#you think you get one side done but the rest is just fucked

[kikidoul]

── GAME OF PATIENCE.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used mean dom! jungwon cock sucking brief and discussed somnophilia reader trying to seduce jungwon twice HEH rough sex degrading kink crying pussy eating fingering begging squirting lmk if i miss anything else . . .!? 2417 — mlist. req

note. and with this, the next few works will be heeseung.... taglist. @tfwbluu

The first time it happened was in the morning. It started when you woke up without your alarm going off, much to your happiness. Having pulled countless all-nighters to study for your examinations for the past few weeks means you deserved a much-needed uninterrupted sleep. You turned, the sheets softly rustling and you were granted the sight of your boyfriend sleeping peacefully, unaware of your dilemma. You clenched your thighs when your mind wandered to the wet dream you had, about how Jungwon had you bent over the nearest surface, ruthlessly pounding into you. 

You had discussed this with him before. This refers to waking him up in a different way. Which was why you stealthily crawled towards him, resting yourself between his parted legs. Thankfully, Jungwon doesn’t sleep with pants on, only wearing his boxers—meaning there was one less article of clothing to remove. You pulled it down, mouth watering at the sight of his soft cock—something you were determined to change. 

Leaning in while tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, you gave kitten licks to the tip, eyes focused on his face. He squirmed, cutely scrunching his nose but didn’t wake up. Now motivated, you took him in your mouth, moving forward until you felt the tip hitting the back of your throat. Your free hand moves to fondle with his balls as you begin bobbing your head. 

“Ngh, wh-what,” he stirred to live, looking down at you with half-opened eyes, only to sigh in pleasure, tossing his head as you traced the veins protruding from the side of his cock.

“Baby—hah, st-stop,” he protested, and you released his cock, worried that you had done something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing, I’m just too tired for this. Maybe later,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to come up. 

You sighed, disappointed but nodded in understanding. Just like you, Jungwon had pulled lots of all-nighters to get through his examinations and as much as you were tempted to get railed into oblivion, you wanted your boyfriend to get as much rest as he could. You pulled his boxers back up, crawling into his awaiting arms and rested your head on his chest. 

“Although, can’t say I was expecting that,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. 

~ 

The second time it happened was when Jungwon was making instant noodles for the both of you. You entered the kitchen, dressed in one of his oversized shirts that reaches your upper thighs. You didn’t bother wearing any shorts, leaving you prancing around your home with your panties showing, if you were to bend over. You wrapped your arms around his slender waist, resting your chin on his left shoulder. 

“Wonie, can we fuck?” You asked, the bluntness of your question startled him, nearly making him drop the chopsticks he was holding.

“N-now?” He stuttered, glancing at you while he continued to stir the noodles. 

You whined, burying your face in the crook of his neck, hands sneakily sliding down—bypassing the hem of his shorts and boxers, boldly wrapping your hands around his cock. He hissed, the sound not going unnoticed by you. 

“Please? I want you so bad? Need you to fuck me real good,” you continued whining, using the right amount of whineness that never fails to make him weak in the knees. 

You grinned when you heard his breath hitched in your throat, thinking you had him wrapped around your fingers. To your surprise, he ducked underneath your arms as he went to grab two bowls, leaving you there, eyes wide open with disbelief written all over your face. Jungwon laughed at your bewildered expression. 

“Sorry princess, but we’ve to eat first. Maybe later though,” he patted your head. 

You grumbled a string of curses under your breath as you helped to grab the utensils while he set the table. “That’s not fair. I’ll rather eat your dick than noodles.” 

“(Name)!”

~ 

The third time it happened was when you were getting ready for dinner and it seems like your boyfriend too, had reached his limit. You and Jungwon had made plans to meet with the rest of your friends, wanting to get together after your examinations were over. After all, what better way is there to celebrate other than eating good food and enjoying the company of your friends? However, your boyfriend wasn’t pleased with this. He grumbled, acting like a child as he remained laying on the bed, face-planted into your pillow to inhale your lingering scent. 

You, on the other hand, were almost done. You stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and Jungwon pushed himself up, throat going dry at how stunning you looked. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, not even when you stopped before him, snapping your fingers in front of his face. His sweatpants tightened, eyes drinking in your figure. Your lips were moving but he couldn’t comprehend a single word you were saying. 

“...ie, hello? Earth to Jungwon? Are you still there?” You frowned, waving your hand before his face. 

He snapped back to reality, shooting his hand out to grab you by the wrist and tugged you forward. You let out a startled yelp, falling onto Jungwon’s lap, only to land in an awkward position. Your hand was sprayed on his chest while the other was held over his shoulder, wrist captured by his own hand. Jungwon had to lean back to avoid knocking his head against yours. Your breath hitched in your throat at how his eyes darkened. 

“Wonie?” You murmured, your heart nearly stopped beating for a second as he ducked his head to plant kisses along your neck, only to stop at a certain area that he knew you’re sensitive. You shivered when you felt him licked, sucked and bit your skin, undoubtedly leaving a hickey behind. 

“Ngh—W-Wonie, st-stop,” you whimpered. But despite your words, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling your body growing hotter as he pushed your dress up and up, until the fabric rested on your hips. 

Jungwon only moved away when he was satisfied, his thumb tracing the newly-formed hickey on your neck. “You’ve no idea how you make me feel. Wearing something like this, in front of everyone else. It’s like you’re asking to be fucked.” 

You mewled at his crude words, your panties getting soaked. Your boyfriend smirked when he saw how you tried to clench your thighs. He changed your position, pushing you down onto the sheets with him hovering over you. Jungwon quickly slid his knee between your legs, gaining a moan from you when you felt him firmly pressing his knee against your clothed clit. It was by instinct that you jerked your hips forward, attempting to get some form of friction but Jungwon held you down, preventing you from moving. 

“Isn’t that right? Trying to suck my cock early in the morning and begging to be fucked in the afternoon. You’re nothing more than just a cockslut,” he sneers. 

“Wonie, please!” You begged, your clit throbbing and clenching on nothing but thin air. 

He chuckled, shifting down until he was on his elbows and rested himself in between your spread legs. “Please what, princess? Tell me what you want.”

“T-Touch me,” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling Jungwon’s hands tracing the outline of your figure until they landed on the hem of your panties. 

Snap! 

You squeaked when he teasingly tugged at it, letting it go as it snapped firmly against your skin, making you flinch. Jungwon leaned down, blowing hot air against your clit that was shielded by the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. Your legs twitched, hips canting forward, wanting to feel his tongue on you. He pulled it down and threw the obstacle to the floor, not caring where it landed. 

“Fuck, Jungwon!” You cried out, back arching off the bed when you felt him lapping away at your clit, collecting your arousal and spreading them across your puffy folds, as if he was spreading butter on a slice of bread. 

Unlike before when he will take his time to break down your walls one by one, reducing you to a whimpering and moaning mess, this was different. You could feel how he was consuming, devouring you whole. It was like he was a predator who had finally caught its prey, never wanting to let you go. Endless sounds of moans and mewls flowed from your lips as he ate you out like he hasn’t eaten for a month. 

You gripped onto a fistful of his blonde hair, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders. Your eyes rolled upwards as he gave a harsh suck to your clit, spreading your drenched folds with his thumbs, sliding his tongue deeper in, reaching places where you thought it was impossible to. Jungwon had loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to buck your hips into his greedy mouth—like you were riding his face. 

The bedroom was filled with the lewd sounds of your boyfriend slurping, licking and eating you out along with your shameless sounds. You felt like you were floating, your muscles tightened, heat pooling in your stomach—like a rubber band threatening to snap into half. You tried to say something, anything but you couldn’t. Not when Jungwon delivered the final blow in the form of gently nipping the hood of your clit with his teeth. The extra simulation and brief pain was enough to tip you over the edge, squirting over the sheets and your boyfriend’s awaiting mouth. 

Your legs fell off his shoulders, a thin layer of sweat clinging onto your skin as you panted to catch your breath. Jungwon lifted himself up, his lips and chin glistened, covered in your slick. You gulped when he wiped them away with the back of his hand, licking them off his fingers with his own tongue. 

“You taste divine, princess,” he coos, your ears flushing red. He made quick work of his clothes, getting to his knees as he grabbed his cock, pressing the tip to the slit of your cunt, moving in circles to collect the remains of your slick after you had squirted. 

“Oh,” you whined, digging your fingers into the sheets. “Wonie, please—fuck!” 

Jungwon ignores your words, eyes fixated on how your walls are trying to suck him in—a sign of how desperate you are to have something inside you. As much as Jungwon wants to give you—his pretty girl, what you want, he wants you to beg. He wants you to burst into tears, pleading for his cock to fill you up. And at the same time, he wants to ruin you. Which was why Jungwon moved to slip and rubbed the tip of his cock, teasing your hole for a few seconds, only for him to pull out of your soft, warm, velvety walls. 

You squirmed, tears of frustration prickling your eyes—frustrated at how your boyfriend was being a tease, blurring your vision. “Inside, please, please, please!” 

“You’re acting like a desperate whore, you know that? I don’t think you deserve it, not after what you’ve put me through,” Jungwon grinned, the sight anything but heartwarming, creating a sense of dread.

Whining, you batted your eyelashes at him while giving him your best impression of doe-like eyes. “Please, Wonie?” 

His features softened, flashing you a loving smile. “You’ll have to try harder than that, princess.” 

“Please? With a cherry on top?” You continued, maintaining the act. 

“Good enough,” he hums, not letting you register his response and slammed his cock in in one, quick and powerful thrust, instantly filling you up with his cock. 

Your mind reeled at how full you felt, the tip of his cock grazing against your cervix. Jungwon groaned at how your walls instantly clenched onto his cock, not wanting him to pull out. He swore he could have cum right there and then, with how hard you were gripping onto him. You let out a shriek when he pounded into you without warning, slowly pushing your body up, towards the headboard. 

“Fuck—Mo-More—hah, ngh! Please, pleasepleaseplease!” You sobbed, getting drunk on the intoxicating and addictive feeling of his cock smoothly sliding in and out of you, repeatedly abusing the same spot, over and over again until you were seeing stars in your vision. 

Jungwon rested his hand on your stomach, where a faint but evident bulge was shown. “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Good for letting me fuck and use you for my own pleasure. Wonder how our friends will react if they were to know how desperate you are for my cock.” 

You outright sobbed at his words, making your mind spinned. Jungwon chuckled at how fucked out you already were. You couldn’t muster a proper sentence, tossing your head back with breathless pants and “ah, ah, ah” falling from your parted lips. To him, no words could describe how gorgeous you looked in your current state. 

The previously neat and pristine dress was now filled with wrinkles, beyond salvation. The straps had fallen, resting along your shoulders. Your breasts spilled from the dress, bouncing with every movement. Your styled hair was messed up, spread out beneath you like a halo. The makeup you wore was now smudged with tears staining on your face. Seeing how wrecked and ruined you were, Jungwon groaned, quickening his pace as he brutally snapped his hips against yours, eager to make you cum for the second time. 

“J-Jungwon, c-comi—” You muttered, only to moan as Jungwon leaned down, capturing your left nipple in his mouth. He teasingly nipped it and his action was rewarded with you clamping down on his cock, making him groan. The vibration against your chest was enough to tip you over the edge. 

Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm, pathetically squirting. You whimpered as Jungwon followed suit, releasing inside you, pumping full of his cum. He collapsed on top of you, eliciting an undefined squawk and you weakly smacked his shoulders, groaning at how your body fluids and sweat were now mixed together. 

“Get off, you’re heavy,” you grumbled, not making any move to push him off despite your words. 

Jungwon lazily rolled off of you, laying on his back beside you. “That’s not what you should be saying to your boyfriend after he blew your back out.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never say that again.”

“But it’s the truth” 

“YANG JUNGWON!”

[amourtoken]

i can’t stop thinking about sub!luke. imagining him laid back on the couch and whimpering as you take him apart and not caring that jack could come back at any time and see the mess he can make at your hands. i also think sub!luke would love for you to spit in his mouth, he’d practically beg for it….

GODDDDD THIS IS SO GOOD FUCK

Lukey in subspace would be so fucking malleable, he'd do anything under the sun for you cause the way your tight pussy feels gripping his cock has his brain melting.

Push him back onto the couch, sit on his lap and grind your hips against his until he's literally tearing up just begging to feel you. He's so easy to break. It'd be even worse for him on the days where you make him hold his hands behind his back so he can't touch you, but today you're feeling rather generous so you allow his trembling hands to rest on your soft hips while you're in his lap.

Jack said he'd be back from the gym by 10, it's at least 9:30 but you could really care less especially since it's just starting to get good. When you finally give in to Luke's pleas and drag his sweats down just enough to free his cock he's practically worshipping you for the bare minimum, hips jerking when your hand brushes his length as you move to strip your lower half. You think he's so cute like this, but God is he pathetic. He's big, strong, tall, insanely talented and driven, adored by the Devils' fans, and here he is begging you for pussy with teary eyes. If only they knew, you think.

You'd love to just sink down on his cock right away but that'd take away from the fun of really unraveling him. instead you take your place straddling his hips again, reaching between your bodies to slowly stroke his cock and guide him right against your soaked slit. Luke's head fell back against the couch cushions but your free hand reached up to lace into his curls, tugging just enough to make him whine as you made him reconnect eye contact with you.

"Did i say you could stop? Eyes on me, Rusty"

" 'm s-sorry- f-fuck I'm sorry- p-please-"

you'd planned on teasing him a little differently but your attention had been redirected. His apologies are sweet but you'd like to see his mouth doing more work and talking way less. One of your hands stays tangled up in his hair while the other releases his cock to slide up his torso and settle at his throat. You squeeze the sides gently, feeling his soft moans vibrate against your palm as his brain goes fuzzy. God he's so pretty, in every way. Even the sounds he makes are pretty. Nothing could compare to the strangled sob that left his lips when you finally settled onto his cock though, especially when he's already struggling not to cum from just the feeling of your warm walls squeezing him just right.

Once you start bouncing on his cock he's done for. His arms tighten up around your waist to hold you close and he tries so hard to just sit and take it but he can't help the way his hips buck to meet yours halfway. You'd be lying if you said the friction wasn't nice, even if he's technically out of line. Your hands move to cradle his face and he just melts into your hold, especially when your thumb brushes his bottom lip and he takes it into his mouth. It does a pretty good job of muffling all the sounds escaping his chest but this isn't enough for you. You know he could do way more for you.

"Lukey, open. Stick your tongue out."

If there's one thing about him you appreciate it's that you never have to ask anything twice. He does exactly as you asked, not expecting you to lean over and spit in his mouth but he's not complaining. The action has him whimpering, especially when you slide your two middle fingers over the slick mess on his tongue before sliding further into his mouth. He can't tell which feelings to focus on first and he loses track, his body so overwhelmed he can't do anything but let you take over even more. He absolutely cums buried balls deep inside you while one of your hands stays settled on his throat and the other fucks his mouth. He's such a mess, drooling around your fingers and quivering so hard he's sure his legs are too weak to stand.

Youve both lost track of time and are DANGEROUSLY close to Jack walking in and seeing Luke fucked out beneath you by now.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Friendly Competition | Triangle!Guard x GN!Reader |

Gif by @delirivmtr3mens

Summary: You two seem to hold a competition when it comes on who takes more players down.

Warnings: Canon violence - Guns - Flirting - Organ Traffic - Reader gets called Sweetheart - MDNI -

Notes: Yes he is a bastard but I like him so if you dont then dont read. And I dont remember his number.

Player 104 The robotic voice in your left ear said. You checked throw the scope of your riffle and took the shot on his knee so he would not die fast.

Player 206 The voice said once more, this time you went to aim for her side when another shoot won yours and passed throw her liver.

"Really 033" You asked pulling your shirt to talk throw the small speaker. A male laught was your response, this was the only chance you got to know his real voice and not the robotic one the masks gave all of you.

"You need to be faster 013" He responded and you could hear the smile on his face as you repositioned yourself waiting for the next order.

Player 055 You took the shot it pierced the guy's heart. You cursed yourself mentally since it would mean less organs.

Player 405 You saw the male go down with a clean shot to the head

"You are welcome Sweetheart" His voice came once again and you had to bite down your lip to prevent the smile

"About what? You just disposed a good body" You responded looking once again as the doll sang

"And you shot one down throw the heart. Its that an indirect for me?" He joked to you as he positioned himself once more

"Im counting 14 on my side. Whats yours?" You asked to stop him from going further not that you were not liking it

A whistle rang throw your ear pircing it. "I believe we are on a tie Sweetheart. Maybe we should look for a new way on breaking this"

You could hear a small "why dont they fuck and be done" by other Guard. You felt pity for the rest. This has been going since you joined the games as a Guard.

Player 127 You were already on him shooting down at his feet then at his knee. You saw another one fall not to far away.

"15 and 15 Sweetheart, I know you can do better" His taunting yet alluring voice said

"Are going to let me win this round?" You asked back checking one again and shooting off when the voice ordered

"Temping. But I believe we should set a reward for the one who wins" Another one down "What are you doing after this" He taunted knowing fully well you two needed to follow protocol.

"Oh, I will be going out to dance tonight" You followed his joke hitting another player "Do you think you could follow my moves?"

"Sweetheart for you? I would follow anything" He flirted "I should be telling you that I dance hard, and I get that a lot"

Player 400 He was double shot by you and him and you had to bite down a laught from the side comments of the others.

The next song would be the last one and the reminded players behind the lines would be shot down. This was the last chance to break the tie. And you knew most Guards would let you and him have your own fun. You two were the best snipers of the Guards after all, all of them did bet on who would take down the most players. Even if they had to tolerate the flirting.

The Doll stopped and you wasted no time in taking down the rest of the players. You die not see their numbers or faces. For a lont time now you had detached yourself from it.

"Guards, collect your weapons and retire to your rooms. This time Guard 013 its the Guard with more kills followed by 033"

"Better luck next time 033" You called as you tucked down your gun and prepared to leave.

"Such a cold heart. Does this mean I dont get to dance with you tonight?" He asked, him pulling away his own weapon. His mind imagining yourself under the uniform and under him.

"You can knock yourself and figure it out" You responded "A warning, im a difficult dancer" You finally said pulling your mask back on.

"Oh, I would not have you any other way Sweetheart. Cant wait"

The doors opened and all of you stepped out. You could see his figure a few guards in front of you. He was all rigid and ready to follow the Square Guard orders.

It was small, very subtle but when you passed by him as he left his riffle you felt his gloved hand on you. A shiver down your spine by the idea of him coming to your room tonight.

It was luck the Front Man or other Guards seemed not to care at all. Hell maybe you two would be recorder and then the recording would be sold on the dark web.

Just as the door was closing behind you it was pushed open, guard 033 was there uniform still on. The door was pushed closed as he removed his mask and black cloth, his eyes full with desire were the first thing you saw and the messy hair.

He was on you in an instant pulling your own mask off and the cloth kissing your lips like he was starved from them. He caressed your sides urging you to get out from the uniform as he bite down on your lower lip. A suprised gasp left your mouth and he wasted no time in pushing his tongue inside. It explored yours, you got a small groan from him as you pulled his hair.

Still kissing he pushed you onto the bed, getting between your legs to let you feel just how much he wanted you. He licked your cheeck and bite down on the little flesh the uniform let see.

Moaning you removed your gloves to feel his hair now on your skin taking a mental note on how soft it was. When you feel his teeth on you, you pulled at his hair again harder getting now a full moan out of him.

"No marks" You warned, as you started to get out from the uniform.

"Sweetheart just time...I will let you call the shoots" His voice was raw with need as he kissed right where your pulse was. "Next time, and trust me there will be a next one. I will be the one who decides"

[op-81-lvr]

Lando meeting oscar's brother for the first time and going 'oh no, he's hot' then proceeds to make a fool of himself not knowing that reader is dating logan, logan then takes lando of to the side to intimidate lando off before he takes one look at the pathetic face lando makes without him realizing he's doing so and goes 'fuck, this guys kinda cute in a pathetic kinda way' and then proceeds to leave and serch for reader, when they both find each other the basically say 'we should add lando to our relationship so we can cuddle him into oblivion' which leads to them flirting with lando, but lando rationalizes that they aren't actually flirting with him till thier all at a bar celebrating another of lando's home-race wins and logan and reader just kiss him as a reward for winning his home-race, cause that boy would be in so much denial he wouldn't belive it was real because he 'didn't deserve it'

Sorry this is so long got really into it.

–🍑

Hi Peach, this is not too long. I live detailed requests its so much easier for me to craft a story around them.

You and Logan started dating when you were teenagers so you were going strong when you met Lando

Being Oscars brother and Logans boyfriend you were in attendance to a fair few races. Obviously not all of them, you still had to work.

When you met Lando for the first time you were smartly dressed for the paddock and hospitality. Hair nicely done and sunglasses resting on your face.

You were talking to Oscar and Logan about whatever. Logan and Oscar were friends, nothing unusual there.

Lando somehow failed to notice the fact that yours and Logans hands were interlinked. Logan noticed him looking at you though.

He didn’t say anything in the moment but once the little group had dispersed Logan pulls Lando aside before he could leave.

Logan just tells Lando that yous are dating, Lando looks so fucking pathetic when he looked at Logan.

After FP2 Logan found you again for a proper chat about it.

‘I think we should add a third’ Logan said as he looked at you from the bed in your hotel room.

‘If you mean Lando then I agree, hes such a princess. He would fit right in’ You said, barely even looking you from your phone.

‘Really? No resistance or anything?’ Logan began rambling. You put your phone down and got up, Shaking your head.

‘I think hes cute and you clearly do too, you’re all wound up just speaking about it’ You said, acknowledging the blush on his cheeks

You and Logan spent god know how long persuing him. And he was not getting it. Brushing it off as absolutely nothing

It wasn’t until Oscar asked him if you and Logan had asked him out yet then he even looked back and realised.

He won at Silverstone and obviously wanted to get sloshed. And he did, he was blackout drunk by 11pm

When he woke up he was in bed with you and Logan, one at either side, and a pounding headache.

He was still in las night clothes but at least he was still dressed, means nothing happened.

“Morning Lan” You said, patting his chest gently and leaving and unprompted kiss on his cheek. You did know he wasn’t your boyfriend right?

It wasn’t until Logan woke up and also kissed him and then kissed you that he realised what was happening. Had he agreed to be your third last night?

‘Your brother is going to kill me’ He pointed at you

‘He knew before you did dumbass’

[deluluass]

Time cast a spell on you

Content warnings: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-harm; implied suicide; name-calling; degradation; misogyny Other tags: heavy angst; yakuza AU; multiverse; reincarnation; actually just an old lady's excuse to finally write a silver springs angstfic

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

It's like picking a flower when he takes you on his lap. "Wanna hear about the little shit from earlier?" he groans into your ear, squeezing your ass.

"Sir, the blade."

You're keeping yourself from landing where he's got his thighs spread apart— prude bitch, but he is who he is. And you're just not strong enough.

"All good, doll," Sukuna reassures you.

The straight razor in your hand could cut his throat. You're not being stupid for keeping it at arm's length. It's old— the kind of thing brown-nosers would call vintage, collected and well-cared for with a gold handle— but it sure as hell can nick and make a caught fish out of a grown man. He knows because he’s since developed an eye for these things. That’s why when it was gifted to him a few years back, he had done nothing more but make the guy lick the toe of his shoe for being so thoughtful towards poor, fatherless Sukuna.

He offers his throat to you and juts out his chin, stubble lathered with cream.

“Just be careful,” he teases.

You go to work without a word. The blade is a kiss against the barely-there hair. You glide your hand sure as can be, fingers resting over the shank, until half of his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum. Water drips from the faucet and clinks into the wide porcelain tub behind him.

The silence could tick off even a monk.

“Anyway, this man, right?” Sukuna begins to mutter, curling his lips in once you shave over his mouth. “Drove me up the wall today, kitten, you wouldn’t even believe it. Water boarded, tased, had his balls cut off, still, not talking. But just as I thought he would— ‘Don’t fuck with people who got nothin’ left to lose,’ he tells me.”

You are soft under his palm. “So, I’m like, fuck does that even mean?” Sukuna continues, bending his neck to the side to give you more room to work with. “And that’s when I just about lost it. I was hungry. It was hot and I was getting tired. We’ve been at it for five fucking hours and I had to end it somehow. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

You don’t answer, but he keeps going. “I had his bitch taken out of the car.”

The blade over his jaw halts. Sukuna grins. Open his mouth some more and that thing could kill him right now. But would it? Would you? He feels his cock, stiff as a motherfucker and balls heavy in his boxers.

“Pretty, young thing. My boys said she was tight too.” The bit of skin where his lips meet stings when you stroke over there. “And that’s when he started singing.”

His laugh rumbles off his chest, before pulling you closer. “Like a bird,” he sighs to your ear.

Don’t fuck with people who got nothing left to lose, my ass.

Your heart is a battering ram, and he feels every weak, desperate blow. There’s no longer a trace of cream to be found on his face.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Sukuna coos as he tips your chin up. “Something I said?”

As always, you do not speak, that gaze of yours gone off to someplace else. He clings his tongue. The blade sinks down, down, down over his throat. Your hands tremble as tears come rushing down your face.

There she is, he thinks with a satisfied groan.

“Go,” he commands. “Kill me.”

He waits, watching you as his thumbs caress the swell of your tits, then mouthing your nipples over the loose cotton of your top. Your nipples harden over his sweeping tongue. He bites and takes the fabric between his teeth.

The blade nips in time, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Blood trickles to his bare chest. It blends seamlessly with the cherry blossoms and dragons tattooed on the pectorals, although old Emma-ō on his stomach looks like he gashed his eye out.

This is his favorite part. And it never gets old no matter how many times he sees it: your face falling apart, searching for a way out only to come to terms with the fact that this is it.

There’s nowhere to go. You’ve reached a dead end.

It was raining that day he first caught sight of this. On your knees before him, a blade hung over your neck— a simple, crude, mundane blade—held by a lowly servant. That was all that you amounted to. You didn’t even deserve a death dealt by any of his four arms.

And that’s all that you amount to now. You take the razor off his neck and bring it to yours.

“You’re gonna kill yourself? Some big plan you have there.” He scoffs, pushing your ass down to grind into you. “Do it, little girl.”

Your panties are pushed to the side, but nothing comes out of you. Not a single gasp or moan. Just those tears and that never ending vacuousness before you. His fingers twitch. He should just kill you right now. Get this all over with.

“Worthless cunt,” Sukuna growls, before grabbing your neck. The razor clatters off your grip. And soon enough you’re on the floor beneath him, throwing scratches and kicks that almost hit him. So, so close.

The blotched scar on your left palm peeks through his clutch.

“That’s more like it,” he barks out, laughing as he pins your wrists to the pearl tiles. Your thighs are forced apart, hanging limply over his. “Now, say it.”

“You’re a monster!”

His laughter rings sharply in his ears. “How nostalgic.”

He takes his cock out of his boxers, heavy in his hand and already leaking, before smacking the tip over your clit.

“What’re you hoping to achieve this time, hm?” It doesn’t take long before he’s aching to have your cunt gripping around him. His cock is slick enough for the both of you anyway. “Take it, you’re a good girl, you can take it, good girl, just like that, yeah.”

You whimper breathlessly, releasing that cute little whistle of a cry every time his thrusts brush the cushy, spongy lump way, way deep inside you. Sukuna feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he just can’t help it.

“You look so pathetic,” he jeers. Pathetic and even prettier when he gives your face a slap or two. “Were you hoping I’d take pity on you? Show remorse, that it? And what d’you think’s gonna happen after you bleed to death? I’ll tell you, it’s okay, I’ll tell you—”

He leans down, your lips almost touching, as he tells you, gently, “I’ll call for room service, have your body in a bag, give the cleaning guy a tip for his time, and then— then that would be it. That is it. You have nothing. No one would say anything, no one would cry, no one would go searching. Your story ends at a dump. Just some pussy to sell.”

Tears wet his cheeks, tracking like a stream, and his cock throbs inside you. If heaven were real, it exists right here. “Then, once that’s over, I’d get another piece of ass that won’t fuck me over the way you did.”

You’re a hyperventilating, hiccupping mess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls out, then drags you down by the leg so that your face is at the receiving end of his cock.

All it takes are some nice, firm tugs at his shaft and he’s shooting his load all over that pathetic, pretty little face. A creamy splatter over the bridge of your nose, dripping down your cheek and mingling with drying tears. Sukuna doesn’t bother wiping when he’s got you for it.

“Clean it up, baby,” he whispers.

And you do.

You suck at the tip where he’s still leaking, tongue lapping up what’s left of cum.

He then gets up to pat his face with a towel and a shaving lotion, gelling his hair back afterwards. You hobble towards the other side of the bathroom. Your lone figure, sitting naked inside the tub, is reflected and scattered into a hundred different you’s by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors caging you on all sides.

The hot water spills over the wide tub and into the floor. Sukuna sighs, before approaching you to grip the back of your head, leaving a loud kiss on your lips. You bite back, and his cock twitches again.

He forces his tongue in, keeping his eyes open. So do you.

You part with both of your spit tied loosely together, until it melts and disappears into the water.

“Please lock the door on your way out,” you croak.

After all that, any man would feel compelled enough to move mountains, so he indulges you.

The lights in the walk-in closet are bright when he dons his button-up and slacks. He sits on the chair that faces the skyline. Under his feet, the city waits, half-asleep. A whiskey later, and he still hears water rushing.

And rushing.

And rushing.

Sukuna throws the decanter into the carpet, then strides to the bathroom. But he finds, with a sneer, that he cannot get in.

“Open,” he growls as he twists the handle and bangs the door. “Don’t fuck with me, open the door.”

Like most things, it eventually breaks under his hands, and once it does, the door crashes with a thunderous clap, alerting the men posted outside.

They wait behind him, no one dares to move until he does.

It takes Sukuna a second before he’s stepping inside the bathroom. The water on the floor is bright red, spreading like ink, and the closer he gets, the darker it becomes. You are lying in the tub, hand splayed over the rim. Your fingers are slack around the straight razor. You are a cold, plucked flower in his arms. 

And the water does not stop rushing.

--

“FOR COLLUDING WITH THE SORCERERS OF THE NORTH, FOR THIS TERRIBLE ACT OF TREACHERY AGAINST LORD SUKUNA, AND FOR UPSETTING THE GODS WHO WE BESEECH TO GRANT US MERCY IN THE COMING HARVEST—”

They are no better than ants as they bustle towards the courtyard. Commoners and nobility alike jab their way to get the best view even when there are dark clouds overhead, while handmaids trail behind the highborn ladies with bright silk robes, parasols popping open one after the other. Ants and dogs, the lot of them.

The air is humid, and it brings with it a stench of iron that makes Sukuna’s mouth water. The spectacle of bloodshed has not been done in a long, long time, and anyone with a pulse clamor for it, regardless of where they stand in this insignificant, unimpressive kingdom.

Seated on the dais, he yawns and thinks, in hindsight, that he could just end this all himself. But he does not. By his side, Sukuna can feel Uraume’s shame like hail against the earth.

It was him, after all, that brought you to Sukuna as a gift.

To while away the quiet hours, he said.

A poor villager whose meagre value lies in what’s trapped inside her skull. Washed up ashore. No family. Not even a single thing to call her own.

“— IS HEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH!”

The priest pauses. The audience catches its breath.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?”

You make no sound, head down and on your knees: the center of the attention of a hundred gluttonous eyes.

To everyone’s delight, it is Sukuna that breaks the silence.

“I want to see her,” he orders. They make you turn away from the people.

And you do not disappoint Sukuna. You never have.

The emotions of the lowest animal flutter across your face— a predictable end to be sure, but even then, your gaze does not falter.

You look at him as the priests chant a prayer. You look at him as the executioner lifts the sword. You look at him and, in that heartbeat where the blade just about grazes your nape, it seems to Sukuna like you’re witnessing this entire execution from high up above.

All twenty of his fingers itch. “Arrogant wench,” he mutters.

The sword sings at the taste of your blood as your head tumbles off into the mud.

Rain, soon enough, begins to fall like arrows on the capital.

After the crowd has dispersed, sated, Sukuna dismisses Uraume. And then he is left alone.

He steps out into the rain, stopping only to where they held you down. The rain has already washed out the blood, but right where he’s standing there are two dents on the ground the size of pebbles.

That must’ve been where you’d dug your knees.

He crouches down. The tips of his fingers sink into the hollow soil.

He feels rain drops break on his skin, tungsten and diamond, and the fire that has forged him grows bigger, deeper inside him. It feels like it’ll lay waste to his own body, but it doesn’t. Instead, it eats the whole world. The fire chews through wood, metal, and mineral, until screams and cries create a symphony just for his ears.

Yet, it only feels colder, somewhat— and the only warmth comes from where he’s got his fingers buried.

The rain does not stop. Fire reduces to ash. Water reduces to smoke.

And in his mouth, there is a child’s curse, tumbling off his lips.

How does it go again?

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

“Whish, whoosh,” Sukuna drones. “Whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

--

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

He understands the factual nature of these two things because he recalls, in vivid detail, two of the times that he’s been alive. He had four arms that he still misses to this day like phantom limbs. This is what he knows the moment he gets old enough to pick pockets.

In each one of them, Sukuna remembers the sensation of power.

Raw, soaring power unlike anything that has ever existed before. In the first life, Sukuna was a sorcerer, a demon, and— more accurately, he was a god.

The second one is a bit different. Stranger, too, funny enough, than the first. He was not any of those things, but close to it, in a way. The memories come to him inside a cell after a fight. In that life, Sukuna conquered galaxies, and the stars and the suns and the moons yielded to him. Planets gave under his feet. That ancient future called him emperor, and there was not a corner of that vast universe that did not tremble at his name.

The first one has got to be his favorite, while this one… took some getting used to.

Sukuna only has two arms to begin with. The standard affair. He doesn’t have a curse to wield or a galactic army to lead. Nevertheless, it starts where it always does: at the bottom of the fucking barrel.

Little Ryomen Sukuna grew up in the dingiest alley of Kabuki-cho and had a crack whore for a mother. Power was something that he had to grab by the throat with nothing but his own two, regular hands, but— power was power.

And no matter where he was, in what lifetime, in what form, power was something that would eventually come to him.

It couldn’t be more evident tonight.

A year in the game and Sukuna’s already made a hostess out of Kamo’s first lieutenant— an ugly, garlic-breathed hostess pouring him a drink.

The old man pushes more women to his lap, to which they titter and giggle in response. Sukuna lets them hang onto him, fat cigar in his mouth, while the old man makes a jester of himself trying to get on his good side. To his credit, he does everything that might put a smile on Sukuna’s face, even going as far as to make a scene with another waitress.

Drinks shatter and the women surrounding them yelp out of the couch. Even the ashtray has turned to shards. Another gimmick and this old man’s done. Sukuna wouldn’t even mind if a war comes out of it. Maybe it’s just what he needs.

“Do you know who you’re serving, you dumb slut?” He’s slurring his words as he jams his thumb in Sukuna’s direction. “You can’t even give us some quality fish?! What kinda dump are you runnin’, huh?! This tastes like soap!”

As the woman bows in apology, he grabs his glass to splash its contents at her— maybe he thought this would amuse Sukuna.

“We’re sorry for the food, sir,” she announces in a clipped tone, head still down and her uniform damp with sake. Sukuna couldn’t see the entirety of her face, but it’s visible enough for him to know that she’s just a waitress, if the shapeless pants and long sleeves didn’t already make it obvious. There to put food down as silently as possible, not pretty enough to be taken out. “I’ll inform our manager about this situation right now.”

“No, no, no, missy, y’cmere, look— y’don’t gotta call anyone— could get you into trouble! I’m forgiving enough, hm! We can jus settle this ourselves, w’dyou say?”

The old man grabs her by the shoulder, pushes her down to her knees, and turns her towards Sukuna. Her eyes are still trained to the floor.

“This fine, young man over here, well, you just broke his ashtray, and now his cigar’s makin’ a mess— see that? Ash every fuckin’ where!  Now—”

He snatches her left wrist as if she’s some marionette and extends it, palm open all beggar-like, to where ash falls. “—All you gotta do’s improvise! Ladies! The night’s still young! Let’s all have fun!”

The party returns, business as usual. Sukuna only watches.

He watches the women and men— each and every one a whore, drink and sing and dance until the whole room looks like it’s about to throw up.

He watches the old man bend over backwards and just about present his asshole for fucking.

And he watches her as he flicks his cigar clean.

The ashes on her palm have accumulated into a hill. She doesn’t make a noise, wouldn’t be heard in the cacophony anyway, but Sukuna sees her flinch when ember hits her skin. The women beside him aren’t subtle. They peck and lick his neck and fondle his cock to keep his cigar away from her palm, but—

He wonders, keeping his eyes on her, what would happen if—

Sukuna flicks the cigar onto her palm, then pulls it away as he peels a manicured hand off his crotch, and even with her head down she must have already guessed because before he could even stick the glowing stub to the bit of flesh he’d intended—

She catches it.

The waitress, still on her knees, rises to seize the cigar in her palm. It burns through her skin and the sizzling invades his nostrils like grease. The women beside him cry out with the waitress, but nobody stops him as he presses it down to her palm.

“S-stop- stop it…!” Sukuna hears.

She remains on her knees, a guttural scream clamped between her teeth. Her palm does not budge, and when she finally raises that stubborn head to look at him, what he sees in there is louder than what any scream, any curse could ever be.

In her eyes are the thousand different ways that she wants him dead, along with a million other lives, and a million more universes, imploding together like a great storm.

Sukuna laughs— a sharp, incredulous thing that was stolen from right under his nose.

“It’s you,” he gasps lowly. “It is you.”

---

“—I, OF THE FEW AND HUMBLE BA-A-AYLAN, CONDEMN THIS DOMITOR’S CLAWS OVER OUR MAM-A-NA GALAXIAS…!”

The assembly is in an uproar. Guards from hovering balconies land on the steps below him. Their rifles, however, remain suspended as soon as he lifts a finger, his chin resting on the opposite hand. Remnants of the fiery rocks that used to decorate the aisle are now scattered across the polished, onyx floor, crimson pocks among the swirling cosmos around your feet.

“Y-YOU WOUND OUR LANDS- RAPE...! AND PILLAGE...!”

The beaded halo perched on your head is askew— like a gale had gone through a garden. Gold and silver coins hang from your two earlobes and on the frayed ends of your vestment. They clink together like rain as you collapse on your knees. Sweat tarnishes some of the coloring painted on your face, revealing streaks of tender, quivering skin. Although the red dot on the right side is intact, the other one is being nursed behind a bleeding hand— scorched, like the rest of your face.

A courtier points at the slaver groveling on all fours a few paces behind you. “Death to the human pirate! You dare bring this- this impertinent witch before the Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil! Death!”

“P-please, my lords…! Sp-spare me…! She speaks in tongues— e-exactly what one would expect from an exotic creature—”

“Silence!”

“She is a virgin, my lords! Untouched!”

“The witch has burned half its face! It is now sullied and no longer fit for He Who Brings to Heel!”

A single glance from him is all it takes to silence the rabble.

Sukuna descends the steps.

He wraps one hand around your waist and picks you up with it. Your toes dangle over the strewn rocks. A talon lifts your chin to meet his eyes.

The unburnt side of your face winces in pain, feeble arms grappling out of his hold.

Millennia have passed since he has laid eyes upon your kind. After complete subjugation, there has been nothing much more for this lot other than labor— creatures to trade with and make trade of. There may be squabbles on that side of the universe that would-be lords and conquerors can make a feast of, but it no longer interests him.

Extinction dawns with a dimmer star besides.

Very few things can occupy his mind and even stay there. Sukuna has forgotten what the last human being he’s encountered looked like. Even the pirate, with its familiar weaponry and slaver’s garments are alien to him now, but— curious, isn’t it?

It is as if he has seen you before.

Just you.

Somewhere, in one of the corners of this endless universe.

--

He could’ve done this quicker, without all the melodrama, but the people at the bar called themselves your family. Sukuna heard it with his own ears when he followed you back to the kitchen after that night.

“We know you’re on your own,” they told you as they dabbed medicine on your palm. “But you’ve got a family here.”

And so, Sukuna watches your face as these same people that had called you their little sister take the case from his accountant.

You refuse to sit on his lap, something that he’ll allow for now. On the opposite side of the car, you can clearly see the woman who runs the establishment count the bills, each piece of paper thwip-thwipping in her hands, then stacking them together into thick towers.

One million yen.

Two.

Three.

Relentlessly, you slam your injured hand against the window.

Four.

“Mama-san!”

Five.

Six.

That is all you are worth.

“Mama-san..!” you screech, jamming the door handle that does not budge.  “I’m here, mama-san! I’m right here! Please- help me! I’m right here please don’t leave me! Mama!”

It’s not until when the woman leaves with the case that you break into sobs, your head in your hands. He’s leaning against the window on his side, arm over the headrest, as he counts down, mentally, towards the inevitable.

You lunge at him.

“What do you want from me?!” you cry, face wet with tears and snot. “What the fuck do you want from me?! Who do you think you are?!”

His driver says nothing, and Sukuna only tilts his head when you grip his collar.

He wipes your cheek as he says, more to him than you, “You really don’t remember.”

--

You have resigned yourself to death. That much Sukuna knows.

You are a pet. Nothing more. That is the way of nature: you cannot even hope to outlive him, even if he willed it so. Weak, negligible little creature.

The reptile that's got a dagger to your throat is under the misconception that you are more than that. Your palanquin and guards lie on the ground. Its mask does not conceal the fact that it’s about to piss itself, its green scales distorting into a sallow shell as he approaches the wreck.

Sukuna’s army watches. The war ministers and envoys in the ships flying above him are waiting for his next move. He’s heard the whispers.

Domitor Ryomen Sukuna, He Who Brings to Heel, Noro-I no Oh, Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil— has been conquered by a human slave.

How charming, he thinks with a smile.

He does not bother to address you. He knows how you look at him.

In the same breath as a white dwarf hurtles through the sky, Sukuna has ripped the hearts of both slave and assassin in his hands.

His army ululates.

“EH-NI AH DAH-YUS!” they roar.

The ships blare their horns, groaning like a deep-sea behemoth.

Sukuna decimates the Holy Seat of Desh-Ih in a matter of two rotations. It is a battle-hardened planet, and he loses a quarter of his soldiers by the end of the last siege. There is a sensation in his chest that makes him halt as he slices their general in half.

They had put up a good fight. For that, Sukuna would remember them. And— something else.

Something he cannot put a name to. It would be irritating if it were not so…peculiar.

It rains on his way back to his ship. The planet’s neighboring galaxy, Setus, is visible despite, bloodied vessels that set flames over the graveyard of severed and incinerated Desh-Ih warriors.

And in his lips is an old song— rushing like children playing tag near a stream.

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

Where did he hear this? Sukuna does not remember. Perhaps from a dead, primordial planet.

Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams…

“Pitter, patter,” he drones. “Pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

--

Your fingers are wilted stems in his grasp, and your pulse is sluggish, off-beat.

He brings them to his lips, keeping them there, pinky brushing his chin. The metal armrests are cold against his elbows and the room smells like mint. There’s a knock that takes his focus away from you. He’ll shoot the next person that tells him he needs to rest, he decides.

But it is only the rain, hitting the window pane one at a time, then coming to a downpour. Sukuna blows air out through his nose, shutting his eyes as he takes your hand with both hands and props his forehead against them. He brushes the singed mark of your left palm.

“Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam,” he hums, not bothering with the words, the sound a low thunder from him. “Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

The rain does not stop. “Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

He repeats the tune, whistling this time. It echoes through the hallway.

Sukuna lifts his head, the song refusing to die in his lips, and when he does, he finds you staring right back at him. The tune crashes like a ship.

Your eyes are open, and he does not recall them being this bright, like you’d just woken up from a long and hazy dream.

“Can you speak?” he drawls.

You can. He knows you can.

But you do not.

“Speak,” he repeats.

You take your fingers from his hand and brings them to his cheek, wiping it. He doesn’t let go— refuses to let go, feeling your pulse.

It peters out, slowly.

Acid perforates his muscles, spreading from the tips of his fingers to his chest, climbing up the veins and filling them with magma, burning him from the inside, until he's all spittle and heat—

“Speak—" His voices shakes the walls. "Speak, damn you!”

You keep your eyes open, as impenetrable as they’ve always been, and for a moment there, right before they close again, the corner of your mouth lifts— a smirk— like it’s you who’s sitting on this chair, and it is him that lies there on the bed, breathing his last.

--

Your laureled horse jumps atop his incense chariot. It is promptly removed from his side and kept in yours. Sukuna tempers the urge to fling the board across the mat. Uraume sits outside, waiting.

“I’m going to die soon,” he says unprovoked, legs crossed, before moving his gold general away.

You freeze, then you slide your silver general beside your foot soldier. “I see.”

“Not gonna cry?” he simpers.

“Not in front of you, my lord.”

His incense chariot lances for your silver general. Your gold general captures it.

Cherry blossoms peer through the shoji. It was you that had drawn them open earlier, as was your habit before setting the board. ‘Flushed and efflorescent,’ you’d whispered as their petals landed softly on the grass.

He raises all of his fingers. “Keep my soul here, die for a while, then—” He grins, “live forever.”

You do not move, legs folded primly beneath you, staring at Sukuna.

“You’re a monster,” you utter.

That makes him laugh. He grabs your neck. A foot soldier stumbles off your fingers, and you swiftly place it back on the board. With it, you’ve captured his gold general.

Sukuna drags the blunt end of his nail over your throat, but stops when he remembers that the game isn’t over yet. He can do that after he’s finally won over you. He lets you go wheezing lightly.

“And yet you love me.” He pounces your foot soldier with his.

Your silver general infiltrates his territory, turning it to gold. “I do.”

“You’re a fool,” he scoffs.

“I know, my lord.”

Your tears fall on the board. Sukuna looks up, but you wipe them before he could see them on your face.

 A fool. A weak, powerless, dispensable fool.

Like picking at a scab, “Why?” he asks.

“I hardly know, my lord.”

“You can be my mistress,” he says noncommittally. “I could use one more to warm my bed.”

He picks at the silver general in his midst, taking another foot soldier with him. He could force you down now. Sukuna had even thought about it in passing before. Although, with Sukuna having yet to win a single board against you, he had not seen the pleasure in it.

This is the only battle he has yet to win.

And the one that only you can.

“Then, if I do, would you cry for me, my lord? Afterwards, would you stay by my bed when I am weak?”

“You must have taken a blow to the head, fool,” he chuckles. “Proclaim me dead and lost if I’ve come to that disgrace.”

With your western region barren, he easily devours through generals, incense chariots, and a laureled horse. You meet him piece by piece, but he has, at last, cornered you at your most vulnerable. His jade general conquers your invading gold generals.

Victory is close and you say nothing more, apart from a song.

“Rush, rush, rivers oceans,” you hum like a wind chime, putting a foot soldier forward in your eastern region that he is now making a wasteland of. “Rush into a steam.”

He smirks. “A child’s curse.”

“Whish, whoosh,” you continue, nodding with a timid smile as you discard his laureled horse. “Whish, woosh, go and form daydreams.”

It is hardly a revelation to Sukuna that you hold these infantile beliefs. Brats— bunch of human waste, are wont to sing this tune, convinced that if they do, then time, like water, would return anew— different and yet the same, so that they can keep  playing without having to hear their mothers’ reprimands.

Water to steam to clouds to rain. Then back again. Over and over, making a game of time.

“Pitter, patter, pitter, patter—” That foot soldier crosses the border. You turn it over and it transforms into a gold general. No matter. One more loss and it would be your only piece. “Please fall back to me.”

He makes quick work of the last laureled horse on your side. Your jade general sits, untouched, farther behind it.

“What’s this?” Sukuna holds out a hand to brush your cheek. “Are you cursing me so that we can keep playing?”

The suggestion cannot be lost on you. Sukuna makes sure of that. He drops his fingers to the bare skin above where your robe meets together.

You nod, humming again. “Yes, my lord.”

Your gold general moves forward to his eastern region.

“But, my lord, my curse is much simpler.”

Sukuna glances back to the board.

And there it is— that gold general, once a foot soldier, with a wordless sort of aplomb, capturing his jade general—

His king.

"I only wish to see you lose," you tell him, levelling at Sukuna with your gaze. "Even for one last time.”

[spideyhexx]

in the jailhouse now - billy bonney

Saccharine!Billy Bonney x Female!Reader

mdni!!! wc; 3k cw; guns, blood, grinding, exhibitionism-ish

saccharine masterlist (this can be read standalone!)

a/n; this was long overdo from kinktober!!! Very happy you guys can have this now :)))))))) um. enjoy >:)

If you could punch Billy in the face right now you would. But you can’t. Why? Cause he’s in fucking jail. Again. Granted, it was not his fault but also maybe it was his fault for sneaking into Lincoln and trusting a new player in the game.

Maybe if he told you, but he didn’t. 

He never mentioned he was leaving to meet with him and Governor Wallace. He’s been telling you most things lately so why the fuck didn’t he tell you this?

Your emotions are all over. Fuck him. But also fuck, he’s in jail and they’re saying he’ll have a trial, but by god, everyone saw him shoot Sheriff Brady among all the other crimes he's committed since. He’ll hang in no time and you cannot bear that thought. 

Charlie tried to calm you down. Everyone did, but you were close to pulling out your own goddamn hair. This might’ve been the stupidest thing Billy has ever done and he was going to meet your wrath before they could wrap that noose around his neck.

You’ll be his demise, not a rope. 

When those thoughts settle, tears prick your eyes and you’re barking orders to the rest of the regulators about a jail escape. None of the men showed an ounce of hesitation. Billy’s laid his life on the line for everyone here, so they’d do the same for him. Even when he made an idiotic choice. You make sure to throw that in there when you speak. Multiple times. 

Billy’s lucky because he has to sit in jail only one night before the plan is enacted. There was a benefit to the way you dressed and how you kept your hair tucked beneath your hat. When you wore a dress and wore your hair like a proper lady, you became almost unrecognizable. 

And thanks to Billy’s smothering over you, not letting you be directly involved with his little missions (p.s. fuck you for that Billy) and Pat’s disinterest in you since like, forever, it was easy to play the role of Billy’s lover. A sweet woman who just wants to see her love before he’s sent to death. 

When you are dolled up, Manuela smoothing down the skirt of the dress and then fixing the hat atop your head, your body is stiff and awkward, she pokes your side, “you need to act like you wear this everyday.”

You resist an eyeroll. You’re sure this will work. Almost positive, but there’s always the slight chance Pat looks too long. Recognizes you. The fact you cannot remember the last time you’ve been that close to Pat gives you some semblance of optimism. Manuela even adds the smallest bit of rouge to your cheeks, indicating it does wonders. 

You ignore the teasing glances from the regulators when you all congregate to go over the plan. It doesn’t matter what they say. What they think. What you feel in this getup because the only thing that matters is getting Billy, and everyone else, out alive. And it all hinders on you. For the most part. It was your plan. If it fails, there’s nobody to blame but yourself and you’ll hope to God that you don’t survive to hear Billy chastise you for it. Or maybe you’d like to hear the timbre of his voice slightly angry, slightly amused. And his intense eyes glimmering, staring right into your soul in-

Deep breaths. 

You separate from the rest. Time is of the essence. The sun has fallen out of the sky and the dark of the night wisps at your cheeks as you make the walk to the sheriff’s office. You go over in your head what you’ve prepared to say, your heart beating incessantly. Soon enough you’ll (hopefully) be able to see your Billy and smack him.

A man, one of Garret’s deputies, stands up from his chair on the porch as you approach. He holds his hand out as if to ask you to stop. Lets you state your business. 

The man studies you for a quick few seconds, then opens the door, peeking his head inside, “Sheriff, a lady is here to talk to you,” he says and you can vaguely hear Pat mumble something. 

You steel yourself, thinking about Billy’s typical words of encouragement to the gang. To you. 

Steady on. You’re better than you think. Now get the fuck outta my face. That last part being just for you and no one else.

The smile that spreads on your face at the sight of Garret is tight and polite. The kind you would see women give men in passing. An ounce of kindness. A way to say, I am not an outlaw but a humble woman. It feels ridiculous. 

“Ma’am. To what do I owe this visit?” He asks and your chest soars. A win. He doesn’t recognize you. 

“Well, first I oughta say, I think…I think the way you’ve been handlin’ the…war in this town is quite…well. Bad,” you say, easing your voice into a soft one that’s reserved only for times like these. 

It strikes a nerve with Pat, but the man is good at keeping himself in check. He gives a nod and sighs, “We’re all doing are best, ma’am.”

“Mm,” you wring your gloved hands together then say, “Supposedly, I need your permission to enter the jail and visit a prisoner here.” 

His brow raises, then he glances to his deputy. Pat tilts his head at you, “Are you talking ‘bout Billy the Kid?”

You nod, “I am, sir.”

“Knew he’d have a sweetheart,” Pat chuckles, shaking his head and rubbing a hand pensively over his face, “I see no harm. Unfortunately, I will need to check if you’re not taking anything to him that…might be useful.”

Charlie mentioned Pat might want to check you so this doesn’t come as a surprise. Nonetheless, it still makes your blood boil and your nerves tick. 

Pat stands up, rounding off to the front of his desk, “Do I have your permission?” His eyes are light. Amused, almost. Like he expects you to fold. Or to definitely have something on you. He would not be wrong about the second thing, but you’re too good to let his have the satisfaction. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. Steady on.

Once you nod, Pat gestures for you to hold your arms out. He pats them down first, a thorough check that you block out. When he gets to your middle, you even out your breaths to keep them as calm as possible. Pat leans down to pat down your legs over the thick dress, and you take the moment of not having his gaze on you to roll your eyes. However as his hands raise higher, he hesitates. 

He clears his throat, then stands up, “Okay. You can go.”

Thank fuck! You give that sweet-fake smile to him and follow after the deputy. The pounding in your chest tightens and you squeeze your hands together to ease the shakiness which is a mixture of the cold and excitement to see Billy. Would he look bad? Probably not. You’ve seen him downright filthy and still look good. A treachery upon life, he is. 

Would he be mad? Surely. That’s the good part. 

The door opens to the jailhouse and you step inside, first making eye contact with the jailer, then to your Billy, sitting on the bench in the cell. 

He stands immediately, his mouth parting and uttering your name. Not cowgirl. Not some other miscellaneous nickname him or one of the regulators has given you over the months, years you’ve been around them. He says your fucking name. 

“Hello, Billy,” you respond, as calm as you can, though every inch of your body is on fire. The prickling starts in your fingertips and your toes and at the bottom of your spine, circulating to every other nook and cranny within you. 

“You got two minutes,” the jailer says as he pushes the key into the lock and turns it, opening the cell door for you. 

Billy’s furrowed brow and parted mouth are almost frozen in time, but your feet are moving. 

“What are you-”

Your lips lock onto his, your hands finding his face, pushing yourself up to meet him with more force. He moves his face to the side for only a second before you’re on his mouth again. With how he doesn’t kiss back, it makes you want to scream. It takes one nip at his bottom lip for something to snap into him and Billy’s holding to your waist, kissing you with so much need that it breaks your heart. 

You’re not sure if you’re leaning into him too much or if he’s walking backwards on his own accord, but your heart leaps when he sits back on the bench, your mouth never leaving his as you straddle his lap. 

You break the kiss to study his face. No cuts. No bruises. Your thumb swipes at his cheekbone in a soothing gesture, a silent, I’m rescuing you now.

His eyes, full of unadulterated feeling, break from you to look towards the jailer. You turn too, and the jailer shakes his head in an amused chuckle, “oh,” he says, setting the keys down on his desk and turning away so as to not watch the two of you. 

When you find his eyes once more, Billy’s mouth breaks into an easy smile. The easiest smile you think you’ve ever seen from him and in immediate response, you rock your hips down on him. 

Billy captures your mouth with his to hide his moan, his hand snaking to your lower back. It’s big, pressing you forward, chest to chest with him. His kiss is all desperation. Lips catching yours whenever you almost miss his. Tongue licking out to caress your lips or feel your tongue for himself. Teeth making a home in the skin of your lip before departing. Quick. Incessant. Fucking needy, is your Billy. 

He’s hard under you, pushing you down against him enough that you feel right where you need it. It almost makes you forget your mission. Almost. Hell, what if you abandon the plan right now and ride his dick for one last hoorah before you’re both whisked away from one another? Or you refuse to leave and become tragic lovers in a cell, set to hang together while holding hands?

Billy must sense your pondering because he’s whispering ever so softly, “you’re crazy.”

“You, my dear cowboy, are an idiot,” you mumble, before kissing him with so much force his head knocks against the wooded wall and he pushes his hips up like it’s pure instinct. What you would give to feel the full effect of it. The jailer being in the room does nothing to stop the heat in your belly. If anything, you feel a sense to prove your devotion. You feel the result of that devotion poking up at you.

Deep breaths.

You take his wrist, moving his hand to your knee and Billy smiles into the kiss. You’re going to make fun of him for this later. For how quick he got hard. For how happy he seems to take you right here in this cell with the jailer no doubt sneaking glances. 

You slide his hand up your thigh until it reaches its destination. The kiss breaks, but your noses stay together. It's impossible to be further from one another. 

His brow knits and slowly, he pulls out the gun from under your dress, holding it between the two of you. 

The look he gives, you can’t decipher at first. His jaw tightens and his eyes are boring into your soul in that excruciating way he does, when you know he’s thinking. Billy’s mind is working over every little thing he ever knows about you. All you get is the faintest shake of his head and he’s surging forward to kiss you again.

This one feels different. The need is still there. Palpable. Hard and pulsing under you. But this kiss overwhelms you. It gives you relief. Whispers it into your mouth so your ears can know it. The warmth you feel is not something solely for you, but for him too. 

“Be ready,” you tell him, taking every inch of energy left in your body to pull yourself away from him. “Jailer, I’m ready to leave.”

Billy stays seated, leaning his forearms on his legs, either to get ready or to hide his erection. You bite your cheek to not snort out a laugh. 

“True love, huh?” The jailer smirks at you and you step out of the cell, watching him lock Billy right up just as the guards outside can be heard speaking in distress. 

The jailer looks towards the door, pulling the key out of the lock and the moment the noise outside ramps up, you’re pulling the gun, shooting at the man. It’s a rush of adrenaline so quick, you’re not sure where you shot, but your fingers are finding the keys and unlocking Billy. 

He smothers you in a hug, his hand holding your head to his shoulder and he gives the top of your head a kiss, “‘M so happy to see you, cowgirl,” he mutters into your hair, his breath invigorating as much life into you as he can give. 

Billy leans down and grabs the jailer’s gun, his body never straying far from you, like he’s refusing to not be touching you. It sends you ablaze, explosions ricocheting outside. That’s the cue but you find yourself frozen, watching him cock the gun. 

“You in there?” 

His voice. That low timbre is not full of any anger like you may have expected. Selfishly wanted. He knocks his knuckles to your head and gives your collar a tug, “I ain’t never seein’ you in that again,” he says, taking a purposeful look over your body and you take that moment to snap out of your thoughts, striking your hand on his shoulder. 

Billy’s expecting it. He laughs, then catches your arm, pulling you right up against him, “later, okay? Later you can do that all you want,” he murmurs, nose nudging to yours. Is he trying to soothe you? Amuse you? Anger you more?

“Bonney-”

“Stay right behind me, ‘kay?” Billy turns to the door but you keep a firm grip on the sleeve of his coat to pull him back.

“Bonney.”

He stops, giving you a pointed look. Smackable face. Kissable lips. Lovable for eternity eyes. You realize you’re not sure why you have stopped him. The words are on the tip of your tongue. Something unheard of in your vocabulary. Something you can only remember saying jokingly, but as it tastes itself on your taste buds, you know it isn’t a joke. It’s real. The feeling is real and it’s right there and-

“You’re very hard.” Your voice cracks on the last word and your resolve almost spirals. He knows it. You’re sure he knows it. Do you mean his erection or something else? There’s a passing sense of recognition floating into his eyes before it disperses from him the way it did you.

Billy’s lips do their little side quirk and he shakes his head, “Yes. Stay behind me?”

You nod. 

The adrenaline you felt before is no match for what’s waiting for you outside. Guns firing. Flames blocking your view. Screaming and yelling men, both yours and ones against you, it’s difficult to tell who is who. You know Billy’s though. His voice is always distinct, always pulling you to him. His eyes glance to you after every shot he takes. You hold your own, shooting when Billy is occupied, staying close enough to him to feel the weight of each of his actions. 

It’s a flurry. A blur, almost. Pushing through the snow in your (annoying) dress to get to the horses. You hear Billy yell, “Over here! Over here!”

You laugh in both exasperation and relief as you hear the hooves of the horses and catch a glimpse of Charlie and the others. 

“Boy, am I happy to see you,” Billy says to him, laughing himself. A sound you’d like to burrow your head into. You’ve saved your Billy. His words of later echo in your mind and the heart in your chest spikes its beating. Your blood is pumping, dancing at the chance that yes, you’ve fucking done it. With no hesitation, he grabs your waist to help hoist you up to the horse. Billy gets up on the same one without a thought. 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Billy says, right at your ear as your horse gallops off into the trees. 

Every part of your body is buzzing. Is it the fact Billy’s right up against you from behind? Or the fact you’ve managed to narrowly escape from a jailbreak? Both, you reckon. 

An overwhelming urge overtakes you. It tells you to sink back into Billy. It tells you to loosen your grip on the saddle, only to feel Billy’s arm hold you in a more secure manner. Yes, we're safe, you think. I've done what I needed to. You feel the tip of his nose edge down on your skin as he looks at you, a slight mutter of your name, but it’s a question. 

Your head swims. Your fingers go numb under the warm gloves. Your breath labors and your eyes barely catch the sight of Billy pulling his hand up and seeing the red coating his fingertips. 

“Fuck! Charlie!”  You hear him curse out, but he sounds distant. There’s a distaste for that in your mind, and you sink back further into him, suddenly frightened at the idea of being so far from him. Limbs are feeling useless but needy for Billy and he holds onto you even tighter, a warm sting of something hitting your neck. Tears? Can’t be. 

“Fuck, you’ll be fine, cowgirl, okay? Just…no,” he almost yells as your eyes droop, “Don’t close your eyes, you’ll be fine, it’s not so bad, I promise, fuck,” his breath hits in quick pants your ear and his hand presses to the sensitive spot on your side. 

Your Billy is holding you. And Your Billy whispers, “I love you,” before your vision goes out.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 15: Jeannie

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Chapter summary: Past. Jean's POV Present. Jean is over them all.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING: Male manipulator incel Logan

2k words

His mind was somewhere else.

“Scott, baby.” Jean tried to get him to come back to her. Lingerie, hair done up, waiting for Scott on her knees in the bedroom… and it worked. At least for a little bit.

But even as she ground herself over his growing bulge, she could tell he was somewhere else in his head. His cock stiffened and softened at the same time as he’d begin looking over her shoulder or his mouth stopped moving and she’d have to call him back to reality. 

It was her fault. No, Jean, not her fault. Jean had to remind herself that just because Logan and Scott were playing out their latest pissing match with you instead of her this time, it wasn’t your fault. You were just a girl that needed help. Logan and you seemed happy, whatever the state of your relationship was… but she couldn’t help missing that attention Logan gave. Logan was a single focus man, and when that focus was on you, it was all consuming.

 Before you entered the picture, even then Scott could be distant. That wasn’t his fault either, she tried to remind herself. He had OCD and worries left him spiraling. It wouldn’t be so bad if he just let her help him. She just wanted to help him. Instead, he internalized it, isolated himself and disappeared sometimes, leaving Jean worried and only knowing he hasn’t hurt himself from their telepathic connection.

She tries, she really tried to be empathetic to him and to you.

But when her husband can’t even get hard because his thoughts are with someone else, it’s kind of hard to not be angry.

Still, Jean was nothing if not able to tamper down that dark side, the anger that she felt simmering just below the surface. Usually, she could channel it into something good, something productive… but Jean didn’t want to be good.

She sighed, signalling her giving up with a drop of her head that encased Scott in red. “Get some rest, Scott. I think you need sleep.” He doesn’t sleep much these days, nor eat. His already slim figure is looking underweight with his cheekbones gaunt and the darkness peaking out under her visor. He’s not himself, and she doesn’t know what to do.

He reaches over to cup her face. “Sorry baby…” And he does look apologetic, despite the exhaustion in his voice. He carried to much on his shoulders, but it’s not like she hasn’t tried to lighten the load. “You look really fucking hot, I just…” Scott didn’t like talking about his mental issues, which was a major chunk of the problem. Until he lets her in, there’d always be a gap between them. A gap she used to fill with Logan, but now is just a hollow point inside her; an emptiness threatening to swollow her whole and break them apart. She loved Scott, but loving him meant always feeling a little alone, even on the good days. 

“Rest.” Jean smiled softly. “I’ll stay here with you.” A lie, but if Scott caught on, she didn’t say. When he was asleep, she snuck out to find Logan.

*

How did she sink so low she was begging to get fucked? She just wanted someone to love her, to pay attention, she felt like she was drowning and needed to not feel so alone. Why wouldn’t Logan give it to her? Why couldn’t Scott? What had changed that she was no longer worthy of being loved?

Logan was good at that, at making her feel loved and desired when he wanted to. When he didn’t want to, he could pull it away just as quickly. It was embarrassing; humiliating even though the only person who knew was him. No one else could tell how subtly he wormed his way into her head, they all thought she had the control. She did, for a while anyway. Being chased, being hunted and stalked like prey was enticing especially on days Scott wouldn’t even look at her.

However once Logan knew the power he had, once her built her up himself he had control over her self esteem. And he knew how to wield that. She was a fool to offer it up to him again willingly, but here she was.

“He doesn’t pay attention to me.” The embarrassing admittance that she wasn’t enough for her own husband, but she laid herself bare to Logan in a way she couldn’t with Scott, not with his barriers.

“And you think I will?”

“You always did before.” She didn’t care if he was dangerous, a little unhinged. She just needed to feel.

“That was before her.”

Before her. Before his little child bride.

 Logically, she knew better than to be mad at a 24 year old for catching Logan’s eye. She couldn’t even blame Logan; she liked you. You were kind, that's what everyone said about you (either before or after calling you weird, generally), but you were also a very capable teacher, taking on several grades, sometimes at once, and giving your all. You’d made an impact on many students, and you were incredibly smart; your brain had been wasted on the abusive prick you’d killed. 

Jean knew she should be better than this, more evolved, beyond the mean girl nature of how she was acting but she was so desperate to fill that gap caving inside her she let the cruelty slide out more when he finally fucked her.

“Does your baby doll do it like this?”

A mistake, she knew. His fist tightened around her neck, and her nervous system kicked in. Logan was a dangerous man to play around with. Still, he wouldn’t hurt her. Not really, right? Just fuck with her mind again and again until she lost all sense of herself.

“No, but my baby doll can give me what you can’t.”

She had to laugh at that, the idea of Logan wanting to settle down. “What, you want to settle down, have a family, live a normal life?” 

“So what if I do, Jeannie?”

A blink. A breath. She knew what she was offering was a risk, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. Whatever it took to be loved. She disappointed her parents at an early age, never hearing from them again. She always felt she scared Charles, her darkness too great. Erik disapproved of her hiding that darkness. She wasn’t enough to fix Scott, to make him let her in, to truly be one.

She could be enough for Logan. If a family is what he wanted.

 “I can be that.”

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna abandon everything here? The students? Charles?”

She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a family Logan.”

For a moment, his grip grew deathly tight but he threw her to the ground before she could comprehend what he had been about to do.

They went back and forth, Jean feeling vulnerable and like Logan was prying down her defenses until it slipped out. Until she admitted he had gotten her pregnant.

Her choice had been easy. With telepathy, she knew early, very early, and she knew she couldn’t have a kid with Logan. She didn’t want a baby with Logan, or a baby at all.

Logan, at that point, would have been a bad dad, and she didn’t think he would have wanted to be one anyway. 

It would have broken Scott, broken him even worse when the affair got outed. Broken him enough that he might not have survived that blow.

But here she was, telling Logan he could knock her up, just for him to feel like er loved her again.

After

“She seems happy.” Jean commented, nodding to where Wade and you were giggling at the table. She was glad you had more friends now, not just Remy. It seems Remy never told Logan he was the one who outed their affair to Scott, otherwise Jean doubted Logan would hang around him as much as they do, even if his girl is his friend.

He beamed, looking at you. “Yeah, she’s do’n real well. Much better, I think.”

Swallowing some of her pride and jealous, Jean tried to do better, to be better. “It’s nice to see you happy too, Logan” She was sincere, but Logan seemed to try and brush it off. “I mean it. I’ve never seen you so pussy whipped.” It was meant as a joke, but the way Logan whipped his head back to her made Jean startle. She’d been more nervous around him lately; after the incident in the closet anyway. 

“The fuck you mean?” He was angry, and she didn’t know why. It was always like this with Logan; the mood swings she couldn’t predict, the sudden withdrawal of affection that left her clamoring. They were having a nice chat, now he was mad. 

She tried to remain firm and calm, not wanting to rile him up more. It was a nice party, she didn’t want to ruin it. “I just mean- Logan it’s a good thing. I mean you’ll do anything for her. She’d do anything for you, by the way.”

“She better. She’s my fucking wife.”

“Logan.”

“You know why I chose her, Jeannie? Because she don’t fuck’n sass off like you. Knows her place. Knows when to keep her mouth shut.”

“Or her mouth open, I assume.”

Logan looked like he wanted to slap her, his knuckles whitening where he gripped the counter.

Still, he tried to goed her on. “Yeah, because she’s a good girl, likes to please me. You wouldn’t know anything about that.” Jean opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. “Maybe you just need God too and you wouldn’t have to cry for the attention your husband won’t give you.”

He was trying to get under her skin, so she tried to let it roll off. “Using her trauma to keep her submissive isn’t the flex you think it is, Logan. Now I know why you chose her. Lot easier to get a girl to stay with you when you knock her up if she won’t have an abortion.”

You were playing with fire here.

“Shut up.”

Jean glared at him, taken aback by his sudden change, but growing tired of his childish behavior. She leaned in, whispering to keep nice for the party and for you. “You tell me to shut up again and will tell your little dolly that you fucked me while you were ‘taking it slow’ with her.”

Logan glared right back. “Yeah, and risk Scott finding out?”

“I am done wasting my time on either of you. Get fucked, Logan.”

Resisting the urge to throw her drink in his face, Jean walked off as she heard Wade squeal and wrap you into a big hug. Logan would be too busy handling that to follow her.

She was going to fucking be free of him. One way or another. 

He could tell Wade and Kurt whatever he wanted. He could tell them she was cruel, indecisive, played with him; all of it was true to some extent.

But that was the game he laid out for her. He set up the chess board and got mad when she took his queen. He taught her the rules and when backed into check, he broke them. And when she got checkmate, he ran away and cried crazy ex to his friends.

Wade wasn’t a fan of Jean, she knew that. That’s fine, he was too crass and loud for her taste.

Kurt was too nice to treat her with anything but kindness, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk to her like before. People had chosen their sides, and that was fine. But it was sick the way that Logan created a standard in their relationship of playing mind games, only to move the goalpost when she had the upper hand.

She was done with his incel ass. She was done with trying to get Scott to care about her above anyone else. She was done trying to prove herself constantly to get nothing back. 

Jean was done.

Thank you so much for reading! i had a breakthrough on my writers block for the end FINALLY!!!! Ah, the magic of boiling pasta at the OG <3

anyway I also had an idea for a married logan x reader series dealing with cheating but lemme finish this and IIBH first XD

SO JEAN!!!!! what do we think?

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

pls, kind sir (gn), tell me all about your "peru leave au" 👀👀👀

Okay, so the timeline is fucked here because Tommy would've been in his early 30s and already in LA when Buck is in Peru. Instead, he's a little younger (29? 28?), joined the Army after college because it was that or he had to live with his dad again and that wasn't an option. Since he doesn't have a lot back home to visit while he's on leave, he goes on a trip with a few of the guys he's serving with, because one of them has family in Peru. Trying to figure the timeline has been a mess (DADT hasn't been repealed so it's 2010 but Buck would've been like 19 then instead but he's 21 here), I got distracted by other stuff, I have no idea when to reunite them, etc. But it'll get finished eventually I hope, because the whole idea is based around me wanting bb Tommy to fall for bb Buck and I'd rewatched Romancing the Stone with my sister right before I started this. I posted a snippet here from when they meet but here's a bit from when they have to say goodbye:

They crawl into bed together, and they look at each other and kiss and Evan tells him about the places he wishes he’d had time to take Tommy to, and Tommy tells him it’s okay, that he would’ve been happy if he’d never left their room.

“‘Our’ room?” Evan teases, but Tommy can see his smile in the dark.

“You know what I mean,” Tommy says lamely.

Evan kisses him again, his lips slack. It’s perfect.

“I don’t want to leave,” Tommy confesses.

“This isn’t it,” Evan says, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles under Tommy’s ear, the rest of his fingers curled around the side of his neck. “I’m not a romantic like you–”

“That’s a lie.”

“—but this feels like it has to be more than just one week, right?” Evan says, and Tommy hesitates before nodding. “So no matter what, the universe will get it right, even if we fuck it up somehow.”

Tommy almost says it, he can feel it like they’re physically in his throat trying to get out.

“I fell for you too hard for it to just be one week,” Evan says, and Tommy closes to scant space between them to kiss him, his eyes stinging.

When he pulls back, he takes Evan’s hand and presses it against his heart, and Evan nods. He knows, he knows.

Tommy doesn’t remember falling asleep.

–

Evan is sleeping when he gets up, but he wakes up just as Tommy is pulling on his clothes. He smiles at Tommy before shooting to his feet.

“Oh, no,” he says, a mournful, puppy-eyed sadness overtaking his beautiful face.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, his voice barely above a whisper. He has a lump in his throat, and his chest hurts, and his stomach is tying itself in knots.

“Wait,” Evan says, wiping a hand over one of his eyes. “Hold on.”

He digs through the top drawer of his dresser, which is half socks and underwear and half odds and ends. He doesn’t have any real storage in the small room. When he grabs a pen and a postcard, he writes down a Peruvian phone number and presses it to Tommy’s chest.

“I don’t know if I’ll have service for a while,” Tommy warns him.

“I don’t care,” Evan says, shaking his head. “Just–I know. I know that there’s so much about this that freaks you out, and it freaks me out, too. But I can’t ignore this, and I don’t think you can either.”

Tommy can’t answer without crying, so he just shakes his head. He takes the postcard and lifts Evan’s hand to his lips and kisses each of his knuckles carefully. When he’s done, he pulls Evan into his arms and kisses him. It feels like the kind of kiss that you see just before the credits roll or just before the screen cuts out and comes back to a wedding or some other kind of happily ever after. The only difference is that he can taste salt on Evan’s lips, and he feels like his chest has been blown open with a grenade.

[silentsneezes]

in regards to your essential oils post: i am absolutely interested and i think i can safely say others would be too 👀 if you want to write if you definitely should

i hope this is worth the wait anon! here's 1.7k of j/ayce being helplessly allergic to essential oils

cw for talk about chronic illness/disability and mess! it's mostly just spray, but after the line "There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps" there are some more descriptions of mess

On a good day, there’s little to nothing Viktor can’t manage with a cane and the occasional break to sit down. He’s proven most undercity doctors wrong just by living past 25, and yet both he and Jayce understand the importance of the Hex Core. It’s their biggest breakthrough yet, their closest glimpse of magic aside from Jayce’s rune bracelet. 

Still, it’s not enough. Viktor knows it’s not enough to rely on the half baked mystery of natural runes. So he does what he can. He drinks enough water, he attempts to sleep consistently, he’s even taken up stretching for God’s sake. You may be asking “why now?”, to which he would answer “Jayce.”

Jayce has done everything for him, would do anything for him. So even if Viktor gave up years ago, he refuses to sit back and allow Jayce to watch him bide his time. He’s trying, damnit. 

Today, that effort entails using a new combination of essential oils Jayce purchased— a tasteful mix of eucalyptus, rosemary, and chamomile. Viktor has always denied such simple pain relief techniques, finding it to be more bothersome than it is effective. Except Jayce is nothing if not persuasive and he insists on indulging in buying expensive oils and herbs for his partner– it doesn’t help that Viktor is head over heels in love with him. 

Viktor doesn’t even want to know how much this new batch must’ve cost, but he will admit it seems promising as Jayce begins massaging it over his back. Viktor is laid face down on the cot in the lab, his arms pinned by his sides as Jayce straddles him from behind. Jayce is careful not to put any unwanted weight on Viktor’s hips or bad leg, propping himself up on the edges of the cot cautiously. His legs are bent at the knees, forcing him to rest his ass against Viktor’s– the first few times he’d massaged Viktor, Jayce asked for reassurance that he wasn’t too heavy or causing any pain every few minutes, but by now he’s figured out which position works best. 

Jayce’s hands work over Viktor’s upper shoulders, his thumbs rubbing little circles over the especially tense knots. Viktor emits quiet noises of pleasure as Jayce kneads his fingers into the sore sections of his back, taut and misshapen due to his brace. His spine bends awkwardly at the center, having contorted into an abrasive arch over the years. Still, he looks perfect in Jayce’s eyes. Every notch of his spine, pressing against his skin and accentuating his thin frame. Every mole and freckle gone unnoticed by his previous lovers. Every scar left along his back from the metal brackets of the brace chafing or cutting his porcelain skin. It’s all beautiful. 

Occasionally, Jayce will lean forwards and press a kiss to Viktor’s back, intermixing the massage with a gentle affection. As he does so, Jayce feels a buzzing sensation begin to work its way from the back of his sinuses up to the tip of his nose. He raises a hand, rubbing the bothersome appendage against its backside. Unfortunately, he gets a whiff of the strongly scented oils coating his palms. Fuck. 

Jayce’s breath catches in his throat, a vocal hitch forcing its way out, “hhHH-” Jayce places one hand on the small of Viktor’s back, steading himself so he doesn’t jostle Viktor at all. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor murmurs at the touch, half asleep under Jayce– it isn’t uncommon for him to fall asleep when Jayce massages his back. Jayce nods wordlessly before remembering Viktor can’t see him, “Yeah, f-hhih-fine…”

Jayce’s hands continue working over Viktor’s shoulders, but his mind remains distracted by that tantalizing itch dancing through his nose. It forces his nostrils to flare every so often, his eyes beginning to water with every hitch that catches in his chest. Viktor can feel every minuscule movement Jayce makes, suddenly feeling wide awake as he registers the little hitches. 

Unfortunately for Jayce, the buzzing worsens, and those “little hitches” are quick to turn into full on gasps, “hhHH-uh… hhheh-hhHHngh… hh’uUHH’ hHHHHRSCHHHEw!” 

Jayce barely turns his head to the side in time, the spray of the expulsion narrowly missing Viktor’s exposed back. His body shudders over Viktor’s, his thighs tightening their hold around his partner ever so slightly. 

“Bless you,” Viktor murmurs, feeling his abdomen fill with a swirling heat. Jayce rubs his nose against his shoulder, wrinkling the appendage and sniffling, desperate to subdue the continuous itch, “Shhsorry- did I get you?”

“No,” Viktor answers simply, humming as Jayce’s big hands begin their work again. Viktor waits, listening with rapt attention to every little shift in Jayce’s breathing, hoping the sneeze wasn’t just a single expulsion. 

A minute later, Jayce stupidly leans down to press a light kiss to the mole on Viktor’s upper left shoulder out of habit. As soon as his nose nears Viktor’s oil-covered back, it twitches. He takes in a desperate, “hhHHH-” before snapping forward with no other warning, “hhHGSSXCHHHew!ugh…” Jayce’s head is forced down as he convulses with the expulsion, his nose briefly pressing against Viktor’s shoulder. 

Viktor shivers as he feels the spray cast upon his bare skin, intermixing with the dampness of the oils. He swallows a moan as Jayce’s nose makes contact with his back, only heightening his arousal. He can feel Jayce’s weight shift, a bit more pressure being applied to his ass as Jayce is forced to change positions. 

Jayce’s eyes widen as he realizes the sheen of spray left on Viktor’s skin, blushing crimson and stuttering to apologize as his breath hitches again, “oh god VhhhViktor I’m s-hhH-so hhuHH- so sorrhhhHRRSXCHHh’uh!” 

Never has Jayce been hit by an allergen so intensely, having thought he had no allergies until this very moment. But the itch ravaging his nose is evidence enough to prove him wrong, causing him to hitch and whine. He can’t even raise his hands to cover or attend to the twitching appendage, knowing they’re both coated with the essential oils. 

“hhHhhngh- ehhhhHh- huh’hhHHEH-“ Jayce builds up to yet another sneeze, his hands now holding Viktor’s waist tightly in an attempt to keep some semblance of control, “hhHZZSXCHHuh’hh!”

The sneeze mists Viktor’s skin again, causing arousal to thrum throughout his body. It doesn’t help that he can feel Jayce’s hips buck against his ass with every expulsion. He muffles a moan into the cot’s surface, his body alight with desire. 

Jayce buries his nose against his own shoulder, berating the appendage as best he can without the use of his hands, “hhhuhh-ngh’uh,” Jayce’s breathless hitches are audible despite his efforts to suppress them. 

‘Foolish’ Viktor thinks upon hearing Jayce’s attempts at suppressing the build up. Viktor of all people knows just how loud Jayce’s hitching can get, having toyed with inducing his partner on many occasions. 

“hhHihH- Vik I’mhhh-I’m ghhehHgoing to sn-hhhHPDTSCHhew!” Jayce once again mists Viktor’s skin, his hands holding onto Viktor’s waist in utter desperation as the sneeze tears through him. Jayce stays bent over, not bothering to straighten up as he feels his breath catch haphazardly again. 

There’s a few moments of silence, broken only by Jayce’s desperate gasps before, “hhHHGGDZSCHh’uhh!” Jayce freezes as he feels a string of mess trail down his upper lip. Before he can move to catch it, it falls onto the nape of Viktor’s neck, causing the pinned man to shudder. Viktor doesn’t bother muffling his moan this time, his imagination running wild at the sensation of the mess against his skin. 

Jayce is quick to clean it up, gently swiping his fingers over the wet splotch and cringing at the sensation of the snot against his skin. He wipes it on his pant leg, murmuring a stuttered, broken apology, “sorry, I thinkhhhI’m hhHHallerghhHiHH– HHRRXSCHHeWw’huh! snNDFF- allergic.” 

At this point, Jayce’s thighs are pressing tightly against Viktor’s hips in order to maintain his balance, his big hands cupping Viktor’s bare waist. With every expulsion, Viktor can feel Jayce’s fingers grip his sides as the sneezes rack his body. 

The fact that Viktor can’t even see Jayce just makes him all the more aroused. Of course he enjoys watching Jayce sneeze, finding his expressions utterly enrapturing, but being pinned face down is equally as exciting; it leaves some of the experience up to imagination, allowing Viktor to picture his partner’s appearance while feeling every movement atop him. 

It doesn’t take long for Jayce to recognize that he’s not going to stop sneezing, unable to do anything but blink away allergic tears as sneeze after sneeze tears through his strong frame. After a little, Viktor shifts, signaling for Jayce to move off of him. Obedient as ever, Jayce attempts to do so, nearly stumbling over as he dismounts his partner. 

Once he finds his footing, Jayce looks at Viktor in utter disarray. His eyes and nose are streaming, a sheen of mess trailing down his upper lip, his nostrils flaring, his eyebrows knit together in a constant pre-sneeze expression. He holds his hands out in front of him helplessly, unable to tend to his nose. 

Wordlessly, Viktor stands and pulls Jayce into a kiss, taking his partner by surprise. Jayce melts into the kiss once his initial shock at the affection dissipates, reminding himself that Viktor finds his disheveled mess of a state hot rather than disgusting. Jayce has one arm draped around Viktor’s waist in support, his other hand tangling itself in his partner’s hair. He finds himself momentarily relieved as his and Viktor’s tongues dance along with each other.

Unfortunately for Jayce, the itch’s temporary dormancy is over. He takes in a desperate, quick inhale, his lips still pressed to Viktor’s, “hhHH-” before shuddering with a wet sneeze, “HHGGSXCHHew!” Jayce blushes crimson as he feels the spray of the sneeze intermix with the kiss, but his embarrassment is forgotten as Viktor moans, deepening their embrace. 

By the time Jayce’s allergies finally die down, it’s safe to say Viktor’s pain has been tended to… though not how the couple had initially intended. 

“You know,” Viktor murmurs lazily as he sits beside Jayce on the cot, “I now see the value of those essential oils you insist on purchasing.” He grins coyly at Jayce, watching his cheeks flush in response to the slight taunt.

[theclowningbusiness]

Me-Wow!

Very short, literally just based off a silly goofy prompt. Not a super serious fic or something. Also I'm only on episode 4 don't judge me <33

I think this can be read as GN, but if I missed something, just lmk

Pairing: Roman Roy x Reader

Tropes: None?

Warnings: A single kiss

Other tags: Roman getting positive reinforcement <3

Background: You’re Roman Roy’s assistant… and girlfriend. You always struggle to get him to finish his work instead of getting distracted.

Description: When your boyfriend/boss, Roman, finishes replying to some emails that he’s been putting off, you give him a little reward. You hadn’t expected him to be so excited about it.

    “I’m done,” Roman announced, leaning back in his desk chair.

    “You replied to all the emails that I starred? Not just the ones you felt like?” You asked, unconvinced. You narrowed your eyes at him as you waited for his answer.

    “Yes,” Roman rolled his eyes, “All of them. You can check the folder.”

    You pushed your chair back from your smaller desk that sat to the side of his office (being in his office was the only way to make sure he stayed on task). You stood, bringing your folder with you as you walked over to Roman’s desk.

    Placing your folder down on his desk, you leaned over to look at his computer. He had been truthful, the starred folder was completely empty. Wanting to make sure he had actually sent emails, you checked the sent folder as well, and it confirmed his claim.

    “Shit,” you nodded in approval. “You actually did.”

    “Told you,” Roman shrugged, tilting his head as he looked at you.

    “See? Wasn’t it easier to just deal with them than to keep putting them off?” You asked, moving to sit sideways across his lap. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek once you were settled.

    Naturally, one of Roman’s arms wrapped around your lower back, while the other draped over your legs with his hand landing on your thigh.

    “You know, I never thought I’d ever get to give you this,” you started, leaning forward a little so you could reach the folder that sat on Roman’s desk.

    “I get a present for doing my work?” Roman asked, clearly pleased with the idea of it. “Fuck yeah.”

    “Since you got all the emails answered,” you confirmed, pulling something from your folder. As you got comfortable in his lap again, you lifted a hand and placed his reward on the chest area of his shirt. 

    Roman looked down at his chest, looking at what you had left and blinking a few times.

    “You’re giving me a sticker?” Roman deadpanned, lifting his head to look at you.

    “Not just any sticker,” you reasoned. “It’s got a kitten that says ‘me-wow!’ on it.”

    “I’m not a kindergartener,” he replied, narrowing his eyes slightly at you. “I don’t need a sticker.”

    “Fine, I’ll take it back then,” you shrugged, raising a hand as if you were going to peel the sticker off of his shirt.

    “No, it’s mine,” Roman smacked your hand away, “Fuck off.” He put his hand over the sticker to ensure that you weren’t going to take it.

    “But you aren’t a kindergartner,” you teased, poking his chest. “You don’t need stickers.”

    “It grew on me,” he argued, dropping his hand to once again rest on your leg.

    “I know the feeling of having something grow on you,” you smiled, gently grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

    “What? It wasn’t love at first sight?” He pouted dramatically, using his big puppy eyes to his advantage.

    “No, Rome, I thought you were a total prick,” you laughed softly. “But then you got all soft on me, and I just couldn’t say no.”

    “I’m only soft for you,” he replied, “I don’t enjoy stickers from just anyone.”

    “How sweet,” you replied, moving one hand to push a few stray hairs off his forehead.

    Your hand ran down the side of his face, eventually landing on his cheek. He leaned his head into your palm, giving you a soft smile.

    While you were enjoying the quiet moment, Roman seemed to be thinking about something else. Your thoughts were confirmed when he spoke only a moment later.

    “You have any more stickers?” He asked, raising a brow.

    “Bought a 100 pack online,” you nodded.

    “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner?” He complained, rolling his eyes, dramatic as ever.

    “You wanna collect all of them now don’t you?” You questioned with a soft laugh.

    “I’m gonna have the most fucking stickers,” he confirmed, seeming proud. “Do I get a kiss with every sticker too?”

    “You do realize you can have those any time, right?” You raised a brow at him.

    “Well yeah, but kisses and reward kisses, those are two different things.” He defended.

    Who knew that stickers was all it took to get Roman motivated enough to work?

[vettelsvee]

VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I) ⋆ I've been thinking of this for quite a while and I've finally decided to post this! So, if you want to, feel free to requests as many times as you want <3 ─ Drivers I write for: anyone (current F1 grid or retired). ─ Send me your requests via Tumblr Inbox (+ some idea in case you want me to write something specific). Just choose a number from the following ones and tell me the driver you want me to write about! ─ The ones in bold are already taken and will be posted as soon as possible

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

1. "Your face is so adorable. I bet the rest of your body is" 2. "You want that book? I'll buy you the whole series" ↳ Oscar Piastri 3. "Darling, are you feeling well?" 4. "Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you" ↳ Lando Norris 5. "I might have slept with your robe when you were gone" 6. "If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you" 7. "Here, let's share the blanket" 8. "You have to be quiet if you want to cum" ↳ Lando Norris 9. "But I want to hear you sing" 10. "I'm gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop" 11. "Are you gonna be good for me?" ↳ Lewis Hamilton 12. "Don't get up - I'll do it" 13. "Star-gazing was a good idea" 14. "You look beautiful/handsome in the moonlight" 15. "I think I love you"

16. "I'll always be here for you" 17. "How about something warm? It'll help you sleep" 18. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway" 19. Don't be silly. I want to stay up with you" 20. "It's not morning yet" 21. "Have a nice nap?" 22. "You have sleepy stuff in your eyes" 23. "Time to wake up sweetie. It's a new day" 24. "You stayed up past your bedtime again, didn't you?" 25. "Why don't we tale a nap together? We can be nap buddies" 26. "You're exhausted, honey" 27. "Are you blushing?" 28. "Hey, hey, hey, don't let them say that. You're beautiful" ↳ Lewis Hamilton 29. "Yeah, you're cold. I'm giving you my jacket" 30. "It looks better on you anyway" 31. "You look pretty today" 32. "Can we get married already?" ↳ Lando Norris 33. "Oh, uh, hey. I just wanted to remind you that I love you" 34. "We should compare hands, you know. Science" "What?" "What? It's not like we haven't done anything worse" 35. "You're cute" "What" "I said you look like a fruit" "That doesn't even make sneak" 36. "Yeah, okay, so what if I dreamt about kissing you? Don't we all do that to our best friends ...No? What do you mean no?" 37. "This sounds like you're flirting with me" "...I have been trying to do that for three years now" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 38. "You're the most important person of my life" 39. "Welcome to fatherhood" 40. "God, I'm never leaving your side again" 41. "I got the mirror so you can see yourself while I'm fucking you" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 42. "Don't touch me. Just watch" ↳ Sebatian Vettel 43. "What are you wearing?" 44. "Just watch them having sex with me. Maybe it'll give us some ideas" 45. "Your hair is really soft after you wash it" 46. "Ssh. Stop fussing. I'm just braiding your hair" ↳ Sebastian Vettel 47. "You smell really nice" 48. "You're my new pillow" 49. "We can talk over dinner" 50. "Don't be stubborn. Try it!"

[ravennaortiz]

Lazy Sunday

Summary: A high Saturday turns into lazy Sunday sex. As always 18+

“Babe! You want pineapple or mushrooms or both this time on your pizza?” called Juice as he made his way out to where you were working in your art studio. Eyes glued to his phone in concentration as he worked on getting ya’ll some food. You had spent most of Saturday night and this morning testing some of the new products he was looking to stock at clear passages. They had mostly been edibles and too say the two if you were floating on air was an understatement. So you were now enjoying a very lazy Sunday.

“Bothhhh” You replied slowly as you delicately lowered your paint covered bare ass onto the black canvas below you.

“I love you” murmured Juice as he grinned as he added both to the pizza.  “You think four large pizzas and five orders of breadsticks is enough? I got two of the cookie things too he inquired face scrunched up as he reviewed the cart.

“Think that’s more than enough babe” you chuckled as you set an alarm on your phone. The coolness of the paint sending shivers up your spine. “I love you too”

“Hmm. We can have leftovers for lunches. Use this as our attempt at that meal prepping shit” replied Juice as he hit complete. “Should be about forty-five minutes” he stated as he turned his phone off and finally looked up. His eyes widening at your naked body, hair up in a messy bun as you sipped a beer.

“I think the point of meal prepping is to prep healthy meals love” you giggled as you cocked your head to the side. “Like what you see?”

“Like? No not at all. Fucking love what I’m seeing” he stated excitedly as he yanked his shirt off making you laugh. “Thought you were working on a piece for Tig….please tell me he did not request a painting of your ass” sighed Juice as he rubbed his face.

“Nope. Tigs is done. This is for your dorm room. That way any of those little crow eater bitches can kiss my ass anytime. See what my man gets to bury himself in every night” you replied as you gave him a smile that had him laughing.

“Your pettiness knows no bounds love.” Replied Juice as he shook his head as he pushed his sweats and boxers down his cock already at attention. “Also none of them hold a candle to my girl” he stated as he stepped forward careful not to mess up your work. Once he was in front of you he grinned down at you as you shook your head.

“Bold of you to assume I want to suck your dick” you chuckled as you took another sip of beer before bringing a hand up to stroke him making him groan.

“Figured you had nothing better to do for a couple more minutes” he shrugged as he glanced at your phone as it ticked down. “Fuck” he groaned as he felt your hand move to cup his balls as you lips planted a kiss to the tip before slowly spreading around his length. He rested his hands gently on your head as you slowly bobbed back and forth on just the first couple of inches. “Baby please” he murmured as he moved forward more forcing more of his cock into your mouth. Smiling up at him you bobbed faster taking more of him into your mouth as you went, his hands now at the back of your head as he start to thrust in and out of your mouth.

“Shit. Baby need to be in you” he moaned as he bit his lip trying to hold out a bit longer.

“Then do it” you stated teasingly as your phone went off. Moving off the canvas you turned over onto your hands and knees wiggling your paint covered ass in the air.

“Mmm” you gasped out as Juice knelt behind you and delivered a sharp smack to each ass cheek. Grinning as he watched it jiggle before spreading your ass cheeks as he dipped his tongue into your dripping pussy from behind.

“Oh, fuck Juice” you moaned as you pushed back riding his tongue as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your ass. Juice grinned into your wet slit as he teased your entrance with small kitten licks until you were begging him for more. Moving one hand under you he teased your clit making you buck back harder as he drove you to the edge and let you teeter back and forth. Without warning he pulled his mouth from you and was buried into you in one powerful thrust of his hard cock.

“Shit” you moaned as he sent you flying forward on the floor, hands slipping out from under you. Juice groaned as you clamed and clenched around him. Your soft walls milking his hard length as he continued to pummel your insides. Grabbing your hair he yanked you back up flat to his chest as his other hand moved to your clit. Sucking at your neck he started to move his hips slowly in a figure eight pattern that had your toes curling and eyes rolling as you came hard. You were reduced to only being able to whine and whimper as he tormented your body for several more minutes before he started to pick his thrusts back up until he was shooting his cum into you. “Fuck never wanna leave this” he groaned as the doorbell rang.

[scarredsands]

Saya's workshop is a small garage attached to the right side of their little home. The mechanism on the garage door itself doesn't work, and it has to be manually lifted open. As well as that, there isn't a way to lock the door. It's generally the second or third thing Saya checks on in the morning, making sure her bike and tools are still there and that it wasn't broken into overnight.

It's her little spot where she can work on her hoverbike. There's a toolbench, a wall of pegs with more tools hung along them. She has a stool with wheels on the legs, and a radio that picks up local Orrean channels. It also has capabilities for her to plug her phone in via auxiliary cable to play her own music.

Many of the methods for upkeeping her bike, along with methods she uses to fix it, are things she's watched in online tutorials. Of course, with how unique her bike is, nothing is exact. They just give her a general idea for the most part, she she learns/teaches herself from there as far as specifics go.

There's a variety of hand tolls and power tools she has for her bike. These range from different wrench sizes, socket wrenches, screwdrives, and she even has a welding gun and a blowtorch she'll use from time to time (complete with a welder's mask of course), as well as an angle grinder. With the new set of tools she got from Mags previously, Saya no longer has to worry about her poorer quality wrenches snapping on her.

[lesbiansanemi]

Currently trying not to vomit over the fact that I essentially just lost almost a thousand dollars brb

[burningcomputerpersona]

second night of not being able to fall asleep since the new semester started. now im remembering why i stopped taking my adhd meds

[screampied]

‘ DEATH BY SÉX! 𝜗𝜚

𓉸ྀི sum. his fatal cause of death? op – overly pussydrunk. the prime suspect? located right between your pretty legs. toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, choso, geto.

warnings. fem! reader, very pússydrunk men, unprotected, cunnīlingus, messy eaters, nīpple play, ab riding, sukuna kinda lactates, dry humping, sqúirting, overstim, spīt, dirty talk, praise, p spanking, fīngering, breedīng mentions, petnames.

an. when you realize everyone here's actually d-

☆ GOJO SATORU.

pronounced dead the minute he goes inside.

satoru grunts, glassy eyes widening as he’s watching his reddened swollen tip disappear between your slick entrance. panting out soft whispering ‘hooooly shit’ ‘s and ‘fuck’ ‘s, you could already tell he’s done for. he’s been inside of you more times than you could count—but it’s like every time is the first time. riding the satoru gojo was a fatality in itself. anytime you ride him he’s weak, and he’s even weaker once you’re staring him dead in the eyes—luxuriating in his lewd contorting facial expressions. it was just the way his crystalline-colored eyes would criss ‘n cross, rolling waaaay back into the dark voids of his head each time he cums inside. satoru always loses it whenever you fuck him, scraping your frantic hips against his and quite literally fucking the brat out of him. “yeah, fuck me. don’t stop baby, don’t—fuckin’—stopp, and he glues his palms against both sides of your waist. your knees rest against his bulky thighs as you’re jerking back ‘n forth, watching his jaw go slack whilst his glossed lips part into a wheezing ‘o.’

and at that moment, he knew he was pussy drunk.

the bed creaks beneath you both. it’s creaks sounded more like groans, and the entire wooden headboard was practically about to split in half.

“mhm, eyes on me ‘toru,” you remind him, glancing at his icy blue eyes that wandered every direction but your face. that was always a habit of his. whenever you rode him, sometimes he’d stare off to the side . . or the ceiling . . or his favorite place, your bouncy tits. “not there, baby,” you tilt his chin up, watching the pout gloss across his lips. satoru claws a hand at your hip, grunting as your cunt sucks him in wholly. every time—you had quite the grip on him, and it’s enough to make him his blushing tip smear across your insides. you moan, feeling the hooked curve of his cock expand through your walls, zigzagging its way through your pasty entrance. “fuck, ‘toru. close again, yeah?”

“m- mhm,” he inhales, gnawing at the bars of his inclosure. your hips were killer . . and every single time - he falls in love with how greedy you slam back and forth against him. rutting hips of yours constantly clashing further into him before a hand wraps around his throat. satoru’s snowy lashes flutter as he glances at you, moaning once you give his neck a slight squeeze. “heh, kinky today, are we angel? usually i’m the one who does the choki—fuuck,” he croaks mid sentence. your squeeze around his throat tightens just a bit, not too much. it’s the right amount of pressure that makes his dick twitch inside of you, and you feel the sporadic pulse instantly. satoru starts to pant, and as your cunt’s still freely constricting around his lanky fat length, his head leans back. “goddd, such a naughty girl. you get y’r cockiness from me that’s for sure.”

“do i?” you purr, leaning in to lick a slope down his neck. satoru moans, and a barred palm of his creeps down toward the fat near heart-shaped juncture of your ass. with a stinging whack, he smacks your rear as you rut into him at a much more quicker pace. with the way your hips rolled, you were gonna hypnotize him with your pussy. you’ve still got dried splotches of cum sticking at your sides before his lips start to quiver in impatient frolic. “baby, open your mouth,” you hum, a sudden idea popping into your head.

working even thinking, the white haired man pries open his mouth before looking at you with low hooded, pussy drunk eyes. “ ‘kay,” he replies submissively, heaving each drawn out breath through his full lungs. satoru’s cock plugs you in snug ‘n fully, and each time you slam your flooding wet cunt against his lap—he’d get whiplash. “what, do i stick out my tongue too or . .” and he pauses, cocky grin fading, and within seconds—he’s growing sheepish once he sees you smugly grinning. “oh.. you’re serious, okay!”

satoru lolls out his pink clean tongue, singing out a playful ‘ahhh’ before that’s when you spit directly in his mouth. he blinks thrice, and instinctively, he swallows. after he savors your taste, a slutty moan leaves from the back of his throat as he’s squeezing your ass. “fuck, do that shit again.”

“yeahhh, more?” you whisper, wiping a thumb across his slick pursed lips. satoru broke a cold sweat, and the more you touched him—the more he started to pant like a dog. his dick ached inside of you, and every time you clamp down on him he lets out a sharp hiss. compressing his lips together again, you give him a quick chaste kiss before purring haughtily. “say ‘pretty please’.”

satoru pouts before sighing with a grousing grumble. his ego was nearly massacred, but he wanted more . . and he wanted you. “pretty . . please,” and he brings a hand toward your right breast, stroking a thumb against your nipple. satoru watches you writhe with his dick still tucked inside before his smugness shortly returns.

“spit in my mouth again,” and satoru, with his lopsided cunt-drunk grin, he puffs his lip out, giving your ass it’s final playful spank. “mommy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji fushiguro’s an absolute animal whenever it comes to your pussy. straight up, and he might as well change his tittle to the ‘pussy killer.’

he practically lived between your thighs, and fuck could he eat. it doesn’t take toji long at all to get pussy drunk either—in fact, all he even has to do is just smear the buttony tip of his nose down your sopping wet clit, getting a nice whiff.

your scent – it was so strong that without even using his tongue yet, he could already taste you. his tastebuds were salivating… and with you lying pretty, legs sprawled and all, you really brought out the beast out in him. you meet his feral entranced gaze and toji’s heavily panting—already starting to drool from the cracked crevices of his lips just at staring at your cunt.

and all you knew was . .

he’s hungry, and you made him this way.

“f- fuuuck, toji,” you’d croon out a whine, wiggling your hips before he pulls your jittery legs apart from each other. your legs stuck together with such gluey sapping slick that it was cute—you felt hot the more he started to bring his face towards your teary entrance. “n-ngh,” a soft grunt leaves from you as you felt his cold stare intently focus on your poor weeping folds.

one of toji’s favorite things to do though, was to eat you out.. right after he came inside . . and oh, it was the prettiest sight he could ever see.

as toji swiftly goads a plump thumb up to your tender labia, he watches as the mess start to stream out of you – all at once.

you were putting mere waterfalls to shame with how wet you were, just profusely sopping. as he continues to have an eye contest with your sweet drenched folds for a long amount of seconds—toji finally closes the distance, leaning in and sloppily pressing a kiss your pussy.

immediately, he hears the cute ‘psssh’ ‘s your entrance makes and he darkly chuckles once he feels lustrous strings tear away from your entrance, landing onto his mouth. toji didn’t care that he was tasting himself—a sweet.. filthy mixture of you and him that’s now shamelessly coating his scarred, wry lips.

there’s a faint tang of bitterness as he starts to dip his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt—but again, he’s nasty – he’s dirty and your cunt made him even dirtier. toji made sure to thoroughly drag his tongue through every crevice, lapping up the wads of runny cum that was trying to glissade down your puffed pussy. he’s crazy, grabbing ahold of rickety unstable your hips with two bare hands. shaking his head side to side like a madman.

“toji… fuck, you’re s-so nasty,” you moan, fishing a hand through his rumpled overgrown tresses. toji groans once you give his hair a solid pull, yanking him forward. his entire face was stuffed against your pussy—and honestly, to him.. this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out.

death by pussy.

toji found it cute how you could never stay still, his tongue was that much, and you let off a sweet dragging yelp once the tip of his tongue greets itself against your pretty throbbing g-spot. “fuckkk!”

“nasty just for you, babygirl,” he hoarsely whispers against your folds. hitched hot breath waves into your entrance and you were already starting to arch toward. breathy, labored breaths of yours started to grow more ‘n more irregular as he continued eating you out. after every toe-curling movement from his tongue alone—toji moves even closer, lolling out the entirety of his long flat tongue to get an extra good enough taste. he was greedy.

verdant eyes meet yours as he creates a slow sloppy trail, starting at your fluttering hole allllll the way until he’s guiding his tongue to lick in between your slit. toji thinks it’s cute how you’re throbbing in his mouth – pulsating on his tastebuds the entire time—pulse after fuckin’ pulse. you let off a cute ‘ah!’ as you’re just shoving his head against your face and he snickers.

toji slurps you clean, creating such lewd noises from his mouth before meanly spanking your cunt, staring it dead in the entrance. “she’s my favorite girl, always” and he hums. “ ‘s funny though. she’s just like you,” and you whimper once his palm swats against your pudgy folds again, squelches getting louder. “she talks back exactly just like you, baby. wet with a smart mouth.”

your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you watch with glossy-doe eyes whilst toji plays between your legs. each convulsion gets stronger… and by now, you started to feel yourself short-circuiting. you were so tender, and toji loved more than anything to spank your cunt raw, kiss it, rub it—then spank it again. a feral cycle.

right then, that’s when he snakes two thick fingers inside of your cunt, watching his fingertips slowly disappear. soft shrilling moans drag from your vocal chords before he licks the remnants of his cum from your pussy before a breathy ‘heh’ fans against your clit. “god, she’s fuckin’ nasty today. no manners just like her pretty owner,” and toji pulls his fingers out, licking them before spanking your cunt again with a free hand. “oooh,” he jibes, pointed ears perking at the cute popping slosh. you’re so wet—so so wet and he only wanted more. as his hand continued to smack against your folds, a few droplets of your sheeny juices splat right near the corner of his mouth. a few millimeters away from his slashing scar near his lip. toji happily licks himself clean with his eager tongue, giving your pretty pussy another spank, and another, and a-fuckin’-nother. .

the room’s filled with nothing but loud spanks of his hand going against your cunt—you moan ‘n whimper everytime, the brief occasional sting from the palm of his hand leaving a sweet dirty taste in your mouth. at his next spank, toji hears you moan out a pretty ‘oooh’ of your own and he looks up at you.

“yeah, girl? like that one, huh? fuck, can’t tell who’s nastier,” and he spits on your cunt before lapping it up before it could dribble between your slit. “messy little girl. cute how y’r pussy’s tryna compete with you,” and as he spanking it for a while, toji maneuvers soft tenderly circles against your throbbing heat.

“my messy pussy. all mine.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

it’s rare for nanami to get pussy drunk—but when he does, watch out. he’s a eater at heart, and the moment you tell him what to do, he’s get cunt drunk within a matter of seconds.

“sweetheart, the least you could do is let me see you while ‘m between your legs,” nanami would huff, and his eyes were completely covered by his tie. tied in a neatly loose knot, he’s buried between your legs, so so close to your sopping saturated cunt. he could practically smell you, and as he spoke it was a cute pout that decorated his thin pink lips. as his glossed lips inch closer, he brings your pulsating clit a chaste kiss. “you’re wetter than usual today,” he whispers, and you let off a moan as your head tilts back, clawing a hand through his mussed blond strands. nanami looks up, his vision still blocked—but it’s almost as he’s making direct eye contact with you. as his finger gingerly peels your soddened folds apart, his husky voice pitches deeper. “does me bein’ on my knees ‘n blindfolded turn you on—”

with a impatient sigh, you give nanami’s hair a harder tug. “kennn,” and he watches as you create a wider spreading ‘v’ of your legs, glistening folds spreading apart also. “talk too much. finish eating,” and then a sly smile pulls against your lips as your eyes glance down at his unoccupied hand. “spank it too. . while you’re at it,” and you pout. “pretty please?”

“spank it?” he repeats, nearly getting lost at the sheeny stream of slick that pours down your slavering entrance. your pussy was profusely weeping from top to bottom, and nanami brings a hand up, softly caressing your tender twitching muscle. “my, where’s this comin’ from? you know i wouldn’t wanna hurt you, princess.”

you let off yet another frustrated sigh, feeling your chest heave in and out as nanami’s lips brush up against your swollen clit. pretty, ruby lips of his were all damp—along with the lower part of his jaw that was starting to water all due to your sweetened juices freely cascading down his chin. “ ‘s not gonna hurt, kento,” you reassure him, your voice getting shakier once he goes back to delving his pointed tongue in ‘n out of your throbbing heat.

there’s a coquettish simper that twists near each sides of his lips before he uses a palm to pat your cunt. “yeah? you want me to spank you here, huh?” and you whimper, watching as he starts to swirl a plethora of shapes against your sobbing entrance with his palm. immediately, you coat his entire palm with your slick and he starts to lick against his hand. with a sudden smack, you gush right on his palm a little and you whine at the abrupt contact. “ooh, how was that, my love?”

“harder,” you moan, feeling the bottomless pits of your stomach flutter with butterflies once nanami’s ethereal caramel eyes lock against yours. you hadn’t even realized he pulled his dotted patterned tie up above his eyes, getting a pretty peek of you and your sweet greedy cunt. once he gave you that look with that sleazy lopsided grin, fuck you knew it.

nanami kento’s pussy drunk, and it makes you throb just knowing only you had the power to make him this way.

with a playful snicker, he shakes his head. “ah, ‘harder,’ she says,” he whispers, giving your pussy another spank. one turns into two . . then three, then four . . and eventually, the only sounds that fill the room is nanami’s wide palm swatting against your squelching sex. if you weren’t vocal, you definitely were between your legs because your cunt continued to spat sloshes and squelches from each direction hit from his hand. “my oh my~ she’s a bit of a chatter today, no?”

still with a pout painted across your lips, you let off a sweet needy whine. “ ‘ken, spit on it,” and his ears perk up at your carnal words. you leer down at him as the corners of his lips crease inward, showcasing his dimples and he hums. “please, spit on it kento. need it.”

“no, baby. you want, not need,” nanami corrects you, the frigid silvery band of his watch brushing up against your cunt. as the coolly air of the room fans against your twitching flaps, he gathers up a nice wad of saliva before spitting down on your plump pussy lips.

nanami stares at you the entire time—openly, relishing in your expressions and you’re shivering and pulsating at the same time. seconds later, he leans in to slowly lap up the stringy trail of his own saliva while maintaining direct eye contact with you the entire time. nanami lolls out his lengthy long tongue, curling it inside of you before he gives your tender nub a niiiice long suck. he slurps literally everything out of you, and now. . he’s starting to to spell his last name with the tip of his tongue.

n-a-n-a-m-i k-e-n-t-o and as he’s tracing each letter libidinously, you feel your own hips rock and writhe into his mouth at an unsteady pace. nanami’s growing stubble tickles against your pussy and you whimper.

after a while, he grabs ahold of your hips and his head starts to sashay back and forth. he’s fast, and he softens his voice, talking over your sweet wailing whines. “fuck, use my face, honey. ‘s okay, i don’t bite,” he purrs against your clit. but as he spoke, his soft fawn irises lock against yours before he hums, teasingly nipping his teeth against your sensitive pearled nub while giving you the most pussy-drunken grin you’ve ever seen.

“unless.. you’re into that too, sweetheart—me biting your clit, i mean.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO

with choso—he gets cunt drunk the second he gets a fresh view between your legs. so pretty, just seeing you spread eagle in front of him, teasing him with that playful look in his eyes, oh you were gonna be the death of him. but in this case—not you, but your pussy instead.

“come closer baby,” you quietly coo, watching how your boyfriend’s eyes bulged wider. you look so pretty, slouched back against his side of the bed with your legs spread. he gulps as he openly stares at your drooling cunt - weeping with honey slick that creates a trail of wet molasses. you were so soaked, and choso could tell you were playing with yourself while he was out. “chosoooo,” you hum, a smile marinating against your glossed lips as you could clearly see him nearly entranced by your spread out pussy. he barely blinks, and once he starts making his way between your legs, he lets out a soft whimper. “c’mere, give it a ‘lil kiss.”

“y- you sure?” he sheepishly says, the darkened scar that runs across the bridge of his nose creasing up. as choso brings his face between your thighs, his warm breath aerates down your slit. god, he couldn’t help but get a good whiff. you smelled so sweet—and he hasn’t seen you all day. instinctively, he runs a thumb down your sobbing cunt before feeling his lips twitch. “f- fuck, princess. were you playin’ with yourself earlier?”

in this case—you’d end up making choso an ever bigger freak than you. with an impish grin, you paw a hand through his oily raven strands before inhaling a deep breath.

“maybe jus’ a little,” and you moan once you feel his thin lips pucker, bringing your cunt a soft three second smooch. “yeah- uh huh, like that,” and as your voice starts to tremor, you give his hair a light tug. “choso, use your fingers a little. can you do that too?”

“mhm,” choso replied meekly, and you didn’t have to tell him twice. as your legs continued to sprawl themselves open, he gradually pops in a finger – immediately feeling you try to clamp down on him. choso lets off a soft airy breath, watching with big marveled eyes as your cunt’s so eager to suck in the single digit.

you squelch—then you squelch again, and you let off a moan once you feel him start to scissor his finger way past the tight ring of your gummy entrance. “s- so warm inside, baby,” he murmurs, and he can’t help but lean in, sliding his tongue against your twitching sex. “mmph,” you stare as his eyes flicker back for a moment, and you knew right away that it didn’t take long before he choso kamo was fatally pronounced entirely pussy drunk.

the moment his digit’s buried deep inside of your sopping cunt—he can’t help but add in another, and he’s moaning right with you.

choso was near the side of the bed and his hips took it amongst theirselves to start rocking against the wooden edge. “c- choso,” you mewl out, feeling an eerie stir swarm around the bottom pits of your stomach. his fingers were long, and he made sure to delve them in and out of you, coating each ‘n every inch with such slimy volumes of your sweet sap. “fuuuck, keep kissin’ it too, baby,” and as he continues to obediently follow your words, your legs begin to wrap around his neck. “fuck, fuck, don’t stop. ‘s good, good fuckin’ boy.”

“m’ your good boy,” he repeats, feeling a strain at his dick that sheaths under his jeans once he hears you. your praise—choso’s number one weakness. whenever you showered him with praises, or even degrade him a bit, he’d probably cum right through his pants. choso’s thick fingers plummet deeper until they twist around, maneuvering circular shapes to make you whimper out a desperate battle cry. you slump back, gasping before you feel your leg start to twitch. “ ‘s this okay, baby?”

with another whine running past your lips, you felt a sudden pressure gradually building up. its creeping—and the curvature of your mouth forms into a oval-like ‘o’ the second you feel him rubbing his nose against your cunt.

fuck… you were so close and choso made sure to study your body’s movements. “m’ gonna cum, ‘cho. fuck, right there, don’t stop, ngh,” and as your eyes squeeze shut, you watch him briefly pull out his slick-coated fingers. you’re panting heavily. harsh-heated breaths snatch from your lungs unapologetically, and as you’re laid back with your legs spread wide – you don’t even realized you had gushed right out… a pretty shimmering geyser that sprays out your overwhelmed pussy.

your orgasm was beautiful, and choso’s ears twitched at the melodic sound of you abruptly finishing. you ended up squirting, and it makes him moan knowing he did that. “so.. pretty,” he pouts, lapping up his wet chin with his tongue. you could feel your legs still violently shaking as you were trying to get over your teetering high, your grip in his hair loosening. “hah, good girl. did so good, a bit m- messy but good,” he cheekily jibes, raven eyes flickering up at you.

choso gives your sloppy cunt one more kiss before you moan, feeling him slither both thin fingers back in.

“more… do that again f’me,” and choso playfully nibbles at your clit, hearing your cute yelps from the tenderness. “wanna see you squirt again, and again, and again.”

☆ SUGURU GETO

you’d make him pussy drunk in the most random times — he’d be working out, and you’d be straddling him, bare ‘n all.

geto grunts, feeling your soft wet cunt just laid all out, sitting against his flexing sweaty abs. such carnal thoughts roam through his brain… imagining all types of things—like him being between your legs to start, eating you out like a starved man.

“h-heh.. now m’ startin’ to get why you love watchin’ me do my sets, sweetheart,” geto slyly purrs, raising a brow once he sees you straddling not his lap—but his chest. his perfectly chiseled chest with glistening trails of sweat tearing down his sculptured v-line.

it was true . . you indeed loved to watch geto whenever he worked out, but it always made you super aroused. how his hefty tense muscles would tightly tense at each pull of his dumbbells. how his veins in his forearms would bulge from each rough pull. but the moment you peeled your panties to the side, geto hooks a hand on your hip. “oh? is my girl feelin’ a bit nasty tonight?”

“suguuu,” a cooing whine slithers past your lips as you pout, your wet cunt sitting flat against the top chiseled row of his abs. they were so hard.. and it makes your legs clench together, feeling his chest heave in and out. he’d just gotten through a bunch of reps, but you couldn’t wait—and neither could the stream that’s starting to gloss between your stick thighs. “you’ve been workin’ out all day.”

geto darkly chuckles, brushing a thumb down your drenched pussy. “babe, it’s been three hours,” and as his hooded eyes trail down at your cracked open legs, he exhales deeply. “but. . with a pussy this pretty, i gotta give you some attention too, right?”

“mhm,” you breathe, and he groans once he feels your hands slither toward his pecs. they were so big — and they glistened with sweat, beads racing down every corner. geto leans back, bringing both bulgy arms to rest behind his head as a coy grin plastered across his face. you couldn’t wait any longer, and that’s right when you started to move your sopping cunt against his rock hard abs. your hips moved slowly, and you were going back and forth, up and down . .

“fuck, look at you,” he whispers in a raspy hum, trailing a bare hand toward your the cute curving slope of your ass. geto gruffly groans, feeling his dick twitch in his black tight compression shorts. his noticeable bulge vigorously throbs and aches beneath the cottony fabric and you grinding your sweet cunt against his chest wasn’t exactly helping. geto’s sinister-dark eyes remain fixated on you the entire time, flickering towards your cunt from time to time—and within a blink of an eye, he swats a hand against your ass. “faster baby, don’t slow down now. ride ‘em good. make my fuckin’ abs just as dirty ‘n messy as you, yeah? use that pretty pussy. all for me.”

you start to pant - sharply, and as your eyes meet his, and oh, was he was feral. geto can’t help but strum a few fingers down your clit, bringing his fingers back up toward his lips for a shameless taste. as soon as he got a single taste of you, he was done for.

“sugu, m’ gonna cum,” you whimper, feeling your back starting to arch to a certain degree. slender fingers of yours rummage through his strands, tickling near his scalp before giving it a firm tug. geto groans, and you’re still jerking your cunt against his abs. it’s a lewd snail-trailing slope. you made sure to coat half if not all of his abdomen with your honeyed slick. “suguru, hng. gonna c- oh fuuuck!”

“c’mon then, make a mess. be my messy baby,” he whispers, his tone getting more and more huskier. each word he spoke in such a filthy sultry manner makes your pussy twitches. geto brings a hand down between your legs, ghosting a swollen fat thumb down your needy clit. throb after throb, you were getting closer toward your teetering edge—so much so to where you could almost taste it without actually tasting it. it was becoming inevitable, and right when you end up cumming, you let off the cutest seven-second mewl.

your jaw stupidly hangs open as you end up finishing against his core ripped stomach—geto flexes his pecs underneath you and he huffs. “fuck, good girl,” and as you’re creaming on a row of his washboard abs, geto combs a hand through his hair. your cunt pulses against his skin and he hisses out a breathy needy ‘fuck.’ glancing down with low hooded eyes, he sees your clit dilating. so cute, you were convulsing right on top of him and your hips fatally come to a crashing stop. breath after breath leaves from your lungs as you’re a mess, watching his glossy his entire lower chest glisten with your own arousal to blame. “god, made such a mess on me,” and geto reaches in his boxers as you straddle him, phewing at how hot you looked on top of him.

but right as he sits up, you lightly push him back against his cushiony weight bench, hearing him land with a gruff ‘ugh.’ you pout, dragging a finger down his sharp sculptured v-line before stopping at his black faded happy trail. “s- suguru, let me lick it off you too.”

“atta giiirl,” he croons, giving your ass once final spank. geto leans back, his eyes following you as you lean your head down, still quietly whimpering from your recent release. geto groans, giving your hair a ruffle before sighing. once your tongue starts to trail its way down his sheeny slick abs, he sucks in a breath. “fuck, lick everywhere sweetheart. don’t miss a—hah, don’t miss a drop, fuck.”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“tch. what’s with . . the weird look, woman,” sukuna would pant, and he’s heavily out of breath. he sits back on his throne and oh, he’s flushed. you rode him to a point where he’s nearly speechless for a few seconds. you straddle on top of him with his cock stilled inside of you, feeling all various arms of his wrap around your waist. a pink slit brow furrows before he sighs. “quit looking impish, it’s.. irritating.”

“ ‘kuna,” you remain still, nearly slipping at a moan once you feel his flaccid cock rest between your folds. he’s stretching you out so good as shaky, rickety thighs of yours ached and burned. every vein within your body. he sucks in a breath once your hands feel down his bare, exposed chest. sukuna’s wearing nothing but a kimono on, it’s slit open and you felt all down his body. he’s warm, way warmer than usual and as you continue to touch the curse’s skin, you stop at his oversized pecs. “mhm.” sukuna’s got such a wide chest—but you weren’t so much focused on that, you were focused on his nipples.

his pink, perked nipples that you knew were always so sensitive. he told you about it . . once, and never again because it was well, embarrassing. even air brushing against his skin makes him shiver, including with causing his nipples to shamefully twitch. “can i suck on ‘em again?”

“suck on—oh..” his gruff voice trails, and you can see a splash of bashfulness paint his pale face like a canvas. sukuna ryomen’s embarrassed.. and oh how he wished he could wipe the smug smirk off your face. sukuna scoffs, but it doesn’t take long before he finally caves in. “fine, get it over with.”

your smile never falters, and as he’s still idly buried deeply inside your cunt with such salaciously thick inches, you bring your lips toward his pecs. sukuna inhales deeply, mentally preparing himself before fuck, you cup your lips around his right nipple. “hah, such a weird one you are,” he breathlessly groans, an arm gently clasping under your head to support it. your eyes close, and you suck on it—until he lets off another raspy groan. sukuna’s dick twitches and he’s so tender, so . . . sensitive.

the demon scrapes a few claws down his meaty thigh as your tongue lies itself flat against his perked nipples. “mhm,” your lashes flutter close, and at that exact moment, you start to ride him again. it was sudden, his eyes widen before he lets off a needy husky moan, squeezing a portion of your ass tightly before his crimson eyes roll back. he’s pussy drunk – entirely, especially since he was still trying to get over his most recent orgasmic orgasm. sukuna tried to keep up his façade, but with a cunt as hypnotic as yours, he might as well be buried six feet fuckin’ under. a vein twitches on his cock and its sporadic pulses make you pulse.

he’s just big inside, easily rearranging your insides without even having to move an inch. his lazy downward curve of his dick made you drool—sukuna reached far inside of your pussy, never forgetting to bruise and kiss against your sweet beloved g-spot. “ ‘kunaaa,” you repeat his name, and he could feel his entire body heat the more you whisper his title through those pretty glossed lips. as you briefly depart your lips from his nipples with a loud ‘pop!’ sound echoing through his eerie domain, strings of saliva detaching from your mouth. “hah, can you lactate?”

“you did not just ask me that,” the curse angrily pouts, and you feel his pecs tense. sukuna remains sat on his throne before scoffing. “you humans and your weird fantasizes. no, i don’t lacta—”

“wouldn’t hurt to try,” you titter, and he groans the second your mouth goes back to sucking against his tender skin like a leech. so good, a fang of his pokes beneath his lip as his mouth hands open. you’ve got him right where you wanted him. sukuna grunts from the sensitivity and you thought he was gonna push you away, but instead—he does the opposite. sukuna pulls you closer with one arm, digging his sharp keen fangs into his bottom pulled out lip to suppress his incoming whimpers.

your tongue swirls it way around his nipples, making sure to wet everywhere—he groans, sucking in individual sharp breaths before he feels his cock tightening. fuck, he felt something approaching quickly. his reaction time was devastatingly slow and his look of cockiness suddenly forms into . . neediness.

“ugh, such a nasty girl. but shit— don’t stop,” he snarls, one of his feet thumping against his regal glass floor. he’s chewing on salty anticipation and it’s never tasted sweeter. sukuna’s dick that stills itself inside of you aches for more, and as he watches as your own saliva lewdly race down the corners of your lips, he grumbles. “have some c- class, woman.”

oh, you’re making him stutter now.. and it’s cute— sukuna ryomen was flustered, and he’s so lost in his brief fantasm that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming inside of you yet again. but at the same time, he starts leaking from his pecs. there’s a sweet taste that trickles on the flatness of your tongue as you hum. at the same time, a raw hot load pours into your womb deeply and he lets out a growl that echoes ‘n resounds through the soundproof walls of his domain. “fuck,” he hisses, veins prodding all through his thick neck. your cunt wholly accepts every drop, and you teasingly grind against him as your pussy flutters around him. then it dawned on him, sukuna came… just from you sucking on his nipples. you were about to say something as you try to get up, but he pushes you right back into sucking on his pecs, wrapping an arm around you.

“y’er .. a fuckin’ weirdo,” sukuna grumbled, still shuddering from his intense release. sukuna felt both of his nipples grow hot, and he’s shaking as he’s never felt more sensitive. velvety ropes shoot into you rawly and he huffs, lazily slouching all the way back on his throne.

“so you can lacta—”

“shut up, woman,” he snaps at you, but you can hear the cute shiver in his voice. sukuna’s eyes were droopy and he’s still heavily panting, moaning as you suck on his tender nipples. as you start to move your hips again, relishing the candied taste in your mouth—he’s still dumping hefty amounts of sweltering hot cum until it dribbles past your thighs. you’re overflowed, you’re overflowed and he’s undeniably pussy drunk.

“but… phew, didn’t say you could stop. do it again,” and sukuna’s vermillion-bloodshot eyes narrow at your smug grin before he curses under his breath, eyes rolling back eyes again,

“…please.”