoulder. Three men are waiting, naked, ready to fill whichever hole you want.

You reach first for Suguru.

“Oh, oh, don’t tell me he’s your favorite?” Toji’s laugh rumbles your whole body in his hold.

“No, I-I mean…” you flush hot.

“He’s just trying to rile you up, baby,” Satoru’s white lashes sweep to where his cum is starting to drip from your hole, “besides, I want your mouth next. I have…payback, in mind.” His gaze cuts to Nanami.

Five bodies tango around each other far too easily.

Suguru slips beneath you, Satoru stands before you, while Nanami and Toji make the bed groan and creak under the weight of their knees.

There’s no pause once Toji’s hands latch on to your hips, his fat fingers mean and greedy as he pops the head of his cock into your asshole. You hiss at the full feeling, only for the sound to bleed into a whine as Suguru nudges his cock into your puffy folds, pressing until he breaches the first ring of slicked muscle.

Your head falls to Suguru’s chest as they both begin to push.

The spread is delicious and excruciating all at once, so much pressure in your holes as Toji ruthlessly starts thrusting. He’s working his way in, grunting, worming his cock until you’re halfway down his thick shaft.

“Ahhh, oh, oh, ‘s so much!”

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay, pretty baby.” Satoru pets your head as your nails rake down Suguru’s arms.

“Toru—can’t fuck, too full, oh god, god, god, fuckkkk.”

Suguru notches his cock just a little deeper in your pussy, making you weep.

“Yeah you can, sweetheart,” Nanami’s talking to you but looking at where you’re being split apart, lip sucking between his teeth. “You can take more. Promise.”

Not that you have a choice. Toji grunts as he thrusts once, twice, finally forcing his way in deep and smacking his hips until he’s flush with the jiggle of your ass. You scream and you’re sure any music playing in the house can’t drown out the sound.

“Hurry up, Sugu. Or I’ll start fucking her without you.” Toji kneads his knuckles into the fat of your ass, tsking.

You do it for him. You press down, down, down until you’re sucking Suguru’s raw cock all the way in so you can feel full.

Your walls feel thin, like you can feel the outline of both dicks as they start to move together. Slow, at first, since you whine and coo and reach up and grab Satoru’s thighs like you’re afraid you’re going to topple over from their power. Then the pace really starts, a cacophony of skin on skin and grunts that have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your guts are a mess as you finally pick your head up and look at Satoru, tears and mascara streaming down your face as your silly brain tries to make sense of the all-encompassing ecstasy of being so full and used.

“God damn you’re perfect, aren’t ya?” Satoru weaves his fingers in your hair, soft and sweet, guiding your mouth to his cock. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, hiccuping every time the cocks inside you slam up and in sync.

Satoru smears his cock over your awaiting tongue, popping the head into the softness of your cheek before pulling out and rubbing the leaking slit over your tastebuds.

“Mhmmm gonna keep you as a little pet, okay? I’ll let you have any dick you want, whenever you want it. Sound good?”

You nod, finally feeling stable enough to reach back and wiggle your fingers for Nanami.

Nanami slots his cock into your palm, groaning as your fingers fasten around him and begin to pump along his length.

“Need some help with that?” Toji’s scarred lip pulls into a smirk before a suck, swish sounds in his mouth. He spits over Nanami’s cock, the wet glob sinking between your fingers as you tug and pull his heated shaft.

“Nasty fucker.” You hear Nanami mumble under his breath.

“Oh yeah?” Suguru snaps out his pussydrunk haze beneath you, one of his hands leaving your thigh so he can curl his fingers over yours on Nanami’s cock and help jerk him off. “Toru can still taste your cum in the back of his mouth.”

Satoru gives you a wink and one last chance to breathe before he pushes his cock between your lips. You moan around him, finally, completely, entirely fucking full.

Every hole is stretched, your body aches, pleasure bubbling under every inch of your overheated skin like you’ll erupt at any moment.

You barely know who you are, can barely think beyond the carnal craving of being full and filled and used. Your hips roll back to match the sinful pace set by Suguru and Toji, your head and hand move in rhythm together as you work for Satoru and Nanami.

Toji fists one hand in your hair, pulling you back and bouncing you against their cocks. Your eyes snap up as Satoru follows the shift of your body, settling his knees over Suguru’s face so he can keep fucking into your hot mouth. You hear Suguru groan as the thick threads of his hair get tangled beneath Satoru’s weight—though it doesn’t sound like he minds it.

“What a fuckin’ slut,” Toji sneers and latches his other hand around your neck from behind. “Push deeper, Toru, wanna feel your cock in her throat.”

Satoru cants his hips forward and you open your mouth the best you can, still gagging as the length of him pounds into the back of your throat. Squeezing his thick fingers around the sides of your neck, Toji pets his thumb down the center column of your throat. He can see and feel the dick inside your neck.

Drool soaks your cheeks, bubbling around the tight suck of your lips. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue to the veiny underside of Toru’s cock and let him use you.

Suguru’s cursing, cock plunging into the wet squish of your pussy with every groan. He squeezes his fingers over yours around Nanami’s cock, both of you moaning at the increase of pressure. Then he dips his hand lower, fingers sinking around heavy balls as you twist your wrist and tug, thumbing the Nanami’s sensitive ridge.

“Shit fuck, fuck you both.” Nanami grumbles, knees faltering until he has to brace himself on one arm on the mattress.

“Kento,” Toji grits his teeth, panting now from how hard he’s thrusting into your abused, tight hole, “cum on her ass. Gonna, ah, need more lube.”

Nanami swats your hand away, moving out of your eyesight to kneel behind you. You hear the deep baritone of his groan before you feel his hot cum pool and drip down your ass.

“That’s it, yeah.” Toji’s fingers smear in the mess Nanami made, coating the base and middle length of his cock with cum as he pulls out, only to push the gooey mess back into your hole.

Nanami collapses on his back, lungs expanding as he watches your breasts bounce from below.

“Ah, ah, god, ah,” you don’t know how long you’ve been babbling around Toru’s cock for—probably this whole time, a garbled, drooling mess of lewd sounds.

“Fuck, keep, ah, shit, keep fucking her just like that, her throat’s gettin’ tight.”

Suguru takes the initiative to swipe his thumb over your sensitive clit. Your nerves buzz instantly, making your cunt convulse and suck. You’re close, so overstimulated you’re not sure if any of your senses actually work anymore. Your vision is blurred, your hearing just a thump of music and skin and groans, your fingers numb as you grip both hands into Satoru’s thighs, and all you can taste and smell is his salty cock twitching on your tongue and thumping into your hot mouth.

Your sanity is only held together by the push and pull of the cocks inside you. You can feel how both Suguru and Toji’s cockheads bully past one another, curving and dipping just perfectly into spongey, soft spots you didn’t know existed in your body. Your gummy walls are swelling, straining around the double penetration.

“Fuuckkk, make her cum, Sugu. I bet this little ass will get so god damn tight and strangle my fucking cock. Fuckin’ do it.”

The way you try to say please around Satoru’s dick in your mouth makes him laugh, a little maniacal sound that makes you burn with need. You jolt your hips forward as much as you can, pressing into the thumb that starts flicking like lightning across your clit.

“Shit, she’s already m-making a mess,” Suguru lets out a groan that rumbles your body, sinks into your bones and makes you tremble. Slick is so wet and hot between your legs, making both your holes sloppy as cocks search for bliss inside your tight suction.

Satoru suddenly cums down your throat and you’re suffocating, spurting and gagging as he forces you to swallow a few spurts before he jerks his cock from your lips. He fists himself until pearly strings shoot across Nanami’s chest.

“Filthy,” Nanami drags his finger through the cum on his skin, gathering enough to flick toward your tits, “all of you.”

You’re gasping like you’ve been beached, falling down onto Suguru and burying your face in his shoulder.

Finally you reach the peak, the point of no return, your whole body spasming as you cum.

You scream and bite into skin, every single nerve ending in your body exploding and firing with ecstasy and intensity. It hurts, your cunt clenching and pulling and sucking around two throbbing cocks. Your body squeezes them together, walls stretched so thin that you can feel their veins pumping like heartbeats searing your insides. You’re so stuffed, plugged, fuller than you fear you ever will be again.

The choked sounds from Suguru and Toji are divine, four hands gripping and bruising your body to keep you still so they can fill your holes until cum bursts from your seams.

Suguru’s hand cups the back of your head, both to soothe and pry your canines from his flesh.

“Atta girl, atta girl, so good, you’re okay.”

“More than okay,” Toji wolf-whistles, smacking his hand across your ass to hear you yelp, “your little body is fuckin’ spectacular.”

He takes his time sliding out of your ass, more for him than you, you’re sure, so he can savor the last drags of your swollen walls around his shaft.

The empty feeling of your open ass makes you whine, but still you lift your head, sitting back on your heels, moaning as you shift on Sugu’s cock. You watch Toji step back into his gray sweats, grinning as he snaps the elastic band low on his toned stomach.

“Well, well, guess this one didn’t get broken.” He slaps Satoru’s shoulder as he throws open the bedroom door and leaves with, “She might even be up for round two.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, slinking deeper into the desk chair he’s occupying, spent cock resting between his thighs.

“You okay?” Two voices say in unison, Nanami and Satoru. Suguru has his arm across his eyes, dark hair like ink spilling over the sheets.

“Mhhhmm,” you nod, the afterglow rolling over your skin as you manage to pull yourself off the last remaining cock plugging your body. You collapse next to Nanami, face down in pillows that have been shoved to the back of the bed.

The group of them start talking, but your ears are ringing, thumping with your blood and the still raging music below the floorboards.

“Baby.” Satoru runs his fingers down your back, shaking your ass to get your attention. You groan as you feel cum spill from both holes from the movement.

“You should treat your playthings better, Gojo.” Nanami pats your head and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost smile.

“Oh yeah? You think you can do a better job? She loves me, don’t you baby?”

You nod your heavy head, one of your feet kicking up playfully.

“Give her to me for a week and we’ll see if she comes crawling back to you.”

“You can have her anytime she wants,” you hear Suguru grunt from what sounds like a hefty pat on his chest from Satoru, “any of you. She’ll be our pet.”

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seumyo · 26 days ago

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pregnancy cravings with miya atsumu.

Pregnancy cravings never really made sense to Atsumu. Then again, he never got to the part of anatomy and physiology when he was studying physical therapy before he decided to go pro as a volleyball player.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t supportive; no, he prided himself on being a great husband. And now, with you, his wife, pregnant with your first child, he was determined to be the most supportive, loving, and accommodating partner ever.

Nothing was going to stand in his way—not distance, not logic, and certainly not impossible cravings.

It started simple. Like it always did.

You wanted a specific pastry from a bakery on the other side of Japan? Done. He booked the fastest delivery service he could find, and when that wasn’t an option, he flew there himself, picked it up, and brought it back.

Talk about rich.

Homemade food? Good thing Osamu had drilled the basics of cooking into him, though he still got yelled at by his twin when he accidentally burned rice. But hey, effort counted, right?

Then, the cravings started getting weird.

You’re sitting on the couch with a blanket over your lap when you look up at him with serious eyes. “I want Osamu’s cooking.”

Atsumu blinked. “Alright, I can ask him—”

“But I don’t want to eat it. You eat it.”

He frowned, confused.

“Huh? Ya want me to eat ‘Samu’s cookin’?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Atsumu scratched his head, wondering if this was some kind of test. “And that’s gonna make ya feel better?”

“Yes.”

“… Even if ya don’ eat it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Atsumu blinked. “That doesn’t make no sense.”

“Atsumu, please don’t question me.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Osamu. “Oi, ‘Samu, I need ya to cook somethin’—no, not for [Name]—for me.” There was silence on the other end before Osamu sighed heavily and reluctantly agreed.

That night, Atsumu sat at the dining table, stuffing his face with his brother’s food while you sat across from him, smiling in satisfaction as you watched. Osamu just did his part as a supportive brother for his twin.

The next day was even worse.

“A seedless mango,” you murmured, rubbing your belly.

...

“A what?”

“A seedless mango. I want it.”

“… [Name], sweetheart, baby, I love ya, but that don’t exist.”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I want it.”

Atsumu groaned. “Where am I gonna get a seedless mango?”

“Figure it out, please?”

He spent hours searching online, calling fruit vendors, and even asking Osamu if his suppliers had some secret black market seedless mango (Osamu asked him if a volleyball that was going 120 km/h hit his head).

No luck.

In the end, Atsumu cut up a normal mango, carefully removed every trace of the seed, and handed it to you with a hopeful grin.

You took one look at it and frowned.

“It’s not the same.”

Atsumu wanted to cry.

“I need you to wear a face mask.”

Atsumu blinked at you from your bed. “Huh? Why?”

You huffed quietly, fidgeting with the sheets. “Because your face is annoying.”

Atsumu gasped, hand clutching his chest. “My face?! The one ya love so much?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya vowed to look at forever in sickness and in health?!”

“Yes.”

“The one ya called ‘beautiful’ when I asked ya if I was hotter than ‘Samu?!”

“I love you, but right now, your face is irritating me.”

Atsumu stared, utterly betrayed, before sighing in defeat. He got up, went to the closet, grabbed one of the disposable masks he’d bought during flu season, and put it on.

“There. Happy now?”

You smiled sweetly. “Very.”

Atsumu flopped onto the bed with a groan, pulling the blanket over himself. As he lay there, sulking, you scooted closer and rested your head on his chest.

“I love you, you know that?” you murmured.

He grumbled. “Ya sure? Feels like ya hate me sometimes.”

You chuckled. “No, I love you. My hormones just don’t.”

He sighed. “Yer so lucky I love ya more than life.”

“I know. Pregnancy is so weird.”

And the worst has yet to come.

Atsumu should be asleep by now, but no, he had to be individually popping popcorn. One kernel at a time, as per your request.

He initially told you, “Yer kiddin’.”

You were not.

And that was how Atsumu found himself in the kitchen at three in the morning, painstakingly popping one kernel at a time in a tiny pan. Every time he accidentally popped more than one, you, who were sitting on a stool with your hands on your belly, would click your tongue disapprovingly.

“You put in two, Atsumu.”

“This is torture,” he grumbled, but he kept going.

“I want ice cream,” you said.

Atsumu perked up. “Oh, easy. What flavor?”

“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Uh… okay. I can get a few different kinds?”

“I need to taste them all.”

Atsumu frowned. “Like… all the flavors?”

“Yes.”

“… Babe, there are like fifty flavors at the ice cream shop.”

You nodded. “And I need to taste all of them before I decide which one I want.”

Atsumu let out a long, suffering sigh, but being the devoted husband he was, he marched straight to the ice cream parlor and ordered a ridiculous amount of sample cups. The poor employee stared at him in disbelief.

“You… want every flavor?”

“Yeah.”

“Every single one?”

“Yeah.”

“Sir, that’s—”

“My wife is pregnant, and if I don’t do this, I might not make it to the end of the week.”

The employee, upon hearing this, immediately started getting to work.

When Atsumu got home, you took one spoonful of each, nodded, and, after going through every single cup, announced:

“I don’t want ice cream anymore.”

Atsumu fell to his knees. Defeated.

“I need you to stand in the corner for a while.”

Atsumu looked up from his phone, confused. “Huh?”

“The corner. Stand there.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like you should.”

Atsumu squinted. “Babe, are ya makin’ me into a damn decoration?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Atsumu sighed but did it anyway. He stood in the corner of your living room for a full ten minutes while you sat on the couch, happily watching TV. At some point, Osamu FaceTimed him, took one look at the scene, and hung up.

The next day, you called him while he was at practice, which was rare in itself because you did just leave messages whenever you knew he was practicing.

“Babe,” you said in a tone that made his stomach drop.

“… Yeah?”

“I need you to bring me a cheeseburger.”

He let out a relieved laugh, wiping the sweat off his brow. “That’s easy! I’ll grab ya one on my way ho—“

“But replace the buns with pancakes.”

Atsumu froze. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“I dunno if I did, sweetheart.”

“Pancakes. Instead of buns. Oh, and I want honey to go with it.”

Atsumu nearly dropped his phone.

“Yer messin’ with me.”

“I’m really not.”

And you weren’t. That evening, he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the precision of a professional chef before assembling the most unholy creation he’d ever laid eyes on—a cheeseburger with pancake buns, honey drizzled over the meat.

You took a bite and hummed softly. “Oh my god, this is better than sex.”

Atsumu, who had spent hours perfecting his technique in the bedroom, felt personally offended by that.

“Atsumu,” you murmur. “I need you to switch sides of the bed with me.”

He sighed. “No.”

“Atsumu.”

“[Name], baby, darlin’—I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because my side is closer to the door in case of an intruder.”

You chuckled quietly. “Tsumu, please. I need to sleep on that side.”

Atsumu stared at you, conflicted. He had never—not once—slept on the other side. It was unnatural. Wrong. It went against the very foundations of your marriage.

But you were looking at him with those tired, hormonal, pleading eyes. And he was sure you’d tell him you could barely see your feet now and often experience heartburn, all because of his unborn baby.

With a heavy sigh, Atsumu switched sides with you.

“You’re a good husband,” you whispered, patting his cheek.

Atsumu, lying in the unfamiliar position, staring at the wrong wall, whispered, “I’m a broken man.”

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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 3)

I deadass wrote part one as a one shot. Is this what peer pressure is? I love it.

It would have been easy to forget you, your soul was his anyways so the real fun had already finished. But that pesky video hit most streamed in 24 hours, he couldn’t even walk to the butcher without hearing you scream his name from errant phones. Surely there was a way, even from hell, to finish what he started and get you out of his system.

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, soft Alastor, unprotected sex (duh?), creampie, edging a little, feelings, Valentino exists, Vox also exists, literally wrote this split screen with part 2 on the right side so I could line it up right like he does hehe, Alastor has a bad time

tag requested: @astraechos , @thekanrojimitsuri2 , @hoeforalbedo , @crazylazybabyk , @oddball08 , @lovingyeet , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @random-3455 , @alicehasdrowned , @des-deswain5621 , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @doctorswife221b

When Val released, ‘The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice’, it immediately went viral. The website crashed, downloads surpassed his wildest, horniest dreams.

It’s scary but also hot? ☆☆☆☆☆

Eat me Mr. Radio Demon!

I’ve never wanted to be a pussy so much in my life.

The reviews were all favorable, the comments rolling in, it was perfect.

Until Vox said it wasn’t. He had seen the video, but figured no one would care about seeing Alastor fuck anything. It wasn’t the success that got under his skin, it was the wave of positive attention it brought Alastor. Suddenly everyone was tuning in to his broadcasts, little miss princess’s hotel was busier than ever.

And it was ubiquitous. Every screen seemed to feature Alastor’s breakout role.

“I said pull it, Val!” Vox slammed his hands on Valentino’s coffee table.

“Vox, baby, you’re being really sensitive about this. I’m literally fucking piles of money right now. Actual piles of money, like, person sized piles.” Val took a drag of his cigarette, “Its good for business.”

“Would you rather fuck money, or me?” Vox’s screen glitched.

Val leaned his elbows on his knees, “That’s a really difficult question for me and I think you know that.”

“Augh! Val! Think of the big picture! That obsolete dickhead gaining attention means gaining power. And that’s bad for business.”

Val’s eyes fluttered, “What if we like, say it wasn’t him?”

Flashes of Alastor’s face fazed in and out of focus across Vox’s screen, your body flipping over, a mess of tentacles writhing.

Val took off his glasses, “Oh yeah, that’s pretty obviously him.”

“What is?” Vox’s face splintered back to the screen.

“Do you—- do you not know you’ve been like,” Val used his cigarette to gesture at Vox’s face, “just straight up playing his porno?”

Vox’s hands flew to his screen, “No! Fucking shit! What the fuck!!” He picked up a vase and threw it across the room, “Wipe it clean off the server! Delete it! Ban it’s fucking streaming! End of discussion!”

Val shrugged, he owned every bootleg distributor in the pride ring. He’d pull it and up the price threefold for illegal downloads. “Whatever you want, amorcito.”

Alastor was quite happy the video went ‘underground’ of sorts. The first month after you left, he was plagued by the sound of your voice. Everywhere he went it seemed you were screaming his name, every phone and television a conduit for you.

What really bothered him though, was the reaction others had to him. Where once sinners leapt from his path and set theirselves on fire to avoid him, now people winked and waved. It made his skin crawl. When alive, at the peak of his radio show fame, it wasn’t uncommon to have fans approach him in jazz clubs. But the decorum of 1930's jazz fans was a far cry from the brazen displays of desire from the citizens of hell.

“Perhaps I should have thought it through?” He mused.

“Ya think?” Rosie put her tea down, “Was it worth it, at least?”

He mulled the question over. Worth it? Well, he had your soul. Which is grand. But you weren’t even in hell to be called upon. What did he really get from the deal? Alastor brought his palm to his face, already feeling the blush spreading. Rosie's chuckle didn't help. He did get something. You'd been gone a month, and each day he woke up having forgot you existed. And every night he lied down to rest and imagined your eyes staring back at him. Did he want to fight you, or surrender, when he saw that look? When the silk tie had fallen from your face, slipping down your nose to reveal your intense stare...He thought his heart had stopped. For every ounce of resilience in your voice he found a pound of fury in your gaze. What poor luck Valentino had been given to receive you as an offering.

"Too soon to tell." He leaned back, finally dropping his hand.

“Well it seemed you had a good time… not that I could see much through the green glow and all that static noise. Really spoiled the climax with that move, Alastor dear."

Alastor’s eyes were saucers, “Rosie. Are you implying-,”

“What?” She drew out the word, “I thought you weren’t into those things so of course I was curious!”

He sighed, “I’m not.”

Rosie pushed the teaspoon around her cup with one finger, “Sure looked like you were.”

He crossed his arms, indignant, “You don’t have to have an appetite to enjoy a meal.”

“Message received loud and clear dear! I won’t bring up the subject again.” She cackled and changed the topic to the latest gossip around the colony.

Another night staring at the ceiling, mind ghosting over the idea of you. He felt like he his sanity was unraveling Leaving his bed, he stepped barefoot onto the grass of the swampy forest he materialized into his room when he moved in to the hotel.

With an outstretched hand, Alastor felt for your connection. He couldn’t see it, but the weight of the chain connecting your soul to him sunk into his palm. Curious, he wrapped his fingers around the invisible links and pulled.

With a soft green glow, you rose from the grass.

His breath hitched, he hadn’t expected that. “It seems our deal really did stick, didn't it?" walking towards you, Alastor dropped to his knees at your feet. You were on your side, unmoving.

His head cocked to the left, ears turned in. Alastor crawled toward you, rolling you onto your back and opening your legs. He slotted himself there, “Hellooo,” He took your face in his both of his hands, elbows resting beside your ears, “Are you… sleeping, dear?”

This is ridiculous.

Alastor inspected your face; peaceful. It was a new sight for him, he'd really only ever seen you in some kind of rage or lost in pleasure. His hand slid down your body, realizing you were in the robe still. He laughed, but realized it was for no one. "Are you really going to sleep, hmm?" He hooked his hands under your knee and brought it up around his hip.

Nothing.

"I'm starting to get offended, dear." He leaned down and whispered into the crook of your neck. "If you don't wake up-" He slid down, the robe open enough to let his breathe ghost over your stomach. He stopped. He couldn't do anything to you while you slept. It was void of any enjoyment for him. Without your reactions, it was just....pointless. While he did enjoy your performance in the studio, he was taught to show respect for those of fairer means. A sleeping partner fell into that category.

He reached beneath you and straightened your robe that had bunched there under your body. Placing your leg back down by your ankle, he began pulling the collar up and closed it snuggly.

He stood there for a second, looking over you. It worked. You're here again. His mother had taught him that the human soul was most vulnerable at night. When asleep, the soul could wander from the body and travel earth and beyond. She even said people could train themselves, and with practice, remember their journeys even after waking.

Kneeling down, Alastor pushed your hair from your face, "Don't forget. What fun is there in that?" The shadow beneath your body shimmered neon green before you were swallowed by inky darkness and Alastor was once again, alone.

After his mother died, Alastor was often alone. Most of his time, really. Well, there were people always around. But they were staff, or hangers-on, or women looking for a comfortable life. They were dancers and bootleggers and musicians. Which was fine and grand. But, they never saw him. He never let them, they never tried. He was the radio host. The great dancer. The southern gentleman. The killer. The cannibal. The deer in the woods. Not a single person ever looked at him on earth and saw him. Which was precisely what he wanted, and manufactured with his wide smile and good manners.

So when your eyes bore into him from that tacky studio set, and he felt suddenly naked in front of you, he knew you were looking at the him. You saw him.

It was worth it. Alastor was willing to admit that to himself.

Over the next couple days, he would randomly try to pull you to him. Through out the day, in different places, he would summon your soul and wait. Nothing. It confirmed his theory, your soul was only able to leave your living body while you were asleep.

In the privacy of his room, Alastor paced the space between grass and carpet. What was this feeling? Nerves? He hadn't felt nervous since he was a child.

But, what was causing him a pause, was if he summoned you and you didn't appear. Maybe it had been a fluke? Maybe for the 7th time in 3 days he would pull on that connection and be left standing there, alone.

Still.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain composure. Finally, he reached out for your ties to him, and pulled you into hell.

He held his breath, unconsciously.

With a glow, you appeared again before him. He was quick this time to approach you, setting beside you and leaning close to your face. Asleep.

"Is this my foreseeable future?" He asked, "Staring at you while you sleep, my doe."

Suddenly, you opened your eyes and met his. Reaching up, you grabbed him with both hands and pulled his face into yours. Your hands ran through his hair as you took him in a frenzied kiss. Alastor froze for a beat, but when your tongue licked at his bottom lip, he was brought back to the moment. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, rolling over yours and reaching as deep as he could. He felt like he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole. He really could, if he wanted to.

Alastor swung his leg over your body and straddled your hips. "Mon cher, you've finally joined me." His chest was rising and falling with excited breath.

"Alastor?" You tried to feel your body, but it was nowhere near you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. You're still alive and well. I've merely borrowed your soul for the evening." He looked down at you, and finally, for the first time in what felt like months, your eyes fell to his face.

But today, they were soft and out of focus.

"Can you see me, my dear?" He leaned down slightly, trying to read the look on your face.

"Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled, "Perhaps we both are." With an exhale he wondered if he had been holding his breath this entire time. "No, this isn't a dream."

"I don't understand...but--," You lifted your arms towards him, "Should I say thank you? It was fucked, what happened." Your voice was slow, words a little slurred, "But, I'm home safe and sound now. You did what you promised me. I don't know if I'll ever see you again so...should I thank you now?"

Your tongue felt fat in your mouth, heavy and delayed.

Alastor leaned down over you, "You don't have to say anything." He used his knees to open your legs, and settled there. "Unfortunately, you've become a little worm in my mind." His hands slid under the silk robe you hadn't stopped wearing yet, "I'm hoping if I finally have you, I can...whet my appetite, and return to my normal self." He felt along your hips, hands stopping when he realized you were naked under the thin piece of fabric.

"I keep remembering," you covered your eyes with your hands, "that big hand of yours. And I realize, you never touched me past that."

He smiled, genuinely, truly, "Exactly! You understand the problem precisely. Shall we both have our fill and be done with it?"

You moved your hands to touch his ears, waiting for him to disappear at any moment, "Please. I'm so tired of missing someone I don't even know." He removed your hands, and you held them to your chest.

"My thoughts exactly, mon cher." He adjusted his hips, letting his crotch rub against your core. This was the closest he had been to you since you'd met. It was dizzying, and it felt like his skin was vibrating everywhere it met yours.

A soft moan left your throat, causing his cock to twitch in his pants. Yes, it was you. This wasn’t his standard response to such sounds. Alastor sat up, his legs bent and knees at either side of your hips. Taking one of your hands from your chest, he placed a kiss on a digit. Then another. He kissed his way down your arm.

“So gentle. Weird.” You tried to focus on him, but your mind was still cloudy. The sensations were here but also so far away, too far away, in another lifetime all together.

“Was I not gentle before, all things considered?,” he continued his way down your arm.

You let your eyes drift to the sky, stars watching you from above, “More than him.”

His mouth went dry at the mention of Val, "I am many things more than him, darling." As his lips found your neck, he took a deep breath. "I can actually take my time now. No audience." He sucked a bruise, and released you with a pop. He presented two fingers to your lips, and without thinking about it you began to suck them. While you were slipping your tongue over and between his fingers, he moved to continue a trail of kisses and nips down your right arm.

"Get them nice and wet." He watched through half lidded eyes as you licked his long fingers. He knew he needed to remove his hips from yours, but the idea pained him. Finally, he took his fingers from you and swiped them over your entrance. Your chest jumped, so he did it again. He tried to push the fingers into you, but the resistance was more than he expected. You were wet, but tight. He let his middle finger slip inside you. So soft. So warm. His shadow tendrils allowed him some feeling but not this, this was something they kept to themselves.

"When was your last time, mon cher?"

Your mind searched for memories still left behind in your body somewhere, "In hell."

"You're in hell now."

"This doesn't feel like hell." You ground your hips onto his palm, trying to get that single digit slowly moving in you to come deeper, to become more. He replied by pushing in his pointer finger, erection becoming painful already as you let out a little moan. Bending them up, he began to make long thrusts past your g-spot. His mouth long stilled on your arm, staring at your face as you whimpered into the sky.

"Look at me."

Your eyes darted to him, half open and wet. Alastor felt his patience snap. Undoing his belt and zipper, he finally freed his cock. He ran his head between your entrance to your clit , gathering your fluids on him to ease his entry. Taking both of your legs, he held them at the ankles and set them on his left shoulder. With your hips slightly raised, he pressed into you.

With a hiss you dug your fingers into the dirt, body tensing instinctively. One of his arms hugged your legs to his chest, the other was now bruising your hips as he continued to push into you. With just his head in, he began fast and shallow thrusts. Every time making more progress into your warmth. The stretch burned, but the feeling of him forcing space into you for himself just made you wetter.

Finally, he bottomed out. He had no sense to still himself, shallow thrusts gave way to long, deep plunges. Alastor's breathing was filling the space around you, mixing with your own. Leaning back, he looked down at where you two were connected.

He withdrew slowly, nearly entirely, and pushed back in. Again. And again. It was intoxicating, how he felt himself melt into you. He'd had lovers in life, but never had he been with someone without a barrier of some sorts. Be that his well placed smile or latex. He'd never fucked anyone raw before. He almost regretted not trying earlier, as the sensation of your walls and arousal sticking to his cock and thighs was breaking him. Watching himself entirely disappear inside you, he closed his eyes. Everything was so hot, so tight, would he disappear entirely? Would he lost in the pleasure your body was so effortlessly giving? Was he the unlucky one?

Alastor pushed your knees up to your chest, using his body weight to hold them down as his paced picked up. You brought your dirtied nails to your own legs, holding on tightly. Desperately you needed something to tether you to the ground, keep you still against the twitches shaking your stomach and chest. You felt with any jolt to your nerves you'd fall off the world and drift into the night.

He felt the build up, his balls tightening and drawing in, he wanted to slow down-- he wanted to bring you there first but he couldn't stop the rutting of his hips. With a whine, Alastor's forehead came to rest on yours, hips smacking into you with a wet slap. "Look at me," He commanded again, and you obeyed. One of his hands came to your chin to hold your head still, "Don't you dare look away."

Struggling to keep your eyes open, he pushed into you with one final, deep thrust. His hands came down now to the ground around you as he pushed you into the grass. Hips stuttering, cock twitching in you. You'd never let anyone cum inside you before, the sensation of heat quickly filling your cunt made you tighten around him. "Good girl", He purred, jaw tight.

He pulled back slowly before bringing his hips down, sweat sticking to his forehead where it met yours. His pace was quickly becoming brutal, a hand finding its way to that little bud of nerves of yours. With rough pressure and hurried speed his thumb drew out your orgasm. When you came, you gasped out his name, craning your neck up to ghost your lips over his open mouth. As the pleasure surged from your center, you could feel your body again. He tried to keep his eyes on your eyes, but the overstimulation of your cunt trying to wring him dry forced him to shut them.

A light shone through his eyelids, startling them open again.

"Wait-!" He watched you get pulled away from beneath him. Before he could react, Alastor was on all fours in the forest, alone. Eyes wide, he pounded his fist against the grass. He tried to summon you back to him, to drag you to him but nothing happened.

He thought he'd gone crazy. Hands came to his head, smile pained as he tried to process what he was feeling.

No.

Not enough.

Too soon.

A growl ripped through his chest. This hadn't satiated him at all. No, he was worse off now. He was starved, he had nourishment ripped from his mouth and he as angry for it. Angry to hell, to Valentino, to the conditions of owning a living soul.

He did not even attempt to rest that night. Taking his time, he had to find composure again. Alastor managed to pull himself together after several hours of self isolation. After his heart stopped racing, after his hands stopped feeling phantom skin beneath them, he calmed his smile and went about his day.

When night returned, he couldn't help but stare into the forest domain. He wanted so badly to bring you to himself, but that want was terrifying. It was overpowering him, and he couldn't accept that.

Another night left, another day passed. Husk found Alastor's cruelty to be growing, his patience giving out at the smallest perceived slight. Angel stopped engaging entirely. Charlie found herself wanting to approach him, find out why it seemed his hair was always standing on end, his eyes sharp. But, she didn't. She couldn't. Alastor would pass through the halls like a raging specter. He wouldn't slow or acknowledge anyone.

He managed a week. Satisfied with his resolve, he waited for when night fell and he was sure you'd be deep asleep, yanked your soul from your body and into him. He felt rabid, like he his brain was catching fire. Finally when you materialized before him, he grabbed your face with his hand.

"My doe?"

Just like before, you stirred, and your hands immediately went for his hair. He pulled back, "Are you awake?"

"Am I dreaming? Alastor?" You looked drunk, mind struggling to process the change in scenery. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he hovered above you, and you pulled him into a kiss. He happily returned it, hands quick to untie the robe you had taken as your own. He wasted now time in getting himself unsheathed and lined up with you, before he could enter you reached out to him, "I wanted to say--- thank you. I don't know if I'll ever really see you again."

The realization made his blood run cold. His mother's stories flooded back to him. It takes training, and time, to remember the travels of the wandering soul.

"You don't have to say anything." Alastor thrust into you, your body tense but not as resistant as before. When he was finally enveloped in you, he could feel himself calm. He didn't feel any need to be gentle this time around. He immediately set a bruising pace, digging his nails into the soft flesh of your ass as he forced your hips to meet his with every thrust. You gasped beneath him, eyes wandering up to the sky just past his head. He'd bring you to climax, wanting to drink in your expression, and to his horror as you choked out his name you were spirited away from him again.

Everyone on the floor heard Alastor's rampage. When Angel ran to get Charlie and Vaggie, they were scared to knock. With a steadying breath Charlie rapped the door, "Al? You okay in there?"

Suddenly, silence.

The door whipped open, Alastor smiling with half lidded eyes, "Why of course. What ever made you think otherwise?"

"The fuckin' sounds of carnage, maybe?" Angel looked past Alastor. The sofa shredded, coffee table in pieces. The wallpaper had been ripped down and torn to shreds. Charlie noticed the dirt under his nails, but Alastor coolly pulled his hands behind his back.

"Can I do something for you?" His tone was cold.

"I guess not, Al...," Charlie took in the damage, "Did something happen?"

Alastor smiled wider, "No," and closed the door. No one saw him the following day, which wasn't entirely unusual but it was weighing on Charlie. When Alastor finally appeared and announced he was going to Cannibal Town, she was elated. A chat with Rosie would surely bring him back to himself.

"I don't see the problem. You've got her soul, you can summon her to you, and you get a little," She searched for the word, "relief. Why do you look so pained, old friend?"

"You know better than most I have no interest in chasing women, Rosie."

"Yet..." She cocked her brow.

"It isn't about the release. I don't particularly need that. I never have." He huffed, the conversation already exhausting him, "When I would kill someone, I was God. Their life was in my hands. I took that power from them."

Rosie clicked her tongue, "And when she's in your hands?" Alastor hunched over his black coffee before remembering himself and straightening his back. "I've never seen you like this before, hun. You've got it bad, huh?"

"Personal connections like this, Rosie, are dangerous. I lost my self restraint entirely. It's a weakness." He fought to regain his smile, never knowing who could be passing by.

She tutted him, "Oh no, that's where you're wrong. The difference between a strong man and an unstoppable man is having something to care about." Rosie leaned over and set her hand on top of his, "Imagine you walked into Val's studio right now and found her like you did a couple months ago. How would you react?"

His stomach wretched forward, if he saw you today, hanging from the ceiling? The stench of Valentino's cigarette smoke clinging to your hair, the marks where his hands had made contact with you? His hand under her's tightened, claws leaving marks into the wooden tabletop. "Do you feel weak right now, Alastor?" The hair on his ears was standing straight up, his now black eyes met hers, "You sure don't look it."

He’d remembered hearing something similar before from Vaggie. Could it be true? It was a precarious ladder. If he let himself be close to someone, then the person is in turn close to him, then that person knows him intimately, and then— they are a walking soft spot. Someone could take them and torture them for information. Or, hurt them to hurt him.

But, who would dare? A fire rose in chest at the thought. What was the point of power if he couldn’t have what he wanted? If he had to answer to others about his desires? To pursue strength and status was what he wanted but if that strength didn’t afford him freedom than what good was it, really?

"I say, not that you asked," Rosie smiled and withdrew her hand, "Could be nice to have a little company now and then. Plus, better than waiting 60 years or something for her to just die." She shrugged, "Now, eat. You look like a shit."

Rosie had a point, while your existence was fragile, it was still available to him.

For awhile, he would call you nightly. Alastor would fuck you into the grass, beneath the trees, under the stars. He learned your orgasm would wake you, and he would draw it out as long as he could. He'd edge you for hours, watching you sob for your release. Slowly, your consciousness became more and more solid during your meetings.

To his relief, his hunger for your presence calmed over time. He could handle a week or even two without sharing your company, and he noticed each time you seemed to recognize him more. You'd participate more, moan louder, scream his name and squirm from the pleasure. He relished trapping you underneath his wide shoulders, pulling you onto his lap as he fucked up into you.

He wasn't fond of the few times he summoned you and you were already wet, or smelling of cologne. He'd tease, "Lonely?" and when he'd fuck his back cum into you before helping you chase your own orgasm, he'd remind you, "You're mine, little doe. No one can replace me." And he'd feel his chest swell. Others had your body for the night, but your soul was his forever. With every meeting, he felt more like himself. And the nights you were screaming his name in the forest, and his horns were looming over you as he marked you over and over as his, he felt powerful.

Some nights, he'd call you to him to just let you rest. He'd enjoy a book, or some jazz over a meal, while you lied quietly in his bed.

The days he pulled you into hell and your hair smelled of the trees, of sweat and dirt, he would be gentler. He could feel the ache in your muscles, the tan on your cheeks, and sent you back.

One such night came, where he of course took your chains in his hand and tugged. But this time, when you arrived, your face was painted with anger. You were asleep still, and even when he whispered to you, you didn't wake. You were having a nightmare, from what he could tell. He took you to his bed, and let you settle.

You stayed there until waking up again in your bed.

And every night that week, he'd bring you to his bed and go about his tasks while you fought some demons in your head. He'd never seen you have a nightmare, and began to wonder if something was happening in the overworld.

Alastor was enjoying a deer carcass in his room, humming softly to himself, when a green light erupted on the floor.

He was well aware it wasn't night anymore, and that he hadn't brought you here. With a soft smile, he left his meal and approached the light. Slowly, your body rose from the darkness there. Not just your soul.

When you looked up at him, a smile on your lips and two small doe ears on your head, he grinned, "Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?" He offered you a hand up, "Welcome home.”

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defmaybe · 6 days ago

Text

Talk Too Much

TWICE’s Myoi Mina x Male Reader

5.4k words

Part One of Untitled Mina Series

Title inspired by COIN’s Talk Too Much

Sometimes, you just have to say the thought that lingers in your mind out loud. Maybe it’s a form of resistance, standing up for yourself. Maybe it’s a proclamation of love. In your case, it’s something that’s going to lighten someone’s day up.

A tongue click. “Looking spicy today, boss. I’m burning because of ya.”

She glances back, not wavered by your words. Her strides remain calm, walking towards her office with a lethal poise. A smirk appears on her face. A scoff is heard from her lips. And she just looks away.

Maybe you can ramp it up next time.

—

The work day plays out as usual—emails, messing around with Figma, interviewing users. You put in your best like you’ve always been doing. It’s exhausting, surely, but you take some pride in giving your all like this. You’re proud of yourself.

In a heartbeat, the short clock hand teases the number five. The sun casts orange hue all over the office, gleaming it with the tranquil of the evening, ready to collapse under the weight of workers heading home. You sit in your seat, analyzing your customer’s answers from the morning. Your questions are clever, you’ve been told. Extracting users’ needs is your expertise, and you couldn’t be more–

A Slack notification appears.

Myoi Mina

Meet me in my office before you go home. I’ll clock you in for overtime.

Damn, another late evening.

You let out a sigh, leaning back against the chair. Your eyes glance towards her office. She remains fixated on her computer, typing out something. Her posture remains as confident as ever, even in her chair—straightened back, determined eyes. She’s just untouchable.

Oh, to make her crumble under your body.

—

“So, you do know the reason you’re in here, right?” Mina asks, tapping her Caran d’Ache on the table—steady, expressionless. You sit in your seat, raising your eyebrows. It’s probably nothing much. You know her.

You take a careless guess, “Extra prep for tomorrow’s interviews?” putting one leg on top of the other. Your hand thrums restlessly on your thigh, foot tapping on the floor.

“No interviews tomorrow. I’ve pushed it to Wednesday in case you become too,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “drained.”

You let out a chuckle, crossing your arms together on your chest. “Come on, boss, you know I never get tired. I once did twenty interviews in a day!”

Mina scoffs, a small smile escapes her lips. “And I admire that. Still, I’m certain that this is going to be the new extreme for you.”

You raise your eyebrows. This is intriguing. Maybe this will get you a promotion. “Well, whatever it is, I’m ready.”

Mina nods approvingly, with a slight upturn on her lips. “You have a lot of tangible qualities. We’d be pleased to have more employees like you, really.”

Safe to say that lights up a smile on your face. “I’m flattered, boss.”

“I’m happy that we’ve come to this conclusion. Now, let’s get back to our topic.”

She rises from her chair, sauntering around the table. Her motion is reserved. Every step is careful. She settles in the space between you and her wooden table before setting herself on it.

She looks down at you, smirking. Her flowery scent hits your nose. Heat builds up within your body. You stare into her eyes, and you’re sure that she’s inviting your gaze—the fire in her eyes, the slightly louder breathing than usual, the upturn of her lips, so you let your eyes wander. That slightly creased white shirt is so tempting, a deep neckline that’s just begging for you to rip it apart. Her belt, leather black, it’d sure look good on her wrists while you ruin her. The black skirt drapes over her legs nicely. If it would be just a few inches shorter.

You just can’t resist the temptations anymore. Your cock is fucking straining in your pants.

“God, you’re just smoking hot, Mina.”

It finally slips out.

Mina chuckles, covering her mouth. She leans forward just a little, enough to reveal the curves of her bra-clad cleavage. Oh, to rip it off and feast on her nipples while she moans like a slut under you. You reach out to her neckline, teasing it gently—cotton. Your fingers slide towards that top button, ready to undo it and free her from the confines of her clothes. Just imagine fucking her senseless in her own office, pressing her face against the table while you rut into her tight ass like you’ve always wished. You just have all the power in the world right now.

“Tell me,” Mina says, tilting your chin up, her body shivering slightly at your teasing. You’re affecting her, “what have you been wanting to do to me?”

You look into her eyes. They’re burning, and you can’t just contain your ferocity anymore.

“I’ve always wanted to take you, especially in this room, baby. Every time you walk past me, I just want to rip whatever you’re wearing and bury myself in your ass. God, you’re just begging to be fucked with it. I wanna know how that tight ass feels around my cock, and I’m going to cum inside while you’re just my little slut.”

Mina chuckles as the first button comes off, showing more of the breathtaking curves of her tits. You trail lower for the second, with a scorching need to expose every inch of her porcelain skin.

“That’s rather … explicit, don’t you think?” Mina says coyly, scratching your chin gently with her fingers. More buttons slowly come off with your hand. She’s just letting you do anything. You’re the one in control here.

“Your orders, baby,” you reply, smirking all assuredly. You lean closer towards her chest, taking in that flowery scent of her body. Your hand undoes the last button of her shirt, and the edge of it falls along with the gravity. She’s exposed, all for you to touch.

Mina smiles, satisfied with your assertions. “Would you mind taking my skirt off first? There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Oh, to finally see her ass after years of ogling on it, wishing to clap it against your thighs.

Your hand glides down towards her belt, undoing it with ease, as if it’s a practiced move. She lets out a pleased hum as the belt comes off—another layer of obstruction gone. You then reach for the zipper of her skirt, eager to pull it down. The air is thick with tension, ready to snap at any second. You couldn’t be more prepared to make her your cumdump.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you wanna see the surprise?” Mina huffs, hand trembling under your chin.

You chuckle. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Your fingers find her zipper, before pulling it down gently. The sound of it just almost breaks you—so intense, so irresistible.

Until it reaches the bottom stop. The clicking sound elicits a smile from the two of you.

“What are you waiting for?” Mina quips.

Without another word, you grab the waistband of her frustratingly long skirt. Fucking finally. Her ass is yours.

And you pull it down.

What the fuck?

It’s a fucking strap-on.

Your mouth hangs open in shock. Strange? Peculiar? Bizarre? Those words cannot describe the sheer astonishment you feel on what’s under her skirt. You try to say something, but nothing comes out of your mouth. Your body freezes, unable to make sense of the black cock poking into your face, only shivering with what you’re unable to process. You’re supposed to be the one using a cock here!

Mina runs her hand in your hair, playing with locks and curls on your head. You hear a soft giggle from above, but your focus remains on her throbbing plastic cock. Images of what she could do with it flash into your head. You’re pinned against the door, defenseless, as her cock drills into your ass rhythmically. Wet clapping sounds echo through the room—might even leak out to the main office. Lube drips down your thighs onto the floor. The room reeks of sweat, sex, and your perfumes blended together. She gives your ass a slap, and your moan becomes a melody for the entire floor.

And more.

Your face is pressed onto her stack of documents on the table, body shaking with her cock splitting you open. A pool of cum sits at the door. You’re oversensitive from your first orgasm, but she keeps attacking your prostate with an unmatched precision. Sweat drips down your forehead, ruining the papers with your mark of submission. “Oh, you’re ruining the next meeting’s plans!” Mina chides, without any signs of halting her barrage. She’s just wasting papers printing these out.

And more. This is just embarrassing, staring at her cock and imagining how it could ruin you into a slut.

Your leg is raised in the air. It’s for easier access, Mina said—should’ve kept yourself more flexible. Another pool of cum sits under her desk, not as much as the one at the door, sadly. Mina thrusts into you relentlessly, nails digging into your skin. Your face is pressed against the window, all visible for the workers going home to see. It creaks slightly with her motion. “I’m going to clean my window with your cum, well, if you’re not drained yet at this point.”

You’re fucked.

“Do you think black fits me? I’m pretty bad with colors, so I’d like some external inputs.”

And why the fuck are you still hard?

You look up at her, finding a smile so full of kindness—the kind of smile parents use to assure their children. It’s supposed to be warm. It’s supposed to be calming, but you’re fucking certain that there’s nothing but sin in her heart—lust with a tinge of pride, to be more specific.

“I’ll take that as a yes, glad that you love it,” Mina says, ruffling your hair softly. You just can’t process this anymore—so foolish with human dynamics. Your control is demolished the instant that her cock springs free, imagining the ways she can ruin you—against the door, on the table (on top of that, her meeting documents), against the window, cock dangling pathetically and giving everybody below a free show.

Suddenly, she grips a handful of your hair, not harsh, but effectively locking your eyes on hers. She leans in a little closer. You can see the small wrinkles under her eyes, the small pimples on her forehead, the streak on her lips. Her minty breaths brush against your face. It makes her more human, less of a Hel. Somehow, though, that just makes her more terrifying.

Humans shouldn’t be capable of wielding this kind of terror.

“So, I have lube under my desk, just for cases like this. Off-document disciplinary sessions, you know?” Mina says with a chuckle, eyes so full of faux-compassion. “Although I’m in the mood for trying something new.”

You can only gulp. Mind races with the possibilities of how she’ll make your ass ready for her cock. Honey? Vaseline? Condensed milk? A bead of sweat falls down from your forehead. Your body trembles in her hold. The scent of her body overwhelms you. You can’t think straight anymore.

“I did say that you possess a lot of tangible qualities, right?”

You sheepishly nod, barely prepared for her next words. It’s just all dread, no room for any levity.

“Well, there’s one thing that has been an ongoing problem with you” — and she leans closer to your ears, still on the desk — “you just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

The realization hits.

You are a bitch. All this time, you’ve been a foul-mouthed fucker who’s practically begging to be put in his place. Everybody has grown tired of you, but no one dared to take any action. Those boundary breaches, those uncalled-for teases, those flirty incitements, they were tabbed. And now, it’s time for you to pay it up.

“Therefore, you and your mouth need to be taught a lesson, one that’s going to stick.”

Mina gets down from her table, standing up straight—resolute. Her white top hangs open, all unbuttoned, but still as classy as always. Her black, artificial cock stands tall, ready to take on your fuckholes without any mercy.

“Kneel, please.”

Trembling, you get up from the chair. You’re a little taller than her, but that means nothing with her having everything in her hand like this. You feel reluctant to get down; a part of you hasn’t given up yet.

But an order is an order.

You sink to your knees, her throbbing cock in your face. It’s so close. The scent of her perfume and sweat wafts into your nose. Your hands tremble. Your body shakes with dread. Your stomach churns.

You’re hard, though.

“Open your mouth.”

Your lips part slightly, barely ready for her relentless violation. She grabs a handful of your hair with one hand, the other aiming her cock towards your mouth. Your mouth quivers in fear. The air is thick with anticipation—the way she’s going to feel in your mouth, the way it’s going to hit the back of your throat, the way that you might cum pitifully from sucking her cock alone.

You flinch at the first touch of her tip on your lips. It’s so cold, so synthetic. Mina pushes it inside further, parting you more. Your body writhes as her width spreads your mouth out. It’s so big. Too big. The air becomes her—her sweat, her perfume, her cock. You feel nauseous from the revolting taste of plastic. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever savored. Consider it a new experience. She pushes more, and it’s starting to trigger your gag reflex. You spasm uncontrollably, making retching sounds in your throat. This is too much for you, but there’s still a few centimeters left. She drills it in, and her cock begins to stretch out the back of your throat. She’s just too big for you. Your hands seek grips by your side. You settle on her thighs. Your eyes flutter. You can’t breathe. Fuck. And with one final push, she’s at the hilt. Your throat is fucking ruined. The sound of your breath against her body rings in your ears.

Fuck.

You’re just a toy for her now.

“How was it?” Mina scoffs, running her fingers through your hair. You try to focus on her eyes, but her cock is buried so deep in your mouth it robbed a handful of your senses away—vision included. So, you just give her thighs a few squeezes.

Mina giggles, relishing in the scene of her employee getting his mouth fucked out like this. “Oh, I don’t know morse code, baby. I think you’ll have to use your mouth.”

Of course, she presses you harder into her cock.

Your body writhes violently in her hold. You can’t breathe on her hips. Your eyes are fluttering, and they’re getting all teary. You’re just a lump of flesh, begging to be used and abused.

Suddenly, she lets go. Your head springs off, nape landing on the chair’s edge. It stings, but that can’t compare to the happiness you feel when a puff of air hits your lungs again. A relieved smile escapes your lips. You look up into Mina’s eyes. She smirks, and they’re still gleaming with feigned compassion. Drool falls off your lips onto your clothes, onto the floor. You’re a mess. It’s all dirty, but that’s the last of your priorities.

“Sorry, didn’t see my cock in your mouth earlier,” she says, smiling shyly.

You say nothing, still trying to catch your breath. Your heart races in your chest. Your body aches with humiliation. The synthetic taste of her cock lingers in your mouth, and you’re sure that you’re going to remember this for a long time.

Mina squats down, hand reaching out for your lips. You can only smile wearily against the chair, mind all scattered. She wipes the mess on your lips away, cleaning your face with her delicate hand. For one second, it feels so soothing, and you think that it’d be better if this is genuine. You can feel your smile widening, face shifting closer towards her fingers, nuzzling against them. It’s just so affectionate that you forget how she fucked your face mere seconds ago.

You hear Mina chuckle. It’s probably amusing her to see her boytoy loving her touches like this. She continues to wipe the remnants of spit off your face like a baby. No chastising. No mocking. Just pure warmth. Each stroke only makes you sink deeper into comfort that you forget you’re going to be facefucked by her in just a minute. You just try to cling on to something, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

Oh, she just broke you into pieces.

Finally, she lets go of your face, leaving you cold on the floor again. Your head rests against the chair—spent. Your spasms subside as your body finally finds its rhythm once more. Your breathing comes back to normal.

Mina smiles, before asking, “What do good boys say after they get something?”

“Thank you.” It slips off your debauched lips so easily.

“Thank you, who?” She presses into the tip of your nose lightly with a smile that just makes you melt.

“Thank you, Miss Myoi!”

The answer brings out a chuckle from Mina’s lips. She just looks so happy. “Ah, you’re close! Again, thank you, who?”

This isn’t just a quick patch, it’s a whole revamp on your brain.

“Thank you, mommy!”

It plagues your veins. It’s buried in your heart. It’s tattooed on your skin—permanent.

“Good boy.” She smiles, and you earn another ruffle in your hair.

There’s no coming back from this.

“Now, I’m going to stand up, alright? Don’t worry, mommy’s not going anywhere,” Mina says, cupping your cheek.

“Yes, mommy,” you reply, nuzzling and whimpering against her palm.

The comfort on your face is short-lived as she stands up, and you can only whine in disappointment. She towers over you once more. Her cock dangles just a few centimeters away from your face, so slick with your filthy drool. It wants you to suck again, suck on it until your mommy cums, and you’re ready to have your breath taken away for her pleasure.

Voice still honeyed, Mina says, “Time to get up, baby boy. Time to put that mouth to use.”

In a haste, you get up to your knees again. The synthetic smell of her cock hits your nose, but you don’t feel so disgusted by it like you did mere minutes ago. Instead, you part your lips instinctively, becoming a willing boytoy for her. Your eyes look up into Mina’s eyes, begging her to bury her cock in your mouth.

“Aw, I’m so proud of you. You’re such a perfect slut for mommy, ready to suck my cock like this,” Mina praises, pushing herself forward. A smile escapes your eager lips. You’re so close to feeling her again.

She grabs a handful of your hair, a little lighter than last time, and she guides you towards her cock. You stretch your mouth wider, readying yourself for her crushing width. Your throat relaxes. You’re going to take all of her in your mouth like a good little slut.

“Say ah,” Mina tells you.

“Ah …”

Your body doesn’t jolt the instant her tip touches your lips. You’re doing better. Her cock invades more and more of your mouth, filling it with its plastic taste, poking the back of your throat. Your body begins to shake as your breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. The scent of her perfume and her cock fill your nostrils. And in a heartbeat, you take all of her.

At the hilt, you can barely breathe. Your eyes flutter with the overwhelming size of her cock. You can only cling on to her thighs pathetically. Her nails bury deep in your hair. The feeling, though, it’s neither rejection nor disdain. It’s acceptance and pride. You’re at peace with how your body was made for her cock. You’re at peace with how you were born to be her slut.

And you couldn’t be happier.

Suddenly, the grip in your hair tightens, making you wince around her cock in pain. Your toe curls at the nerve-snapping sensation. Your fingers dig into her thighs. She begins to grind her hips against your face. Your throat makes guttural, animalistic sounds as her tip grinds the back of it. You’ve never heard that before. Your eyes quiver with the rolling of her hips. Everything is so blurry now. Tears form in your eyes. Your nose gets squished on her waist as she moves. Your lungs are begging for air, but it's so hard to breathe. It’s suffocating. You panic.

“What’s the matter, baby boy? Can’t breathe?” Mina asks, voice so fucking full of smugness. The answer is up for your grasp, if not for the black plastic cock stuffing your mouth like this.

She continues to grind her hips against your mouth, fucking your face at a tempo only she can hear. Your breathing remains lacking in any kind of rhythm.

Someone’s probably into it.

But not you.

Oh, and she just moaned for the first time in the evening. She grinds herself deeper, having that G-spot pleasured at a little cost of silencing that trigger-happy mouth.

“Your lack of manners won’t be tolerated, baby boy. You don’t let the adults do the talking alone.” Mina scolds, but her hips remain pressed against your ruined, spit-soaked face. She moans again, finally getting the insides of her properly fucked. The scents of her and plastic consume you like a hypnosis. She’s fucking your face, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Thankfully, she pushes your head back, leaving just her tip resting inside your mouth, and you know damn well enough to take a deep breath. It smells disgusting, blighting your lungs and blood vessels with a scorching plague, but it’s better than suffocation. Spit coats her cock, glistening it under the evening sunlight. It drips down to the floor—the first mark of filth in this office. Your eyes shoot up to Mina, who’s still giving you an infuriatingly warm smile.

She just won’t let you go so easily.

Mina laughs, still manages to keep that kind-and-loving façade after fucking your mouth open.

Twice.

She squints as she smiles, pulling your cheeks lovingly like you’re a child. Your body is still spasming, throat fucked-out. Your vision is all blurry with your tears. Your lips quiver against the head of her cock. Though, if she revels in having you like this, who are you to argue?

“That was so great, baby. Mommy’s gonna cum if you keep this up,” Mina praises, ruffling your hair fondly. You can feel warmth glowing around her body again. You know it’s a devious manipulation. You’re not supposed to fall for it, but your heart has already yielded, “and you’re going to be a cock-drunk mess by the time we’re done. How does that sound? Do you wanna make mommy cum?”

Your breathing slowly stabilizes. Your sight becomes clearer. It’s coming back. It’s your brief reprieve, and you’re cherishing every second of it, knowing how Mina can just rob it in a matter of seconds. She meets your gaze, anticipating an answer. The thought of your throat being used vigorously shouldn’t entice you this much. But with your cock twitching in your pants like this, you can only do the best you can—a whimper.

“Aw, you’re so cute!” Mina says, pouting, pulling on your cheeks again. It’s so affectionate, so blissful, and suddenly, you feel safe with her once more. You nuzzle against her soft palm feebly, letting out a string of whimpers against the tip of her cock. The smell of the office’s hand soap fills your nostrils. Your toes are still twitching softly in the aftershocks. The remnants of her skull-fucking linger in your bones, reminding you of the woman you belong to.

“Now, say the magic word first, and I’ll fuck that mouth of yours.” Mina coos, hand cupping your cheeks. Her skin still feels so smooth against your face, so warm.

Your mind blanks against her cock. What’s the magic word?

Mina seems to notice, letting out a soft chuckle as your brain goes into request timeout. “When good boys want something, what do they say?”

Oh, that word.

“Please?”

“Please, who?” she presses. She needs you to say it. It is just overkill at this point, but you’re too broken for any kind of resistance.

“Please, mommy!”

Mina’s smile grows, satisfied with you. “Good boy!” she says, and she lets her hand run through the locks and curls of your hair. She feels how your hair brushes against her skin. She feels your warmth in her hand. She feels how you’re awfully, utterly fucking hers.

And here comes another afterlife-teasing session.

She grabs your hair—not painful, not nerve-snapping, but enough to yank your head back and forth. Your mouth is stretched open by her cock, as she ravishes your throat again. You’re pushed against her hips, forehead pressing on her taut stomach, hands gripping on her thighs. Your body convulses, fighting for air as your nose inhales nothing but the synthetic smell of her cock. Your toes curl in your shoes. Your knees hurt. Your eyes flutter. It’s a physical struggle.

But a mental nirvana.

With her cock, it’s not an immediate fondness. The shock of seeing that strap for the first time still lingers in your head, if faintly. But with how she just slowly breaks you down from that point, it’s calculated. It’s masterful. Your brain fully knows that it’s a manipulation, a slow, torturous one, but your heart just can’t resist. The way she takes control of your head, the way her cock stabs the back of your throat, the way she praises you and degrades you, they’re just irresistible.

In short, you’re her nasty little slut.

“So hungry for mommy’s cock, aren’t you?” Mina asks, pressing you firmly against her leather. Her cock is already poking the back of your throat. It’s activating your gag reflex over and over. You make bestial, pornographic noises from your vocal chords. They echo in your ears, displacing the silence in the room, and it just fills you with an insurmountable amount of dread.

And she pulls back, leaving just the tip resting between your swollen lips. More drool falls to the floor. Your body trembles. Your toe curls. Your stomach churns.

“Look up here. I wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you.”

You struggle to meet her eyes, still fluttering in the mind-breaking sensations, so she tips your chin up slightly. And when you find her gaze, it’s still so full of that deceitful kindness. There’s comfort to it, just that her actions are a tad violent.

“Making eye contact with the people you talk to is important, you know? It would show that you’re giving your attention to them,” Mina says, and you just whimper feebly as a response.

“Oh, yes, fucking your mouth. Totally forgot about that.”

She plunges her length into you, stretching those cock-craving lips open. You flinch slightly. No throat poking this time, and you don’t gag as much as you did. Your grips on her thighs relax, not digging so deep as before. And she pulls back. Breathing becomes easier like this, small margin, but anything is better than suffocation. You do your absolute best to keep your eyes on hers. Another thrust, another recoil, and Mina begins to moan.

Your mouth can be used for good, after all.

She probably finds that it would be a little bullshit to start slow, considering that she pressed your face against her waist more than twice. That’s the tempo. She yanks your head back and forth around her cock, and she’ll moan every time it stretches your mouth open—so raw, so guttural.

You wince every time she thrusts her length into your pesky mouth, but you’re adjusting to it. It’s like you have a choice, after all. You’re living with it. You place your tongue on the underside of her cock, trying not to resist, trying to make it easy for the two of you. Your hands slide up her thighs, making her moans grow louder.

“Should’ve known how to shut your fucking mouth earlier, because, god, you’re such a perfect cocksleeve,” Mina says, voice cracking a little. She’s getting weaker. She’s getting lost in pleasure, but you just can’t do shit about that—too busy sucking fake dick overtime, at least you get money for this. “Two birds with one stone, you know? Just one cock for you to shut the fuck up and for me to cum.”

You whimper weakly against her length, attempting to keep that precious eye contact. It’s hard, though, when she just keeps yanking your head back and forth like this. Your hands slide towards her backside, finding that plump, muscular ass you were dying to clap your thighs against (well, before an executive decision says that your mouth looks better when fucked).

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I do jump squats,” Mina huffs between the filthy moans. Your spit is out of control at this point. An entire pool forms in the suffocating space between you and her—a mark of your submission. You make desperate gagging sounds against her length. The plastic taste of it fills your mouth. Your air is her. Just her—her sweat, her plastic cock, her perfume. You fight through your tears to look her in the eyes. Oh, and it’s fucking beautiful.

Everything is fucking beautiful.

Mina’s moans begin to climb the scale. Her grip on your hair tightens, yanking you harsher than ever. Her ass clenches in your palms. Her breathing quickens. A bead of sweat falls on your head. This is it—the moment you’ve been waiting for—from the first moment you see her strap, from the first throat fucking, from the first utterance of ‘mommy’. Myoi Mina, your boss, your mommy, your fucking everything, is going to cum from fucking your face.

Put it in your résumé: Myoi Mina’s whore.

It begins with how her body stiffens, with a loud, guttural groan that escapes her mouth. You are at the tip of her cock, and you should’ve expected her to push you onto her hips, to feel her rhythm, her trembling, her unravelling. Air is knocked out of your lungs at the instant your nose is pressed against the leather. Her body arches, half-collapsing onto the edge of her desk. She can barely hold it together. Your lips are stretched around the base of her strap, savoring that disgusting plastic taste. Her ass tightens in your hands. Your gagging sounds blend with her moans. Everything is exploding.

A fracture appears. Mina’s eyes flutter in the wake of her ecstasy. Her head falls backwards as she buries herself in your face through her high. She’s lost. She’s lost in the pleasure, succumbing to the sweetness of her orgasm. It’s a reminder of her mortality. She’s not a goddess. She’s vulnerable. She can break, just like you.

But god, you would trade everything if it means that you are hers. Plus, two jobs at a single company—UI designer and your boss’ slut.

HRs love it.

It abates, eventually. Mina catches her breath quickly, gazing down at you to watch her own destruction. Your face remains stuck to her hips, head tilting to the side just a little to gather that treasured air into your lungs. You shake, aftershocks linger. Your hands are pressed between her ass and the table. She looks at you, smiling, so proud of you. Her hands run through your hair one last time, feeling the mess she made, before dragging you off her cock. Spit falls to the ground, but you’re too exhausted to care. You get a good look at her—her eyes, her smile. She’s satisfied. She’s fulfilled. All because of you.

“You did so well for mommy,” Mina says, voice cracking a little. She cups your face lovingly, and you can’t help but to nuzzle against her palm, letting out a soft whimper. She just feels so warm, and you figure you must cling to her. You must cling to her for your dear life. “We’re halfway there already.”

Halfway there.

One hole down, one more to go.

Anything for your mommy.

—

#mina #twice #mina smut #twice smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

614 notes · View notes

dismalflo · 13 days ago

Note

Help, sweet Louise! I have a little request for ya if that’s okay: introvert Remus x introvert fem reader at Hogwarts - they decide to learn how to snog by practicing with each other just because they’re bffs and super awkward in general except when together… and obviously sparks fly and the dorks realise after a few epic snogs that there’s something real there. Thank you so much! I love Remus and I love your writing of him!

thank you for the request darling! <3 i hope i've done your idea justice, this is also much longer than originally intended.

Remus Lupin x reader who practice kissing with each other ✩ 2.3k words

cw: fluff, inexperienced remus, inexperienced reader, reader is a lil insecure, remus blushes alot.

The common room is quieter and more serene than usual. People come and go, but none linger or speak above a whisper—the subtle, soothing atmosphere of a Sunday evening. That leaves only you, Remus, and Sirius. The boy with black hair is frantically working to finish an assignment due tomorrow, one he’s obviously put off until the last possible moment. He’s most definitely copying the essay Remus lent him. “It’s just for inspiration, Moony, I swear,” he insisted, but his transparency is undeniable.

You and Remus, both finished with your own work, are lounging comfortably on the sofa by the fireplace, lost in your books. The warmth of the fire and the peacefulness of the room feel like pure bliss. You're sure if you could hear Remus' thoughts, they would echo your own contentment.

The stillness is shattered when James Potter bursts in, looking as though he's being chased, shouting and waving his arms in the air.

“Guys!” he exclaims, skidding to a halt near your group, his chest heaving as though he’s just sprinted the length of the school. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

You don’t bother to look up, eyes still fixed on the words in your book, more than happy to listen to the usual cascade of nonsense that follows James’ entrances.

“You made a fool of yourself?” Sirius asks, his tone flat and unimpressed, a look of mild exasperation on his face. On any other day, that guess would’ve been spot-on, but the fidgeting from James is relentless, and you can practically feel his excitement seeping into the room.

“I kissed Lily,” he says, a wistful tone in his voice. It’s then that you finally glance up, curiosity piqued. The expression on his face matches his words—a mix of pride and awe—and your lips curl into a smile, genuinely happy for him.

“That’s great, Prongs,” Sirius says with a grin before leaning in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But if I’m right, I’m pretty sure you’ve done that before.”

“Pads is right, mate,” Remus adds, his voice soft but amused. You glance over at him, finding him in the same position as you—leaning forward slightly, his lips curled into a quiet smile.

James blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, as if he hadn’t quite expected this reaction from his friends. But he shrugs, quickly recovering. “Yeah, but this time was different,” he says, his voice warming with enthusiasm as he paces the room. “It was a proper kiss! A snog for the first time. That's got to be special, admit it.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow, making a face that says it all—a mix of amusement and disbelief. He shrugs again, as if James’s excitement is lost on him. James deflates slightly, but it doesn’t last long before he turns toward Remus, eager for some support.

“You get it, don’t you, Rem?” he asks, his gaze intense but hopeful.

Remus opens his mouth, shuts it again, looking uncharacteristically flustered, the telltale flush creeping up his neck. He doesn’t even have the chance to respond before Sirius cuts in.

“Oi, don’t ask him,” Sirius says, teasing but with a hint of affection. “Our lovely Moony has no idea—fuck knows how.”

He says it like it's some sort of grand mystery, and as the words hang in the air, Remus’s gaze flicks over to you. The blush on his cheeks deepens just a shade, and you can feel the weight of his gaze before he quickly looks away.

Before you can process it, James spins toward you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What about you, sunshine?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You must know.”

Heat rises to your face as you glance down at your lap, fingers nervously fiddling with the edges of your book. Usually, the lack of kisses in your life doesn’t bother you, but under the boys' scrutiny, it feels like the most embarrassing thing in the world.

“No… I—I haven’t…” you stammer, your cheeks burning. “Before.” Your eyes are firmly locked on your lap.

“Leave her alone, James,” Remus says, his voice quiet and soft. He’s aware that if he makes a big deal out of it, you’ll only feel more flustered and retreat further into yourself.

James raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he huffs, clearly frustrated that none of you share his perspective. “Sorry,” he adds, offering you a grin. You nod absently, still trying to recover from the sudden rush of heat flooding your face.

“Right,” Sirius interrupts, slapping his knees as he stands. He turns to James with a grin. “I’m starving. Kitchens?” Without waiting for a reply, the two of them rush out of the room, their footsteps quickly fading away, leaving the common room in silence.

The only sound now is the soft rustling of pages as Remus returns to his book. But the words on the page blur in front of you, your mind fixated on the conversation that just unfolded. Confusion churns in your stomach, a burning insecurity settling deep in your chest as you replay the moment over and over.

You try to focus, but a question lingers, just on the tip of your tongue, like a secret you’re too afraid to speak. “Do you…” Your voice falters, barely above a whisper. The relief that washes over you when you realise your voice may have been too soft for Remus to hear is short-lived.

“Do I what, dove?” Remus hums, glancing over to you, his eyes soft with understanding. Clearly, you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“Do you think it’s weird… to have never been kissed?” You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you realize that asking the question, though painful, is better than letting it fester inside you.

He pauses, watching you carefully, as though weighing his words. After a moment, he shrugs, though the blush creeping onto his cheeks again betrays him. “I don’t think so.” His voice is steady, and he seems to believe it. “I’ve never been either. It’ll happen when it happens, I think.”

His calm, judgment-free response gives you a sense of comfort, and you feel emboldened. The thoughts you've been bottling up surge to the surface. “What if, when it does happen, I mess it all up because I don’t know what I’m doing?” There’s a sharp, desperate edge to your voice now, a frantic urgency you can’t seem to contain.

Remus’s gaze softens even more, the gentle warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. He sets his book down and shifts closer to you on the sofa, his voice quiet but filled with reassurance.

“You won’t mess it up,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m sure everyone feels a bit awkward the first time. I think… I think it’s supposed to be a little weird. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about… well, figuring it out together.”

You turn your head to look at him, your heart unexpectedly skipping a beat at the sincerity in his words. There’s a certain calmness about Remus that makes everything feel more safe. The gnawing insecurity in your chest eases just a fraction, but it’s still there.

“I hope so,” you say softly, eyes drifting back down to your lap as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A silence settles between you two, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. Remus shifts next to you, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks.

“Do you want to… practice?” he asks, so quietly that you almost don’t catch it, his voice barely above a whisper. But the words hit you like a spell, and for a moment, the world seems to stop spinning.

“Practice?” you echo, blinking at him in confusion. Your heart is suddenly in your throat, your palms growing clammy.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier now, though the blush on his cheeks only deepens. “Like… you know, just so we both don’t mess it up when it actually happens. Maybe we could just… figure it out. Together.” He shrugs, an awkward, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

Your mind goes blank for a moment as the weight of his suggestion settles in. It sounds absurd, and yet, the more you think about it, the more it seems… right. After all, you trust Remus more than anyone else. You’ve spent countless hours together, quietly existing in each other’s company, but this is different. The air feels thicker, charged with a kind of energy you’ve never quite experienced before.

“Just… practice,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “Nothing serious. Just… friendly. We’re friends, right?”

You nod slowly, your mouth dry as your gaze flicks back to him. “Yeah. Friends,” you repeat.

There’s a moment of stillness before you both shift slightly, the unspoken agreement hanging between you two. You can’t quite tell if it’s the nervous energy or something else, but when you finally look at Remus again, there’s a spark in his eyes—a flicker of something that seems to make the room suddenly feel smaller, warmer.

"Okay," you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you sit up straighter. Your heart is racing now, but you can’t help the soft, nervous laugh that escapes your lips.

Remus turns toward you fully, a faint grin curling on his lips, though his expression is still a little sheepish. “Alright then. So… how do we start?”

“Um… I don’t know,” you admit, your own nerves suddenly rising again. “Do we… just… kiss?”

The word seems to hang in the air like a strange, foreign thing. But before you can spiral into embarrassment, Remus leans in slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “We just… kiss.”

And then, with an almost surreal kind of slowness, Remus’s face inches closer to yours. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you almost can’t hear anything else—nothing except for the sound of your own breath, and the slight shift in the air as your lips draw closer. You close your eyes just before they meet, a quiet shudder running through you.

The first touch of his lips against yours is hesitant, like a question. And then, slowly, it deepens, and you find yourself returning the kiss with more urgency than you expected, as if your body is doing things your mind hasn’t quite caught up with yet. The warmth of his lips, the softness, the slight pressure of his hand against your shoulder—it all feels so new, but so natural, like you’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than you care to admit.

When you both pull away, it’s like the world has shifted somehow. The air between you feels charged, and yet there’s still that soft, strange energy that’s been so familiar to you both. You blink at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and he does the same.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of the kiss lingers between you, something you both feel but can’t quite name. Your heart races, a little faster than it did before, and you’re sure Remus feels the same way. The room feels even quieter now, the crackling fire the only sound to fill the space.

“I… I think that was better than I expected,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter whatever this moment is. You feel a little embarrassed, but mostly… amazed.

Remus laughs, a nervous chuckle, and rubs the back of his neck again. “Yeah, me too.” He glances at you, then looks away quickly, his face flushed a deep shade of red. His smile is hesitant but genuine. “You—uh, you didn’t mess it up at all. Not even close.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. “Good to know.”

You sit there, eyes meeting his once again, and for a brief, strange moment, the awkwardness feels like an old friend. Something comfortable. But something more too. The air between you both has shifted—there’s no denying it now.

Remus clears his throat softly, breaking the silence. “So… maybe… should we try again?” He says it carefully, almost as if he’s afraid of making things worse, but you can see the genuine curiosity in his eyes. A soft, playful tension fills the space between you two.

For some reason, the question feels different this time. It doesn’t feel like you’re fumbling or practicing anymore. It feels real.

“Yeah,” you answer, breathless again, but this time there’s no hesitation. There’s only the quiet certainty of something new blooming between you. When your lips meet again, it’s not hesitant this time. It’s familiar, tender, and there’s an unspoken promise there, a quiet connection that grows deeper with each gentle press of lips against lips.

The world around you disappears— no more uncertainty or awkwardness. Just the soft pressure of his lips, the warmth of his hand settling against your cheek, and the steady rhythm of your shared breath. There’s something slow and sweet about this kiss, something that feels like the beginning of something bigger.

When you finally pull away, it’s not the same as before. This time, when you open your eyes, you can’t help but smile—genuinely. You feel… different. And judging by the look on Remus’s face, he feels it too. His eyes are wide but soft, and the flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded at all, but it seems to suit him somehow.

“I think I get it now,” you murmur softly, “what James was talking about.” your voice barely above a whisper as you look at him. Remus simply nods, his lips curving into a small, private smile.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice equally quiet. “Me too.”

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin

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sakuraszn · 9 days ago

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﹒♡ CONFESSION ft. katsuki bakugo

cw: lots of fluff, flustered bakugo. he’s such a cutie

The ramen shop was packed, the air filled with laughter, chatter, and the rich aroma of broth and grilled meat. The entire Class 1-A had squeezed into the cozy little restaurant to celebrate Todoroki’s recent jump in the hero rankings.

Bowls clinked, chopsticks clashed, and the energy was electric as the group indulged in warm food and lively conversation.

And at the center of it all—Katsuki Bakugo sat stiffly, arms crossed, scowling into his half-finished bowl of ramen like it had personally offended him.

Not because he wasn’t happy for Todoroki.

Not because the food was bad.

But because of you.

You, sitting just a few seats down, laughing at something uraraka had said, your eyes crinkling, shoulders shaking.

And it was driving him insane.

For weeks—no, months—Bakugo had been dealing with this… feeling. This stupid, irritating, suffocating feeling every time you were near him. It was different from the rivalry-fueled adrenaline he felt in battle, different from the pride he carried when he improved as a hero.

It was something he didn’t understand, something he couldn’t control.

And he hated that.

But tonight… tonight was the night he was going to do something about it.

Or at least, that’s what Kirishima and Sero had forced into his thick skull before they even walked into the restaurant.

“Dude, you’ve been acting weird around them for weeks.”

“Just tell them! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know, idiots, maybe they laugh in my face and never talk to me again?!”

“Oh please, she would never—”

“Shut up. I’ll do it when I damn well feel like it.”

But now that he was here, surrounded by people, nerves bubbling in his gut like an active volcano, feeling like it was a lot harder than he expected.

“Bakugo,” Kirishima’s voice cut through his thoughts, low enough that only he could hear. “You good, bro?”

“I’m fine,” Bakugo growled, barely glancing up as he stabbed at his noodles with his chopsticks.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? ‘Cause you haven’t insulted Kaminari in like ten minutes. I’m starting to get worried.”

Sero snickered. “Pretty sure that’s a new record.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Kirishima and Sero exchanged glances before the redhead leaned in again. “Are you actually gonna do it?”

Bakugo exhaled sharply, gripping his chopsticks so tight they nearly snapped.

“After this.” His voice was firm. Final.

Kirishima grinned, nudging Sero. “Told ya he’d do it.”

“Hey, I had faith,” Sero said, shrugging. “Just not a lot of faith.”

Bakugo shot them both a murderous glare, but before he could verbally rip them apart, Iida clapped his hands together, signaling for attention.

“If I may have everyone’s focus for a moment!” Iida said, standing up. “I’d like to propose a final toast to Todoroki!”

Todoroki, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, blinked as everyone raised their glasses. “Oh,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“To Todoroki climbing the ranks!” Iida declared.

“To Todoroki!” the class cheered, clinking their glasses together.

You turned, smiling at the dual-haired hero. “You really deserve it, Todoroki. We all knew you’d make it far.”

Todoroki’s lips curled into a small smile. “I appreciate that, Y/N.”

Bakugo scowled.

It wasn’t Todoroki’s fault, but hearing you say his name like that, so softly, so encouragingly—yeah, it bothered him.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

As the night wound down, people started finishing up their food, settling their bills, and stretching lazily before making their way out.

“Damn, that was good,” Kaminari sighed, rubbing his stomach. “I think I ate too much.”

Mina laughed. “You definitely ate too much.”

One by one, people began saying their goodbyes, heading off in different directions toward the dorms or home.

And that’s when Bakugo knew—this was his moment.

You were slipping on your jacket, adjusting your scarf when he finally forced himself to move.

Kirishima shot him a thumbs-up from across the room, and Sero winked.

Bakugo rolled his eyes before stomping over to you, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

“Oi.”

You looked up at him, blinking. “Oh, hey, Bakugo! What’s up?”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. Okay. Just say it. Say it, dumbass.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Instead, he found himself standing there like an idiot, fists clenched at his sides, staring at you.

You tilted your head, confused. “Uh… you okay?”

His jaw tensed. This was already going horribly.

And then—because frustration was the only thing that ever helped him push past his nerves—he blurted out:

“Are you really so oblivious?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair before pointing at you aggressively. “You! You’re oblivious! Have you seriously not noticed?!”

Your confusion deepened. “Noticed what?”

He exhaled sharply, cheeks burning. His whole body felt like it was about to explode.

He had two options: Keep making a fool of himself or just say it and get it over with.

He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled, and then—

“I like you, dumbass!”

Silence.

Bakugo cracked one eye open, stomach twisting into knots.

You were staring at him.

Not laughing. Not recoiling. Just… staring.

Then—

“You… like me?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what I just said, idiot.”

A slow smile crept onto your lips. “You like me?”

His face turned an even darker shade of red. “Yes! Stop making me say it, damn it!”

You let out a laugh—light, airy, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place. “Wow,” you said, grinning. “I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy.” His voice was gruff, but his hands were twitching at his sides, resisting the urge to do something—anything—with them.

You stepped closer, peering up at him. “You know… I like you too.”

Bakugo’s brain short-circuited.

“…What?”

You laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like you, Bakugo. Have for a while now.”

His heart stopped.

Then jump-started at triple speed.

“What?”

You shrugged, smirking. “What? Are you oblivious?”

His eye twitched. “You—you little—”

You poked his cheek and laughed. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed kat’ I’m just messin with ya.”

He exploded.

Not literally. But his entire soul combusted.

“Shut the hell up!” he barked, face practically glowing red.

But you just laughed again, softer this time. Fond. “So… now what?”

He swallowed, heart still racing. “Now… now you let me walk you home, dumbass.”

You beamed. “That sounds nice.”

And as you started walking together, Bakugo felt something strange settle in his chest.

Warm. Light.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

#✎ᝰ — sakuraszn !#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x black reader #x reader #sero hanta #eijiro kirishima #denki kaminari #mina ashido #ochako uraraka

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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

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thinking about waking up to Daryl making breakfast in the kitchen of your shared home:

you wake up to an empty bed, but that was normal. he had been out with Aaron for days on end, you were so used to waking up alone since he took the position. but when you wake up to an empty bed and the smell of maple syrup and warmth wafting through the cracked open bedroom door...

he would be barefoot, his usual boots abandoned for once. what if he was wearing his boxers instead of his usual jeans, finally having somewhere to be himself and loose in your home together :')

his hair is still a little messy from sleep, sticking up in places he didn't bother to smooth down before starting on his breakfast mission

he's so good with his weapons, his tools, so its cute watching him fumble around trying to make a perfect breakfast for you.

his brow is furrowed, tongue sticking out as he focuses on flipping the pancake in the pan to perfection.

when he notices you walking in, only in his large t shirt, his cheeks pink and he's all shy as he admits he wanted to surprise you today. He says it all as your arms wrap around his mid drift from behind, pushing your face into his back and inhaling his scent.

This was your happy place. This is all you wanted, for forever.

The food might not look perfect, but you notice he tried to make it nice—he even wiped the edge of the plate with a rag, something you’d never expect from him.

There’s a rare softness in his eyes as he watches you take your first bite, clearly waiting to see if you like it. You catch the tiniest twitch of his lips when you tell him it’s good, a quiet kind of pride he’d never outright express.

When you tease him about burning the toast, he gives a gruff, half-hearted defense, “Ain’t burnt—just got a little extra crunch, s’all.”

When you offer to clean up after the sweet breakfast he made, Daryl shakes his head with a quiet grin and tells you he has other plans for the morning. He drags you back to bed, kissing and licking the last traces of syrup from your fingers before taking his time worshipping every inch of you, making sure the day starts in his favorite way—with you.

The morning is gentle and slow with sweet nothings whispered to each other, the longing in his eyes when he tells you how much he misses you when he’s away, the feel of his big, broad hands on you and ya know what I’m gonna stop there before I lose my mind.

#wanted to try a dif format for some thoughts :)#inspired when I saw this gif #I just love him so much #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon imagine #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead

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angxlofvenus · 2 years ago

Note

Hii! I saw your requests were open and I thought I'd give you a hc/fic idea:

The brothers (or whoever you'd like to write for) reacting to Mc using their shampoo/ soap in the shower for whatever reason ^^

I hope this makes sense to you lol, anyways I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, don't push yourself too hard, and drink water!! You can also take any creative liberties you seem fit, or if you decide you don't want to write it I won't be offended ^^

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thank you so much for the request!! This is absolutely adorable, I hope everything is to your liking, Have a great rest of your day/night !! Genre: fluff Ship: Reader x brothers + Diavolo (individual headcanons) TW: clingy demons, minimal cussing, no use of readers' pronouns, second-person pov

When You Use Their Shampoo

Stepping into the shower, You were greeted with the nice hot/cool water raining from above, Going to start your routine, You reached for your shampoo bottle only to find it empty! Looking around you spotted his shampoo and conditioner, surely he wouldn’t mind… right?

Lucifer

100% smells it on you no matter how little you used

Won’t tease you in public but as soon as ya’ll are alone? Ho ho, he’ll never shut up about it

Smug, the definition of smug

You had to go and inflate the ego of The Lord of Pride even more

Very possessive afterwards

Congrats, You know have a scary guard dog demon!

Mammon

He probably wouldn’t even really notice at first

He’d probably compliment how good you smell, Then would slowly realize…

Great, Now he's yelling gibberish while his face slowly gets redder and redder

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, don’t do that to me!” But will become very clingy

If you say his shampoo smells good, he may lose his mind.

“Well of course ya wanted to smell Like the great Mammon!”

Levi

Poor awkward nerd

He never saw this coming

I think he would realize you used his shampoo but won’t say anything

Flustered to the max

You have broken him

Levi.404 has stopped working, please reset.

After like the third day, You’re gonna have to bring it up

Secretly really likes it, Won’t tell you that though

Satan

I think he is very picky about scents so he knows as soon as you walk into the room

A little bit of a tease, asking if you were trying out a new shampoo

Smug 2.0

He would tease you a little bit around the others but not bad

He would flood you with compliments, You using his shampoo would make him very lovey-dovey

Expect him to ask for ya’ll to just use the same stuff from now on

Asmo

Oh honey, he knows.

He knew before you even got out of the shower.

But that doesn't mean he's any less excited!

Better plug your ears because he will let out the loudest squeal known to mankind

Seriously, Lucifer may come and check on ya’ll helicopter mom

Asks what you do and don’t like about it

He just wants you to feel as fantastic as he does when using it

Everyone will know you used his shampoo, He brings it up in every conversation

Would also 100% ask you to use his bath products 24/7

Beel

Now Beel has never been really into insane products like Asmo or Luci

So he may not really recognize it at first

If you decide to tell him, This man will become a happy demon puddle

He’ll give you a big smile and tell you you’re free to use any of his stuff at anytime

We don’t deserve Beel

Will bury his face into your hair and just stay there

Takes you out to Hell’s kitchen that night just because he loves you so much

Belphie

Oh this little shit

Tease! He won’t quit bragging!!

Smug 3.0

Such a brat about it too, He won’t let anybody near you, Well of course he’d let Beel, but who wouldn't?

He has practically locked you up in the attic with him

Why go outside when ya’ll can cuddle?

Diavolo

Has really expensive products

He may even have a custom scent

If so, He’ll know instantly that you’ve used his shampoo

He’ll bring it up with a large grin on his face

When you confirm his suspicions, he’ll just laugh

He’s so happy ya’ll are close enough to share things like that, You have no idea!

He may make a sly comment to Barbatos or Lucifer just because he’s a little possessive

Will follow you around like a lost puppy, Now Barbatos is mad at you because even less of his work is done

He can’t help it! He just loves you!

Will be the third on my list to offer ya’ll to just share bath products

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 7 months ago

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this has been sittin in my drafts for so long lol

chewing my fingers off like bubble gum thinking about childhood best friend katsuki scaring off all the other guys he thinks have a crush on you bc in his mind you’re already dating. (he’s also too shy to ask you out.)

in his defense, you’ve been together for so long you might as well be dating. katsuki prides himself in the fact he knows quite literally everything about you : how you like your eggs, what you like on your toast, your favorite tv show and movie, not to be confused with your comfort movie, which he also knows. your exact order from the coffee shop down the street from your apartment complex and your favorite flavor of chapstick. he knows all of these little things and even other insignificant facts by heart, but he’s so proud of the fact that those other pricks could never know you better than he does.

he bets those losers who ogle you like cavemen don’t even remember your name, lest they even know it in the first place. just thinking about you dating anyone that isn’t him makes him grimace, has him gritting his teeth n’ veins popping.

he damn near acts like your boyfriend too and it’s definitely not by accident. katsuki knows he wants you and he wants you—and others to know he does, too. he walks you to and from class, drapes his arm around your shoulder, makes you lunch and he’s overall just very clingy. you’ve had to explain multiple times that he in fact was not your boyfriend, much to your chagrin. (and his too) simply claiming you’re really close because you’ve known each other since you were in diapers. katsuki calls bullshit, ever since he was 5 he knew you were the one for him. he’d go around telling your parents you’d get married when you both grew up and he sure as hell plans to keep his word.

and katsuki knows it’s bad, he knows he shouldn’t, but he waits for the guy he seen you talking with after school. he’s been talking to you more often, even offering to walk you to class, so fuckin’ chivalrous. thankfully for him, you didn’t seem to like him much.

“hey.” he grunts, placing a hand on the guy’s shoulder, watching his face contort as steam comes out of from under his hand “yn doesn't like you, fuckface. so i suggest ya back off an’ quit whatever the fuck you’re tryin’ to do with her.” he’s gripping onto his shoulder harder unconsciously and the guy tries brushing him off, sputtering and desperately looking for an excuse and katsuki’s having none of it. “listen.” he growls “cut the bullshit. i know you want her, can tell from a mile away ya fuckin’ do.” he snarls, lip curling up in disgust “ but do that shit from a distance, f’ i see you lookin’ at her like that again i’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth in."

he shoves the guy away and he’s already off like nothing happened. he’s already wasted enough time with this loser and he can’t wait to see you because tonight’s movie night and he knows you’ll just watch your favorite movie for the umpteenth time, but he really couldn’t care less, whatever makes his baby happy.

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ofbatsandballads · 4 months ago

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darling, won’t you take me home?

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: reader has a mild cold, but nothing much else (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is just a lighthearted sick fic that got real prose-y at the end bc I was listening to my Jason playlist and got all in my feelings while drowsy off cold medicine. again, i give thee my wares.

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You wake to soft light filtering in through the white curtains of your bedroom and the warm weight of your lover’s arm across your waist. The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose. And you usually don’t feel like there’s sandpaper in your throat. And your body doesn’t usually feel this heavy.

Goddamn it–you’re sick.

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest. You think he might be able to doze back off and you’re glad for it. Then your hopes are dashed. One, two, three sneezes wrack your body in succession and you are finally forced to admit defeat.

“Are you sneezing?” Jason asks, groggy but inquiring.

“…no.”

You don’t even know why you tried to lie to him. You’re a bad liar in most cases, and an absolutely abysmal liar when it comes to Jason. He simply sighs and you’d bet twenty dollars that he’s rolling those pretty seafoam eyes of his. He easily turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him. Great, now you really won’t be able to lie to him.

“I told ya that you were gettin’ sick,” he scolds gently.

“‘M not sick!”

He did. And you are.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He tries to keep his face serious, but soon the facade cracks and he lets out a deep belly laugh as you glare at him. You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again.

“Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble, your words trailing off unintelligibly.

Jason doesn’t miss it. He never does. Fucking vigilantes and their fine tuned hearing.

“What was that?” he smirks.

You whisper it again, quiet as a mouse. He shakes his head. You smack him in the chest.

“Ah ah, I wanna hear it,” he laughs.

“I said you were right! There! You happy now?” you pout, burying your head in his chest.

You can feel the giggles travel through his body and find it impossible to fight the smile it brings to your face, even if your head feels foggier than Gotham after a heavy rain. You squeeze him tight, a sudden aggressive love for him that you just need to let out. It does nothing to his strong frame. He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

“C’mon, we’re makin’ soup.”

One thing about Jason Todd is that he’s an amazing cook. He didn’t cook much for himself before he met you. He’s told you he didn’t see any point when cheap takeout would fuel his body just fine for whatever fight was inevitably coming for him. But now he has both the reason and the time to care. And he cares. So much.

You can see it in the way he sets the chicken to bake while he tells you about the new book he got from the bookstore down the block. You can see it in the way his skilled hands, calloused and bruised, slice the carrots razor thin because he knows you hate the crunch of them. You can see it in the barely noticeable look of pride on his face as all the ingredients simmer in the big metal pot, giving your shared home a warm aroma of comfort. You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

“I know you probably aren’t too hungry, but I need you to try to eat at least one bowl for me,” he says in his gentlest negotiation voice as he puts a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter.

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

“And you’re takin’ cold medicine the second you get some food in you.”

He’s not asking anymore, just stating facts.

“Gonna stay up all night watching me too?” you ask teasingly.

“I might,” he retorts.

“I love you too, Jay.”

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this. You tell him as much just to watch the soft pink turn to vibrant red.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

One bowl of soup and a disgusting shot of cold medicine later, you find yourself wrapped in the arms of your lover as you both lounge on the couch. Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

You may not be a vigilante or The World’s Greatest Detective, but you can put all the pieces of the day together well enough. Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough. But the words are enough for you. You swear that you’ll go to your grave finding all the prettiest ways to tell him just how much you love him. Because you do.

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#I just love him so so much. the yearning I feel for this fictional man is astronomical

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