konigbabe-interact

[konigbabe-interact]

doodle

#yuki #yuki tsukumo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanart

[konigbabe-interact]

eleusinian mysteries

DAY 7 ⇢ Gangbang Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; gangbang; oral sex (F & M receive); p-in-v; anal sex (F receive only); pure filth; fingering; cunnilingus; rimming; deepthroat/throatfucking; praise kink; protected sex; ass slaping (like once); pet names (each one calls you differently); basically 4 men 1 female gangbang Summary: How did you find yourself passed around by four men might remain a mystery; at least it's off of your bucket list now. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider is mine. A/N: With NSFW Week oficially over with this piece, I wanted to give special thanks to the radiant Fae (@kennedyswhore) for her unconditional support [that kept me from dropping the event], sublime Kit (@vagabond-umlaut) for her encouraging and kind words (that subconciously pushed me to finish each piece), Karma (@kazushawty) who infected my mind with her filth (in a good way) that resulted in this mess (and kudos to her tutorial for this GIF) and to you, who's reading this [series]. Thank you for the support! ♡

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

There's a thin line between reality and a dream – which can easily be blurred. Especially when the present blends with the past and gets a hold of the future within its grasp.

"What's this?"

Satoru lies spread wide on the bed; torso bared to the world and stretched out, his physique like an invitation to explore. Especially with the way the moon casts its shine onto the mop of silvery strands that crown his head.

With a soft sigh, you position one knee on the plush expanse of the bed, flicking your eyes on your lover. His curious fingers dance towards the petite diary on your nightstand; a beacon of secret desires nestled in the soft glow of tonight's moonlight.

"A journal," you reply, "of sorts," the mumble that leaves your lips is faint, tinged with skepticism. Unease. Shame maybe – even.

"Can I?" With the book already ensconced in his slender fingers, he throws you a questioning look. Seeks your permission. Your silent approval is conveyed through a gentle dip of your chin.

Satoru unfurls the pages. Flips through them. Hair clinging to his forehead, eyes darting across each paragraph and list; he takes his time reading, studying each entry. Flipping through the pages, you notice the crease between his eyebrows deepen as he reaches the last page.

The last page.

There are no hidden feelings between you. You are an open book for him – now in a more literal sense than ever before.

"This page's interesting," he mumbles to himself, yet his words reach your ears clearly. And you know what he means. A warm flush sweeps across your cheeks, causing your eyes to divert towards the sheets, where your nervous fingers fiddle with the fabric, "is this a bucket list?"

His utterance is clear, and you grasp the implication quickly.

"Yeah, well, everyone has dreams."

You feel the bed on your side dip. Satoru shifts, sits up, the sheets cascading around his lithe waist. Warm breath fans over your cheeks, adding fuel to the fire smoldering beneath your skin. His hand finds its way onto your exposed thigh, thumb caressing the damp skin.

"Yours are rather," searching for the right descriptor, the hand that was on your thigh now slips underneath your chin, gently lifting it to align your gaze with the deep, cerulean depths of his eyes, "provocative."

Filthy. That'd be more fitting, you think.

The answer on the tip of your tongue refuses to budge.

"I like that," he adds after a while. "And if you want," sitting straight, his face now stands in front of you, a breath away, "we can do number three now."

When you don't respond – only watch his face inch closer, lips hover over the curve of yours – he licks a thin stripe across your lower lip.

"And I can arrange number seven if you want," he mumbles against your lips, pushing your face towards his.

How such a simple conversation led to this will probably remain a bit of a head–scratcher. How Satoru managed to have all of them agree to this will be a mystery. Maybe he has a knack for bringing out people's hidden desires or a way of making everyone comfortable enough to do this.

But these thoughts don't really stick in your mind. Especially with the way Nanami's tongue continues to lick thick stripes over your drenched walls. Back flat against the table, legs up and spread wide. Toji keeps a vice grip on one of your ankles with Choso gripping the other one – the two men keeping your legs open for the blonde man to devour you comfortably.

You'd never imagine there would be a day when all of them would see you like this.

And that there would come a day when you discover the taste of each of their lips; the unique sensation each of their kiss can bring.

Satoru you were familiar with – hungry. Sloppy. Messy. Remaining filled with passion even after years of familiarity. Holding your face with both his hands, cradling your cheeks. Like the first plunge into a lukewarm sea that turns into swirling foam – enveloping and capricious. He always speaks with his entire body; grinding up against you and wrapping his arms around your back. A boisterous lover.

Nanami – Nanami's kiss, on the other hand, is a contrast to Satoru's intensity. It's precise, measured, and full of depth. A slow dance of passion; like the waltz. His hand comes to your face and cups your chin, lifting your head up just the slightest amount of space so that when his lips meet yours, they nestle in there perfectly. His lips meet yours with a calculated tenderness. There's a sense of control and mastery in his kiss, and it leaves you with a feeling of being cherished and understood.

Toji – like a storm. Wild and untamed, coming out of nowhere with an intensity that left you breathless. An untamed force that sweeps you off your feet. Fingers gripping your chin with iron strength, thumb pushing against your lower lip to part for him more. Tongue both demanding and teasing, as if he can't decide whether to be gentle or let the beast out. The taste of danger and desire both eminent on his lips.

And Choso – the perfect blend of sweetness and ardor. His kiss is unexpectedly tender, considering his broad, rough exterior. A hand resting on your nape, not pushing or anything, with the other sliding up and down your arm; making you feel like he had waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted to savor the warmth of your skin under his palms. He tastes like moonlight on bare skin.

So when all four kiss you, the sensation is a whirlwind – a summer storm. A combination of the intensity of Satoru's kiss, the depth of Nanami's, the wildness of Toji's, and the tenderness of Choso's.

"Mmph–fuck," Toji rumbles, teeth showing in a grimace as nails dig into the flesh of your calf. Your fingers tighten around his base when you feel Nanami's fingertips collect your wetness, spread your lips apart before his finger teases your open hole.

You want to answer, urge Nanami to finally let go of the restraints – feeling like hours have passed since he went down on his knees and buried his face between your legs. Yet it's hard to do so when Satoru's cock plunges into your mouth. So deep in your mouth that you can barely breathe as he thrusts it into you; our lips and the back of your throat rubbing raw against its pulsing flesh. You feel him hit a soft barrier and push harder.

Hands slide across your chest. Slick with saliva before the softness of someone's lips envelops one of your nipples. A kiss, soon followed by a nip of teeth. Gentle, exploring – Choso, you guess. Compared to how Toji keeps squeezing the other one. All rough and fast, his thumb flicking over your erect nipple whenever your finger presses against his slit.

"Daamn, baby," you pick up Satoru's mumbles. And with your head thrown over the table's edge, you manage to look up. To see the underside of his chin, see how he's looking up; how his hand continues to caress your hollowing cheek, thumb collecting the tears that spill over your waterline.

A moan slips past the tight seal of your lips when Nanami's finger is finally buried all the way inside your drenched cunt. You arch against him, hips grinding against his moving hand before another one presses down onto your lower belly.

"Don't move, love," Nanami's voice echoes, hot breath skittering over your wet folds moving to your aching nub, "just let me prep you."

You tighten your grip – both of them – which only earns you deep grunts. Choso's teeth swipe over the tender flesh of your breast, over the soon-to-be bruise forming upon his attack. Tongue swirling over the silk-soft skin, making it stiffen with prickly heat. Your moan and twitch at the touch.

Toji flicks your nipple, rolls it between his fingers. Eyes drawn onto the sight before him. On the way your body lies completely bared; body offered on a platter of lustful ecstasy, like a sacred offering.

As Nanami's hand slides inside of you, heat spreads through every inch of your body. His fingers are merciless, relentlessly adding another finger and curling them both up to press against your walls. Searching for that sweet spot, that one point of ecstasy that will have you seeing stars.

"Baby," Satoru whines, thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth to draw your attention to him, "gonna cum. Think you can swallow me?"

Your hands continue to slide up and down Choso's and Toji's cocks, each on either side of you. Satoru stops moving, the throbbing tip of his cock resting on your upper palate. Your tongue swipes over his leaking slit, collecting the briny, pearlescent droplets before swallowing.

"Mhm," you attempt to nod, taking a deep breath through your nose.

"Good," Satoru responds, holding you in place by digging his fingers into the nape of your neck as his cock expands against your throat walls, pushing every nerve ending until a burning pleasure washes over you.

You can feel the heat spreading through your body, coalescing in the space between your legs.

Nanami's fingers continue to massage your walls, pressing against that slightly ridged spot deep inside – the one that tightens your throat, makes you clamp down on his fingers, grip Choso and Toji tighter. Everyone feeling your pleasure rise–

Satoru stills inside you. And you feel him spill. All hot and heavy; flowing over your tongue and melting on your taste buds like an ice cream cone in the summer sun. Tengy but savory.

–and rise until the dam breaks. Warmth flooding your nerves, overwhelming your senses until you surrender to it completely.

Nanami doesn't stop moving. Instead he speeds up, his fingers working you over until you are soaked in sweat; not a single inch of your skin dry or cool.

Fucking you through the first orgasm of the night while Satoru withdraws from your mouth. A feral groan escapes his lips as he watches scant droplets of his cum escape your mouth and rustle down the side of your cheek, smearing the sensuous skin with slick fluids that threaten to drip into your eyes. He leans down and sweeps up the droplets; plunging his sticky fingers deep inside your mouth.

All while the azure depths of his eyes lock onto your hazy gaze, you watching the upside down image of your boyfriend.

"You're so good," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean. You can taste it on his tongue; the saltiness, the sweetness of his spent, "ready for the real fun?"

Nanami's fingers scratch your quivering walls once last time. His lips – soft and velour – press against your opening, tongue teasingly licking along the entrance before he stands up.

"Mhm–definitely," you murmur and watch. Watch as Nanami stands up, torso sculpted into perfection. Muscles rippling under pale skin, the veins visible beneath the surface. Your fingers itch, coming closer until the tip of your middle finger nudges against the graven abdomen.

His hips pitch forward upon your touch. Hand tightening around his cock as he gives it a few pumps.

You want it. Want him. Want to feel the stretch as he sinks inside.

"Condoms," Satoru chimes in from your side, stern but only reminding everyone as his hand strokes your cheek. Nanami grips your thighs to spread your legs wider for him. Nodding, he reaches to your side, grabbing one from the small stack of them you prepared beforehand.

With one hand on your inner thigh, her rips open the foil packet with his teeth and rolls it down the length of his leaking cock.

"Ready," he asks to which you nod.

The burn is intense, numbing as you're filled in one smooth motion. His cock feels even better than you imagined it would; slick and hot inside you. You can feel every inch of him, every inch that fills you up. His hands tighten around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stays still.

A mewl cascades past your parted lips. Body shifting, seeking more friction; movement. Nanami responds with a roll of his hips – exploring. Testing whether you opened up for him enough. And when he feels the unrestrained slide of his cock inside you, he can't help it any more. At first it's slow, shallow thrusts that have you biting your lip in anticipation.

"Fuck, get it over with already Nanami or I'm gonna explode," you hear a gruff voice.

Toji.

"Y'know," it sounds more like a moan rather than words but all four sets of eyes snap to your face, "I have two holes, don't I?"

Nanami shudders against your cunt, and you could swear he got more swollen upon your words. Choso's eyes snap to Satoru as Toji grabs the bottle of lube from the table. Yet Satoru's gaze lingers on your blissful expression.

"You sure about that?"

When he asks, your chest tightens, pulse gallops.

"She's a big girl, she can decide for herself," Toji responds, hand on your hip. He nods at you and then turns to Nanami, who looks up at him. They exchange a few words, a conversation that passes by your ears.

"Hey–"

"Satoru," you interrupt the man by your side, hand reaching upwards to touch the side of his neck, "s'okay. It's a gift for me after all."

You whimper when Nanami's cock slides out; now feeling the emptiness all over again.

"Gonna move this to the couch," Choso retorts–

Everything feels weightless. Surreal. Each kiss a caress, each touch a fire. Your thoughts are muddled, consumed by the need for him. For all of them.

–and soon enough, your legs are spread wide around Nanami's waist, his cock nestled deep inside you. You move in tandem, slow and shallow thrusts as you straddle him. He leans back against the couch, his head hidden in the nook of your neck; while at the same time, Choso stands behind it, with your lips sealed around his dripping tip.

Toji stays crouched behind you. Any other day, your face would burn over the thought – of having someone's finger up your ass. It's a strange feeling – the steady pressure of his middle finger as he twists inside you. Even with the generous amount of lube, it takes Nanami a few good thrusts and encouraging words – You feel good. Relax for us, yeah? – to get you mellowed enough for Toji to add a second finger and scissor them inside.

All while Satoru stands by the doorframe; fully naked, skin pale with pinkish hue. It feels as if he's glowing, radiant, when your eyes open and he's standing in your peripheral vision.

The motion tugs at something deep inside you. And you moan around Choso's cock. Hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against his underside as you feel pleasure washing the shame away.

Suddenly, Toji's presence leaves your body. Letting go of Choso's cock, you hold it in your hand, thumb swiping over the sensitive slit, earning you a grunt of appreciation as Satoru's eyes lock onto yours – and you feel a small smile tug at your corners before–

"What–"

Something wet slithers around your rim as Nanami stills once again. Teeth nipping at the skin on your clavicles, your lips press momentarily against the ridge of Choso's tip, tasting the saltiness before you use Nanami's shoulders to steady yourself enough to twist around. To look at Toji, crunched down, hands spreading your cheeks apart with face buried between them. His eyes, verdant windows to his carnal soul, glint in the faint luminescence as they look up at you; you can't help but gasp, mouth running dry. His tongue like fire, skin searing under his touch as he swirls around your ass before pushing inside.

"Wait, I–ugh–"

Satoru shifts in the corner of your eyes.

But somehow, it feels good. So fucking good and delightful.

"Relax, not my first rodeo," Toji rumbles when he pulls away, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass; then he goes back for more.

"Feels weird," you let out a chuckle, nodding in Satoru's direction, "but good." Hand grasping Choso's cock – who's been patiently waiting for your return – you kiss the side of the burning flesh while letting Toji devour you.

Nanami's hands slide from their spot on your hips, tracing the curves and dips of your body; settling around the globes of your breasts. They squeeze the abused flesh, kissing the tender spots. Hips having mind of its own, you circle them on top of him, causing Nanami to grow into your skin.

For what feels like an eternity, you stay this way – squeezing, warming Nanami's cock inside your dripping walls. One hand resting at the back of his head as he kisses your chest, massages your nipples and caresses your sides. The other hand moves along Choso's length, lips tightly wrapped around it as you bob your head, Choso's hand resting on top of your head, gently urging you to take more.

With Satoru watching over it all.

"Good," a sharp slap, sting on your ass when Toji finishes and stands up, "arch your back for me, kitten." His hand presses against your lower back, urging you into position.

Your body curves into Nanami's, like water around a rock.

Nanami spreads his legs more, opening you when Toji spread more lube over his cock. Tugs a few times to spread the slick, sticky substance over the condom, dipping the fingers in your ass to loosen the upcoming friction more.

You expect pain; pain of being stretched to the limit. Yet there's none when the tip of his cock slips past your rim and slowly slips inside you – further and further, until his hips are pressed against your ass.

"Fuck–good girl, ain't ya," Toji mumbles, more for himself as he feels the heat of your insides hug him tightly.

"You're doing great," Nanami's lips brush against the shell of your ear, tone quiet – just for you. "Wanna ride us?"

"Mmph–," you nod. Fingers sliding along Choso's cock, taking him in your mouth when you start to move on your own accord.

Which doesn't last too long as pleasure increases, makes it difficult for you to find a good pace. As if he can feel your struggle, Toji grasps your hips, stabilizing the pace as Nanami moves his hips.

Satoru watches on with a mixture of curiosity and admiration as Nanami starts to move; his cock sliding inside you with ease, meeting up with Toji's pace. You can feel both their cocks pushing deep within you, adding fuel to the fire inside.

Their hands never leave your body, grasping at whatever they can reach.

"Ah–" Choso's hips stutter the moment his cock breaches the entrance to your throat. You keep going, deepening the movement with each plunge. The sensation builds up in seconds, making it impossible to keep still as he grunts your name, feeling himself nearing the edge. "Gonna cum–ugh– damn."

His hands grasp your face, hips rolling forward. You grasp Nanami's shoulders, letting Choso ride out his high, his cum sliding down your throat before he slips out – spent and satisfied – and watches with grateful gaze as you swallow him down, not leaving a droplet to escape.

"Shit–," Toji speaks up after a second, "you just got tighter," and he grips your hips, moving Nanami's hands out the way as the intensity of his thrusts increases. "Look at you. Always knew you were a dirty one."

You can't even respond, just focus on the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Pulling away, Choso takes a step back; steading yourself on Nanami, using his chest as leverage, you pull back. Back meeting Toji's solid chest, his hand wrapping around the side of your neck while he brings your head to his – cheek to cheek, lips pressed against your ear.

"Would kill to have you cum raw on my cock alone," he mumbles. And you know the reason for the quiet whisper. You can feel Nanami's hands move to your hips, steadying them as he thrusts in time with Toji. Together they create a perfect tempo, pushing you closer.

"Ah, ah–" you moan out as their combined rhythm sends pleasure through you, building up the intensity until it takes over every inch of your body. Until your walls shudder around them, body tensing before you let loose.

Nanami doesn't stay behind; his hands slide up your waist to grip your ribs. He feels you tense around him, and the sound of your name slipping past his gritted teeth echoes in the room as he drops his forehead to your collarbones. With one final thrust, he spills inside the condom with a groan. You can feel the tension in his shoulders relax; as if a weight has been lifted from them.

Still in haze – eyes closed – you let out a small sigh, feeling the last of Nanami's warmth seep out of your body before the scene shifts.

Satoru has you pinned against the wall, Toji standing behind. His hands grip your hips, pushing his hard, slick cock inside your loose asshole while Satoru moves in front of you, taking your face in his hands – his hands move down from your chin to your jaw, then to the side, to the sensitive skin along the bottom of your ear and your collarbone. The strong wide thumb of his right hand presses against the corner of your mouth, gently.

So you open up. Legs supported under Toji's wise grip, you offer yourself to the two. You can feel Toji behind you, his breath hot on your neck as he thrusts back and forth. Teeth marking your nape, electrifying your sensitive body – still high from another climax mere seconds ago, yet neither of the two stopped –

Satoru's lips move to your wet cheek before he inches closer again, lips ghosting yours until the tip of his tongue finds its way inside your mouth – warm and wet – a silent command for you to reciprocate, and you do. You let yourself get lost in his kiss while Toji's hips crash against yours, pushing you both forward.

The sensation is overwhelming – a mixture of pleasure and pain as both men push against each other, letting out groans of pleasure and grunts of delight that blur the line between lustful and loving. Primal and affectionate.

"Fuck–kitten," Toji grumbles, chest vibrating against your back, "gonna cum."

And even with the condom on, you feel it. Feel the sudden rush of warmth as Toji's cock pulsates inside you. His name sounds like a prayer on your tongue when he stills, flexing his arms and spreading you wider for Satoru's harsh thrusts to reach deeper. Pelvis massaging your swollen nub each time he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt – raw, unrestrained, without a barrier. Unlike the rest.

All while Toji relishes in the squeeze of your ass, the snug fit whenever Satoru hits that deepest spot inside you and bullies his cock in your walls (even if he hates to admit it).

The sensation sends your body into a new frenzy and you can feel the tension building up. Again. Watching Satoru's eyes close, the crease between his brows deepen. Hips stuttering, his hand cradles your cheek as he lets go. Your arms sneak around his shoulders, face nestled in the sharp contour of his neck.

(With all the sensations buzzing inside your body, in each nerve, you don't notice Toji leaving silently.)

A strong arm sneaks behind your back, the other placed on the back of your neck. Hips pushing into your softness as he grunts appreciatively; you feel the slickness flood your walls, paint it pearlescent white. He holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Heat rolling over your body. His voice like honey and the sound of it alone is enough to bring you back to earth.

Until it all ends in a beautiful mess. A gluttony of pleasure, skin slick and breathless.

And somehow, you want more.

"Think we can do round two."

[konigbabe-interact]

moniiii HELLOOO how are you ??? :D

Tee!! Hi! ♡♡ I'm doing great, working on something spicey and mentally getting ready for uni (which starts this Monday for me lol). What about you? ♡

#moni answers #satoruhour #moots ♡ satoruhour #ask

[konigbabe-interact]

'plagiarism' issue

Not one for drama, yet I want to bring attention to this. I won’t elaborate on this issue more.

So it happened.

A while ago but it remains slowly nipping at my brain. For that case, I have decided to write it all down and collect my thoughts using this post.

My work like real people do (and the whole thought/idea behind it) has been taken, rewritten, tweaked and published as someone else's idea (that they apparently had since spring). I asked them to take it down privately. They did add my @ and for some time, I was content until they started creating the whole "universe" around it and taking praise for it even tho it's not their original idea.

The dark side of fanfiction is that there is not much I can do but at least I can make awareness about the issue.

Starting this with some definitions and clearance:

plagiarism: "Presenting work or ideas from another source as your own...by incorporating it into your work without full acknowledgment.[1]"

I love this by Wattpad themself:

What if they give credit?

"It is still plagiarism even if you give credit. Even when someone uses an artist's base or picture they are expected to change it up to become something new, rather than just running it through a filter, or tweaking it with a few minor edits. There is a major difference between copying another person's storyline and making edits and actually writing a story.[2]"

Now to the point:

For LRPD, I have created a very specific premise that I haven't read/seen before:

Leon is a single dad of a young girl (didn't specify age but definitely a preteen, around fourth grade).

He is absent from his daughter's life, especially from her school activities. He becomes this "enigma" for the teachers.

The daughter doesn't have a mother. 

Teacher!reader is concerned for the daughter's wellbeing so one day, when Leon picks her up, she requires to have a talk with him.

During the talk, he offers her a dinner instead of having to participate in school activities.

Teacher!reader and Leon sleep together during the first off-school meeting. 

Teacher!reader wakes up before Leon and looks at his exposed [muscular] back.

Teacher!reader searches for the bathroom, notices Leon’s poorly decorated apartment except for his daughter’s stuff. 

Teacher!reader is reffered to as "Miss teacher" in this universe.

They copied almost THE WHOLE premise. It'd be okay to write your own version of single dad Leon and his kid's teacher - I don't own the trope - but following the SAME ORIGINAL STORYLINE is not okay [with me]...

The parts after "Keep reading" consists of photo 'evidence' of the similarities (some are less obvious but I'll mention them regardless). It is LONG because I have a lot to say.

LRPD was published May 2, 2023, their story was published August 14, 2023.

Fun fact: Few days ago, I created a separate masterlist for the series and few days later, they did the same thing.

: ̗̀➛ Example 1 - Leon sits on the chair

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 2 - Could've been a...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 3 - Leon's absent from his daughter's life, especially from her school activities, and teacher!reader saying that he should be more present...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 4 - Leon snaps because the kid's mother is mentioned (also mention of him having his arms folded during the meeting which the other person mentioned earlier in their work)...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 5 - Leon invites you to dinner instead of attenting the school event…

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 6 - Aunt Claire makes an appereance (mentioned only)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 7 (NSFW) - Teacher!reader worried where is Leon's kid during heavy make-out session that leads to s*x (they did wrote a full original smut scene, which I skipped so idk if there are any familiarities; I have decided that a full smut scene doesn't do it for me in this story)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 8 - Morning after

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 9 - Leon's apartment description (they basically just simplified my abstact, "show, don't tell" description)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 10 - Aunt Claire calls to tell Leon to pick his daughter in the morning after

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 11 - AND Miss Teacher's significant petname has an alternative but also makes an appereance (in the same formating on top of that)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs - NSFW (alternative + miss teacher):

They were smart by rewritting it in their own words but it still lays heavy on my chest that a story I have crafted for WEEKS has been taken from me like that. It's more glaring if you read both stories instead of me splitting it into excerpts (and I didn't insert all of them as there is a limit to pictures per post).

Taking inspiration or straight-up rewritting someone's detailed idea is a difference.

Sources:

[1] https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/academic/guidance/skills/plagiarism

[2] https://www.wattpad.com/128409012-how-to-write-fanfiction-plagiarism-vs-inspiration

[konigbabe-interact]

⚠ WARNINGS ⚠ ⇢ remember that this is a kink [and fetish] master list, which means every single work contains explicit sexual content ⚠ ⇢ while some of these kinks and fetishes may appear too much for some readers, all of these works were written as consensual with all characters over the legal age limit ⚠

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3

A is for AGE GAP

age gap...in which one partner is significantly older than the other ✎ John Price x fem!reader

B is for BREEDING

breeding...in which one person is aroused by the idea of impregnating their partner ✎ Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

C is for COCK WARMING

cock warming...in which a partner keeps their partner's cock nice, hard, and warm in their hole

D is for DOMINANCE

dominance (D/S)...in which a dominant is in complete control of the whole sexual relationship with their partner

E is for EXHIBITIONISM

exhibitionism...in which someone gains sexual gratifications from having sex while being watched ✎ Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

F is for FACE SITTING

face sitting...in which one partner sits or hovers over their partner's face

G is for GANBANG

gangbang...in which four or more people engange in a sexual intercourse with one passive partner ✎ Simon “Ghost” Riley x König x Keegan P. Russ x fem!reader ✎ Satoru Gojo x Toji Fushiguro x Kento Nanami x Choso Kamo x fem!reader

H is for HATEFUCKING

hatefucking...in which a person has sex with someone they hate ✎ Tangerine x fem!reader ✎ Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

I is for IMPACT PLAY

impact play...in which one person is struck by another person for the sexual gratification of either or both parties

J is for JAPANESE ROPE BONDAGE

Japanese rope bondage...in which a partner is tied using ropes and intricate knots during sex ✎ Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

K is for KATOPTRONOPHILIA

katoptroniophilia...in which a person gains sexual gratification from seeing themselves in the mirror (aka mirror sex) ✎ Keegan P. Russ x fem!reader

L is for LINGERIE

lingerie...in which one person is aroused by their partner wearing lingerie ✎ John Price x fem!reader

M is for MONSTER-FUCKING

monsterfucking...in which one person engages in a sexual act with a non-human ✎ kitsune!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

N is for NARRATOPHILIA

narratophilia...in which someone is aroused by sexual storytelling ✎ Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

O is for ORGASM DENIAL

orgasm denial...in which one partner maintains a high level of arousal for an extended period of time without experiencing orgasm ✎ Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

P is for PREGNANCY

pregnancy...in which one person is attracted to the idea of having sex with a pregnant person

Q is for QUICKIE

quickie...in which two people have a brief sexual encounter that skips over some of the sensual aspects and foreplay ✎ Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

R is for ROUGH SEX

rough sex...in which two people have a rough intercouse, usually accompanied by choking, hair pulling, and spanking ✎ plaga!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

S is for SENSORY DEPRIVATION

sensory deprivation...in which one partner is derived of one or more of their senses, such as sight and hearing

T is for TEMPERATURE PLAY

temperature play...in which one partner uses heat or cold to stimulate neuroreceptors under the skin and provoke a sensual reaction of their partner

U is for UNIFORM PLAY

uniform play...in which one partner wears a uniform (such as police, nurse...) during fore-play or the whole sex

V is for VOYERISM

voyerism...in which someone gains sexual pleasure from watching others engage in sexual activity

W is for WAX PLAY

wax play....in which a person drips warm or hot wax onto their partner’s naked body during sex or foreplay

X is for XERONISUS

xeronisus...in which a person is unable to reach orgasm

Z is for ZELOPHILIA

zelophilia...in which a person becomes sexually aroused by feelings of jealousy

some definitions used from kinkly dot com

#updated

[konigbabe-interact]

feast of pleasure

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x König x Keegan P. Russ x fem!reader

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: smut; p-in-v sex; anal sex; unprotected sex; foursome - f/m/m/m; fingering; oral - f & m; strong language; dirty talk; gendered reader; gendered terminology

Summary: A simple game; a friendly atmosphere; until one of the masked men asked, "would you rather kiss him or me?"; now spread wide for all three of them, nothing to hide as you submitted to the pleasure they were willing to give.

A/N:  Shoutout to @ave661 for making this art. Divider by @firefly-graphics [source]

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

Your body was an invitation, a tantalizing feast of pleasure, just waiting to be savored; skin like silk, invitingly soft, begging to be touched. Caressed. Worshipped. You were theirs to explore and enjoy; to be taken and owned, an object of their pleasure and desires.

Ghost's lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left his clenched teeth as he took notice.

No one actually knew how you ended up in such a situation. At first, such an idea would go completely over your head, laughing it off; which you did in the beginning, just a silly fantasy, something out of reach for you. The enigma of the masks, the unyielding thoughts swirling inside your brain as you watched them in action, bodies working on autopilot. Movements swift and merciless.

Desperately trying to hold onto your sanity, brain slowly turning to mush as you ground into Keegan’s hips, feeling his hardness over your clothed core. A satisfied grunt left his kiss-bruised lips; hands caressing the exposed flesh of your thighs, fingers dancing deliberately over the hem of your underwear as he watched. Eyes fixated on your face, looking as your lips wrapped around the spongy head of König’s cock, sucking the tip in with hollowed cheeks. Hand wrapped around his girth, pumping the remaining length while the other hand worked on Simon, who was standing opposite König, head thrown back, eyes closed in a blissful pleasure as your fingers danced along his cock. Thumb swiping over the head occasionally, spreading more precum over his foreskin.

Keegan’s tongue was leaving wet patches on your neck, blowing a cold breeze on the heating skin as his hands led you through the motions, his fingers on the small of your back prompting you to grind on him harder.

"Dammit, kitten," his voice was rough around the edges, just like him, "can feel you soaking me."

No one questioned the situation no more; the last one to give in was König, uncertain of the idea the longest.

It all began innocently enough, with every one of you gathered to enjoy a celebratory drink after a successful raid. To liven up the night, someone suggested playing a game of "Would You Rather?". After a few rounds of drinks, the sensation of the alcohol coursing through your veins was palpable; it was Keegan who shifted the atmosphere, going from a simple question to "Would you rather kiss me or Ghost?".

The air became still, tense as you stared at him; the dark pupils spreading over the blue ocean of his eyes, darkening them. König shifted in his seat, gaze watching the amber-colored drink swirl in his glass. Both ghosts, however, stared at you in unison; Keegan curious, Simon daring.

A giggle of nervousness escaped your lips; deep breath in, you felt suffocated for a moment, eyes fixated on the man in front of you; König's eyes glancing towards you, his countenance bowed, creasing his brow in a myriad of wrinkles, his face unreadable.

"All."

Keegan grinned at you, mischief glinting in his eyes as he shot a look at Simon and then König. A silent agreement was made at that moment; something new was about to arise. That was when you found out that your dream, the fantasy, was nowhere near reality. Their kisses; the way they worshipped you; it was all so different, it made your head spiral.

Keegan kissed like a man starved; lips branding yours with passionate fervor, tongue swirling with skillful expertise, exploring the depths of your mouth with each teasing stroke. Hands grasping your throat, the guttural groans shooting straight to your core, heart racing. His presence intoxicating, tongue driving you into complete submission. Hands angling your face to his own desire, thumb caressing the front of your throat; the gentle touch absolute contrast to the rough bites bruising your lips. His touch was raw. Primal. Promising. Keegan shifted you into a pliant state, his touch commanding, handling you in any way he desired, assuring you that in his hands, all your worries would melt away.

Ghost, Simon was a guide; hands grasping your thighs, hips, caressing your curves as his lips moved along yours. Sucking your tongue, a promise of what was about to happen if you let him in; tongue dancing along your lower lip, bruised and abused after Keegan’s hungry assault. Simon soothed the pain, becoming a beacon of comfort and security. A watcher. Observer. He was in control, his moves calculated and sure, yet utterly passionate.

König; sweet and caring. A benign touch of aftercare after the ghosts had their turns. His size betrayed him; a gentle giant. His lips were soft and tasted like honey. Hands caressing your face, thumb swiping over your heated cheeks as his tongue tangled with yours in a passionate dance of devotion. Hesitant to give in at first, even with your eyes begging and Keegan’s encouraging words; "C’mon mate, nothing to be shy about, we’re all friends here, right?" and Simon’s affirmative nod as his hand stayed on your leg, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh.

The ghosts watched in inquisitiveness, wondering if the silent observer would become a willing participant in their little game. Looking into König’s eyes, a wave of sympathy swept over you. Features relaxing as you reached across the small table, hips digging into the edge, you had to almost bend over it to reach his face. Simon’s hand moved to the back of your thigh, his touch never leaving as your eyes scanned König’s face, noticing the pinkish tint on his cheeks, the alcohol rushing through his veins.

"It’s just us," you whispered, feeling his breath fan over your wet lips, "nothing to be ashamed of."

His touch was electrifying, hand bringing your face into his by the back of your neck, fingers digging into your scalp as König enveloped you in his presence. A moan escaped your occupied lips as Simon’s fingertips brushed over the apex of your thighs before dancing over your clothed center; hips bucking into his hand involuntarily.

"You want us, pet?" he asked, tone lazy. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt König’s hands on your face, lips smashed against yours.

A hum of appreciation rumbled deep inside your throat. A hot jolt of energy spread inside your tummy as a hand stroked the exposed skin of the small of your back. Lips brushed against your ear before someone swiped their tongue on the skin behind it; Keegan’s words echoed in your head like a soft lullaby, sending you into a state of pure bliss, "we need words, kitten."

Your heart fluttered, air leaving your lungs as you exhaled in contentment, breaking from König’s kiss. Gazing deeply into Keegan's eyes, you could feel the desire radiating from his soul; his eyes were like a spell, holding you in place and igniting a flame of longing in your core.

"I want you all, all at once, Keegan," you murmured. König’s hand tightened in your hair, the pull straining your scalp as a strong urge to move closer to Keegan overtook your body; drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"Then get on that table," it felt like it was just the two of you for a moment; your surroundings faded away as König's hand caressed your hair and Simon's fingertips caressed the apex of your thighs.

Eyes never leaving Keegan’s, body on autopilot, you followed his order. The coolness of the wood against the heated skin of your back, shirt discarded in the process. Simon stood up, gripping your ankle firmly while all three of them looked at your exposed body, eyes traveling over the soft curves, searing you in your place. The chill air gradually grew hotter, completely engulfing your skin in its warmth.

Your body was an invitation, a tantalizing feast of pleasure, just waiting to be savored; skin like silk, invitingly soft, begging to be touched. Caressed. Worshipped. You were theirs to explore and enjoy; to be taken and owned, an object of their pleasure and desires.

Legs spread on each side of Simon, he took off your shoes and socks, fingertips circling around your ankles as you looked up at König, who was now standing to his full height. Extending one arm toward him, a soft "come here" left your lips in a murmur, a grin on your swollen lips. He stayed still for a moment, the image of you, spread wide on the table, engraving in his memory to be remembered in the future.

Eventually, he crouched down; hand on the table as his lips connected with yours once again, a satisfied whimper sounded from your lips.

Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, quickly igniting a wildfire of desire within you. You heard Keegan talk, sweet words of admiration, but it was Simon's low and rasped tone that lingered in your ears after he had spoken; too indulged in the depths of satisfaction König’s lips had brought you, you didn't care enough to listen. Completely lost in the bliss, your mind on cloud nine, the intensity of the sensations coursing through you increasing with every touch, every caress, every whisper.

A hand sneaked on your hip, giving it a squeeze; an order your body understood. Arching your back off the table, someone’s fingertips traced the clasp of your bra before getting rid of it. One swift movement; practiced, skilled. A mouth on the soft tissue of your breast, another hand kneading the other one, wet lips enveloping your nipple, a tongue swiping over the pulsing bundle of nerves, thumb circling the other one.

Moaning into König’s mouth, his tongue swiped over yours, the rich taste of alcohol mingling with the sweet taste of your saliva. Breaths ragged. Another pair of hands undid your belt, sending a thrill down your spine. Simon’s voice felt distant, yet his breath fanned over your belly button as he spoke in a sultry tone, "lift your hips for me, pet."

You complied, of course. Nothing but respect for your lieutenant. One powerful tug and your legs were freed from the restraints of your pants. Kisses lingered on your calves, the men absolutely stunned by the beauty beneath them. Simon’s tongue swiped over your skin, teeth sinking into your legs; aggressive, primal, possessive. The after kisses gentle, soothing the pain away as you writhed underneath them.

It was Keegan who pulled away first, admiring the irritated flesh of your breasts before his palm laid flat against your soaked center, a guttural grunt accompanied by his lips on your ribs vibrating through your entire being. Hips grounding into his hand, he added pressure onto your aching nub.

The few words exchanged between the men were almost drowned out by your own heavy breathing as you shamelessly moved your hips, chasing the sensation of pressure that lingered between your legs. König's lips were still locked with yours, his hands nowhere to be found as you both embraced in a passionate kiss.

The air was saturated with the musky smell of arousal and sexuality, sending a shiver of delight through your body. As your mouths parted, you could see König's hand wrapped firmly around himself, feeling all the air punched out of your lungs.

Keegan’s touch was electric. You wanted more; a craving that only intensified as you continued to grind against his palm, pushing against his body as your eagerness grew with every second.

That was when you noticed; Simon disappeared. The ghost nowhere to be found, your eyes scanned the empty room before meeting with Keegan.

"Looking for lube," he explained, a sly smile on his face as he sneaked one hand behind your neck, fingers digging into your scalp, "we’re gonna need it."

"Okay," you swallowed, a knot tightening inside your throat as you realized; this was really happening. König’s grunts clouded your mind, Keegan’s eyes staring into your soul.

Bracing yourself on your hands, your lips chased Keegan’s, legs swung to close him in. Reaching your hand to your side, your fingertips traced König’s arm, feeling the hard muscle flexing as he palmed himself in a slow, almost punishing rate.

Keegan explored your body, lips an inch from yours but never touching. Teasing. As you moved forward, he pulled back, stopping all movement. A game of cat and mouse.

"Keegan," you mumbled, lips brushing his. From the side of your view, you saw König; standing tall, cock hard and glistening with precum. Swirling your tongue over Keegan’s lips, his eyes dark and smoldering with passion, the silvery blue of them completely overtaken by the deep, unbridled desire that was radiating from him. A playful sparkle shone in his eyes, though, teasing and inviting you to explore the depths of his craving. His lips were soft and inviting, urging you to continue to tantalize his senses with your passionate embrace.

A cunning grin formed on your face, biting your lips, you wrapped your ankles around his shoulders, his hands closing over your thighs. Reaching to your side, your hand enveloped König, stopping his movement as you licked your lips.

Feeling Keegan's stare, quickly looking up at König, you noticed the passionate craving in his eyes.

A kiss on his head, the sweetness of the precum coating your lips; salty, briny, brackish. A moan left you as your lips wrapped around the tip.

The moment didn’t last long; Keegan’s hands gripped your hips, tugging you forward until the edge of the table scraped your naked back as you slid off. Releasing König’s cock with a whimper, you landed on Keegan’s lap. He was already hard, a groan escaping his parted lips as you ground into him.

"Where the fuck is Simon," you mumbled, hand wrapping around König’s cock as Keegan’s lips searched yours, mingling the taste of you and König with his own. His kiss made your skin burn and your heart race as you felt a wave of desire wash over you; you wanted them all and you wanted them now.

As if being summoned, Simon’s dark and looming figure appeared by your side, handing Keegan a bottle of petroleum jelly.

Your eyes locked with his, heart fluttering as a smudge of darkness framed the mesmerizing, teal blue of his eyes. Simon’s gaze was intense yet reassuring, and you felt a deep, primal need course through you.

Fingers locking on his belt, you tugged; the signal not going unnoticed. Hips circling on top of Keegan, his hands caressed your thighs as you waited; waited for Simon to finally free himself, cock hardening as your fingers wrapped around his girth.

He couldn’t compare to König in length; but who could? Simon was more on the thicker side, your fingers too short to wrap fully around him.

Keegan's lips pressed hungrily against the front of your throat, a breathy moan escaping from your kiss-swollen lips as your hands worked on the men next to you.

Turning to König, you took him in your mouth while swiping your thumb over Simon’s tip, the droplet of precum not enough to lubricate; so you switched, the rich taste of König soon mixing with Simon’s as you sucked his tip in, tongue flat against his underside.

König’s broken English mixed with German as you pumped him, slow and tantalizing, prolonging the pleasure.

"Bloody hell, pet," Simon exhaled, hand on top of your head as he guided your face on his cock. Taking as much as you could, you felt the spongy head hit the back of your throat, closing in on him; feeling him shudder shot fire to your cunt, pulsating for attention as you felt the sense of power over the man, known for his scary, distant demeanor; now completely under the spell of your mouth, the most vulnerable he might ever be.

Mouth back to König, you took as much in as your mouth allowed; which wasn’t a lot but enough to satisfy. Grinding your hips into Keegan, his teeth sank into the skin on top of your breast as his hand laid flat on your tummy before creeping downwards in an entrancing manner.

Hand sneaking inside your underwear, a moan vibrated in your throat, stuffed full of König as Keegan’s finger collected your wetness, spreading it over your aching clit.

"Damn, kitten," he mumbled, sucking on your nipple in the process, "you’re already soaking and we haven’t even started yet."

A delightful feeling spread in your abdomen as Keegan’s fingers spread your lips, teasing your entrance.

Pulling back, you shot him a pleading look, "please."

"What?" he raised his eyebrows, that same sparkle in his eyes as before, "you want my fingers?"

You nodded. Mind hazy. Completely wiped off of any rational thinking as all you could feel were the hands on you, Simon’s grip in your hair slowly guiding you back to him.

Moans of pleasure mixed with grunts of delight, everything felt like a wildfire as Keegan’s fingers explored every inch of your innermost depths, his nails delicately scraping against your quivering walls, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body like a wave of molten honey.

Your heart raced as Keegan's touch became increasingly more passionate, the sensation of his fingertips teasing and tantalizing you to unimaginable heights of pleasure.

"Fuck yourself, kitten," Keegan’s voice was rough, teeth scraping along your shoulder as he stilled all the movement. Legs bracing on either side of him, you lift yourself up until only the fingertips remained inside; slowly descending back down.

Simon’s grunts turned into groans, a moan escaping his lips once in a while; the sound making you go absolutely feral.

"Fuck, guys," Keegan chuckles as he watched you fuck yourself with his fingers, "she’s dripping, might not even need that lube."

Heat spread in your face as you listened to Simon’s rugged sounds, his head pulsating inside your throat as his fingers tighten in your hair.

"I’m gonna cum," he thrust forward; a gentle, calculated move, "gonna fill that mouth of yours."

Clenching around Keegan’s fingers, curses left his mouth; thumb on your clit, hand on your thigh, an encouraging squeeze here and there.

And then, for the first time, you felt the electrifying sensation of witnessing Simon, the mysterious and alluring Ghost, unraveling in pleasure; his brows intensely furrowed, a delicate layer of sweat glistening on his temples, his lips parted in a blissful moan as he spilled deep inside your mouth, coating your tongue in his bitter release.

Pulling away, you swiped your tongue over his slit, collecting the remains of his cum on the tip of your tongue. Drowning in your own pleasure, swallowing what Simon gave you, you looked at Keegan; eyes wide, hungry as he met your thrusts, feeling your walls clenching around his fingers. Gasping, nearing your own climax, he added another finger, curling them inside to find that sweet spot; to get you to scream for him.

Tightening your grip around König, increasing the speed of your hand, a strangled moan escaped your open, bruised lips. The heat inside your tummy overwhelming as you felt the sensation of pleasure grow. Keegan’s thumb on your clit moved faster, lips circling your nipple as you moaned, the wetness between your legs a delicious sensation.

Hips bucking; Keegan’s fingers continued pumping through your climax, sending surging sensations of pleasure that seemed to last forever.

"Get her on the table," Simon ordered. Withdrawing his fingers from you, Keegan’s arms wrapped around your back; you could feel the wetness on his fingers coat your side as he lifted you up.

Legs tangling in the air, bathing in the blissful ecstasy, he laid you back on the table, discarding the last vestiges of clothing. Your body exposed, vulnerable to his touch, you felt a rush of arousal as he trailed his fingertips over your curves, exploring every inch of you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Looking at König, you whispered a desperate, breathy plea, "Please, König, I need you to fuck me."

You could swear that you saw his cock twitch at your words. His face flushed with desire; he nodded.

"She’ll need more prep for you, my man," Keegan said to König as you reached for the giant, seeing Simon in the corner of your eyes; standing near, arms crossed over his naked chest. He was watching the scene before him; observing. His eyes a calming haven to the storm happening. A guardian; you’d say.

"Condoms?" Keegan took you from your trance, hand palming his own cock as he waited for your answer; shaking your head, whispering a simple "implant", he nodded. Hands running down your hips, he turned you around, tugging you backward until your ass hang in the air.

Face forward, you latched your mouth back on König. Keegan's hand glided along the contours of your back, sliding over the flesh of your asscheeks.

Spreading you apart for him, the hot breath of his desire fanned over your dripping center as he flicked his tongue inside you, the sensation causing you to arch your back and cry out in pleasure, a hum vibrating in his throat.

"Tastes like goddamn heaven," he kissed your opening, standing up. Guiding the tip of his hard, velvety cock to your trembling entrance, tasting your sweet release, he eased into you, filling you with aching pleasure. Inch by inch, he split you apart and built you back together, stoking the flames of desire within you.

His hands moved with a delicate touch all over your body, making their way to your hips, grasping them tightly as he pushed himself further into you. You felt an overwhelming pleasure as your body was slowly filled with his raging desire. His hips pushed against yours as he went deeper, allowing your gummy walls to wrap around him as he moved.

The moment he was fully seated inside, he stilled; relishing in the feeling of being absolutely full, you took as much of König as you possibly could inside your mouth, tasting the sweet, salty skin. His body gently rocked against your face, each thrust sending a thrill of arousal to where Keegan was seated.

Keegan’s thrusts were deliberate and provoking, each one sending an explosive wave of pleasure that made your body quiver with delight; hands moved along your curves, igniting an inferno of passion that threatened to consume you.

König’s groans grew louder as you hollowed your cheeks, tongue laying flat over his slit for a moment.

The room was soon filled with the sound of your moans and your wetness as Keegan rolled his hips against your ass, filling you up with every inch of his cock. Every time he pulled away, your body yearned for him, your muscles contracting around him.

"Gonna fuck that ass of yours, kitten," Keegan groaned between the tantalizing thrusts, "s’that okay?"

Moaning around König’s cock, you already knew the drill. Letting him slip from your warm mouth, you allowed Keegan to do what he wanted with your body.

Pulling away completely, he swiped his fingers over your mixed juices before plunging back inside; spreading your own juices over the tight ring of muscles, he eased the tip of his finger in.

"Fuckin’ hell," a deep, filthy grunt escaped Keegan’s lips as he watched you eagerly suck it in.

Simon’s eyes burned holes into Keegan as he observed his preparations. All while watching your mouth getting stuffed, silently admiring König for his stamina, being able to hold on for that long, knowing well how good your mouth feels, what that sharp tongue of yours can do.

Keegan worked on you, relaxing the muscles enough to allow him to get his whole finger in, coated in your juices, having to mix it with the jelly Simon brought earlier to make it as comfortable as he could for you; two fingers, scissoring you open for his cock to sank in. Soon.

Simon walked over to the table you were displayed on, rough hand running along the curve of your spine as you felt Keegan’s tip probe your ass.

"Ready?" he asked. König stepped back for a moment, letting you take a deep breath as Simon’s hand sneaked in your hair, tucking a few stray, sweat-drenched strands behind your ear as you let yourself be drowned in his eyes.

König’s reassuring words filled your ears, Simon’s stare holding you hostage as you gasped, feeling a sting of pain shoot up your body, chest pushing into the table as your legs involuntary flexed, feet pushing upwards to stand on tiptoes as if your body was trying to run away.

"Careful there, man," Simon said, your eyes squeezed shut, lip sucked in.

"S’alright," you reassured the men around you. Keegan paused for a slight moment, hand sneaking around you to rest on your clit, fingers toying with the pulsating numb of nerves as he sunk the tip in, feeling the delightful squeeze of your insides.

A moan escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as Keegan split you open. His grunts reverberated through you, powerful, rasping growls that sent a wave of desire spiraling through your body until you were burning up with need. His groans seemed to penetrate your core, setting it alight until you were trembling with pleasure.

The moment you felt his hips brush against your asscheeks, you knew; he was fully inside. The feeling foreign yet so intensely erotic. Feeling every inch of him where no one else had ever been.

Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure. You could barely process the conversation between Keegan and the other men, the words fading away as you bathed in the slow, sensuous motions that he was making. His movements were expertly precise, coaxing out every ounce of pleasure from your body as he moved.

Stopping for a moment, Simon's fingertips roamed over your face before you were lifted up, Keegan still seated fully inside you. Sitting down, you felt him sink in deeper than before.

Resting your head on his shoulder, Keegan’s lips brushed over your ear, his legs spreading yours wide apart. Glistening cunt on display, you watched as König moved in front of you, squeezing his cock in his hand, eyes watching your juices drip onto Keegan’s hips.

König guided his throbbing, engorged cock to your entrance, hands resting possessively on your quivering thighs, squeezing them tight and pushing them apart as he sank himself deep into your welcoming walls. His spongy, swollen tip caressed the top of your cervix, eliciting a trembling moan of pleasure from your lips. Both men stayed still inside you, savoring the moment.

The intense heat of their bodies pressed against yours as the sensation of being so full intensified. One hand sneaking into König’s hair, you pulled the man closer, lips crashing against his, a plea to move escaping your mouth between the kisses.

Keegan's hands were firm on your hips as he began to thrust, slowly lifting you up with each motion before delicately letting you sink back onto his lap. Soon enough, both men found a satisfying rhythm, setting your body on fire, skin tingling with pleasure.

König's body took possession of you, his desire and heat radiating off of him and engulfing you. Eyes opened, you sought the last man available; Simon was standing in your arm’s reach, hand wrapped around his already hard, aching cock, his gaze piercing and unyielding as he looked at you.

You were entranced by the sight of him, feeling his need and hunger for you, unable to resist his allure. Arm reaching for him, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing next to you, cock alert and right in front of your face.

Licking your lips, you wrapped your hand around the base before your mouth closed around the tip. Sliding your tongue around him, tasting him, you savored the sensation of his velvety smoothness, your eagerness to please him palpable.

Keegan's hand slowly, teasingly caressed your aching nub, coaxing forth an immense wave of pleasure that washed through your entire body. His words of encouragement, laced with König's melodic German, and Simon's shameless gasps of delight added to the intensity of the moment, and you found yourself consumed by the heat of their bodies, the tight embrace of being sandwiched between them. Every movement, every touch, added to the ever-growing pleasure that was coursing through your veins. You felt like you could burst with the intensity of the sensations, and you never wanted it to end.

"Ich kom-gonna cum inside," König grunted, hips buckling into yours.

Everything felt so unbelievably, mind-meltingly good. You moaned around Simon’s cock as the molten pleasure in your belly grew stronger, your body trembling and tingling with the intensity of it all.

Keegan stilled the moment you opened your mouth, Simon sliding out of you as the filthiest moan left your lips, head thrown back; the feeling of König’s load coating your insides awakening your nerves, setting them on fire as he fucked you through the orgasm.

"Shit," Keegan chuckled, "did you just-"

"I think so," Simon agreed, eyes following the glistening bead of sweat trailing down your temple as your whole body quivered, legs trembling; your pliant form completely devoured by the searing pleasure.

A whimper left your lips as König pulled out, leaving you painfully empty. One last kiss, a thank you, before he retreated to the side, leaving you sitting on Keegan’s lap, his cock still deep inside your ass.

You heard Simon talk, another incoherent order being given out. Watching as he laid down, Keegan guided your hips up. Legs unable to cooperate, the man was forced to basically carry you onto Simon’s lap.

Simon’s cock slipped inside you with ease, König’s and Keegan’s remains mixing with his as all three men felt the sensation of your gummy walls tonight, the tight squeeze you were willing to give, the snug feeling of your heat.

Kneeling behind you, Keegan stared in awe at your body, spread out before him, cunt already taken over by Simon; his thrusts deliberate. Measured. Deep. The tip of his cock kissing your walls with each thrust. The delicious sight of him pleasuring you almost brought Keegan to the brink of ecstasy just by watching.

Using another spoonful of jelly, he coated his cock in it before easing back inside. Keegan felt a thrill of pleasure at the sensation of your tight walls gripping him and the sensation of being so intimately connected to you. His pleasure only increased as Simon's hands guided your movements, the speed willfully increasing.

The rhythm of their combined thrusts grew stronger and faster as Simon felt your walls quiver around him, your moans of pleasure echoing through the heated room. His breathing quickened as Keegan rode the wave of pleasure that was building inside him, the pungent smell of sex so ever-present. He felt a wave of bliss wash over him as he moved closer to climax, Simon's groans of pleasure matching your own.

"Fuck, kitten," Keegan struggled to speak, mind spiraling with pleasure as his lips pressed against the skin between your shoulder blades, "gonna fill you up so good."

With one final thrust, he shuddered, hands squeezing your hips as he tugged you back into his hips, seating himself as deep as he could possibly go. A strangled moan left your lips, eyes locked with Simon’s as the man beneath you stilled, letting Keegan ride his high, use your body to the fullest before he got to his own climax.

Sitting back, Keegan couldn’t help but stare; the sight explicit. Filthy. Watching as his own cum leaked out of your ass and dripped onto Simon’s own cock before the ghost slammed himself fully back in. Simon’s hand sneaked at the back of your neck, bringing your face to his in a teeth-clashing kiss.

Rutting up inside your used and abused body, you let him absolutely ravage you; your body becoming nothing more than a ragdoll, overtaken by a wave of sweet and erotic bliss. His thrusts passionate as he claimed your body with every stroke as if it were his own.

His name left your lips like a prayer, arms too weak to hold yourself up as he drove you to another climax. His lips were hot against your skin, sending a wave of sparks through your veins as you moved closer to the sweet release. You felt the wave rise higher with no indication of stopping, until ultimately, a wave of contentment and delight enveloped you, a feeling of euphoria washing over your entire being.

"That’s it, kitten," his lips brushed your neck, bruised from Keegan’s possessive assault as he marked you everywhere he could reach, the imprints of his teeth slightly visible. An almost animalistic grunt left Simon’s clenched teeth as he took notice.

His thrusts became heavier, hitting the deepest corners of your gummy walls as he felt himself nearing climax. His lips pressed against yours again; his hot breath on your skin, hands tangled in your hair as he moved faster.

He moaned in pleasure as he thrust harder, feeling your body shiver as you laid on him, chest pressed against his. He moved his hands down to the apex of your thighs, pushing himself deeper into you. Simon’s thrusts were relentless as if he wanted to merge himself completely with you. You felt your body heat up as his intensity increased, crying out in pleasure.

"Think you can take me?" he groaned. A moan left your lips as you nodded into the crook of his neck. You felt him tense up as his thrusts became more powerful, and he let out a deep moan as he released himself into you. His body shuddered with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly wild as if he was trying to get as deep as possible.

You felt your body trembling, breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts become sloppier. Shamelessly using the heat of your walls, the tight squeeze of your insides to ride his own high.

"Don’t forget the lady, Lt.," Keegan cheered from somewhere in the room, König’s chuckle following suit; too tired to look around to see where the men retrieved too. Simon’s fingertips danced on your tummy, sliding down before you rolled away from him, a whimper leaving your lips as his softening cock slipped out of your sensitive walls.

"S’okay," you mumbled, fingers grasping his hand to stop him, "I’m good."

"You sure?" he asked, eyes searching your face for confirmation to which you nodded. Closing your eyes, you relished in the feeling of his cum dripping out, already knowing that you were making a mess on the filthy floor of the room.

Simon sat up, hand on your ribs, eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort before he turned his head to the side.

"Keegan, bring me a warm towel," his voice was rough around the edges, "König, a glass of water."

His hand swept away the hair sticking to your face, fingertips dancing along your hairline, "you did good, pet."

A contented smile spread on your face at his words, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks; supporting your back, he help you sit up next to him as both of you waited for the guys to bring what was needed.

"Could do it again, sometimes," you said, head resting on his shoulder as his arm enveloped your upper back, supporting your weight.

"Think you could take it?"

"I think we both know the truth about that."

[konigbabe-interact]

pearls before swine

DAY 6 ⇢ Monster-fucking Pairing: kitsune!Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 2.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; public sex; p-in-v; exhibitionism; dirty talk; hints of praise kink; manhandling; Gojo has a tale (nine of them altogether) and fangs; mention of blood/bleeding; Japanese mythology and folklore Summary: Visiting the Shinto shrine – somehow – leads to you getting wrecked by a mischievous trickster fox on an open balcony and with no shame. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee. Divider is mine. Art credit goes to 月刺啾 (@/x2MciyELLRZRhg1) on Twitter [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

kitsune 狐 /kɪtˈsuː.neɪ/ noun; a Japanese fox spirit capable of shapeshifting into human form and are known to be cunning and playful, mysterious and malevolent.

You've heard the stories. Read about them. Creatures that use their shape-shifting abilities to take on human form and fool people into doing whatever they want. Tricking their prey into surrendering their deepest emotions and desires – the very essence of life itself.

In the midst of the Azalea festival, when the flowers are in full bloom – teal, lilac, and violet hues painting a pastoral picture – it's hard to find a quiet place. Especially near the main sanctuary of the Shinto shrine. Moving near the offering hall, that was when you first spotted him, towering over everyone.

He was standing beside a fox statue, arm draping over the sculpture's head, fingers as slender and agile as a ballet dancer's tracing the contours of the fox's snout. Your senses felt as though they were playing tricks on you as you watched his eyes – so pale they seemed to shimmer like a frozen lake, its lightness bordering on translucence – glide across the courtyard until they reached your kimono-clad body.

But it wasn't his demeanor – dismissive and blasé, laced with a hint of curiosity – that rendered you speechless. No. Rather, it was his appearance – a fusion of the human and the surreal. Japanese have a word for that: ‘yūgen'.

A shock of silver hair framed his face, its strands made of liquid mercury, catching the faint light of the morning sun. Yet, what truly seized your gaze were the symbols on his face – three sapphire tear-shaped drops gracing the lower edges of his almond-shaped eyes, a matching azure line tracing his waterline, gently extending beyond the corners of his eyes. Two cobalt dots adorned each corner of his upturned mouth, while another trio of sapphire lines adorned his forehead, with the middle one flowing onto the bridge of his sharp nose – reminiscent of the wind's delicate patterns. His skin porcelain-smooth and pale, accentuating the ethereal quality of his appearance.

And for some inexplicable reason, you appeared to be the only one capable of seeing him – it. Coming to a halt beneath the torii gate, he turned his head slightly, a strand of silvery hair cascading down over his left eye. The world around you seemed to hush, a stillness setting in; time itself stilling when his eyes locked onto yours from afar, leaving your lips parted in both awe and intrigue.

"You look so pretty," he murmurs, lips gliding over your neck, "when you're at my mercy."

The sharp sting of his fangs gliding under your ear, tracing the probing vein, causes goosebumps to form and travel along the spines of your arms and legs. You feel the warm hiss of his breath, the hot roughness of his tongue against your neck. Toes curling, feet dirty from the ground as the fox pounds into you. Hands gripping the wooden railing of the small balcony that overlooks a pond with koi fish swimming peacefully in.

You're not sure if someone has seen you yet. Seen the lewd image of getting fucked by someone – something – not entirely humane.

The sharp edges of his claws dig into your hips, kimono long discarded on the floor. Naked body swaying in the rhythm to the sharp thrusts. Softness melting into hardness. Satoru – his name echoed in your mind when his hand first touched your skin; as if you were already familiar with the fox – pulls you back to meet his hips, bare body dressed only in his haori, the same sapphire shade as his eyes, draped over his shoulders, arms hidden underneath the silken jacket.

Each stroke of his cock massages your walls, spreading apart the tender flesh between your legs. The ridge of his head presses up against that sweet spot deep inside you. Your thighs press together so you can feel it again. Little sparks of pleasure shoot through your body, making you moan as he brushes over everything that feels good.

"Huh–," his nails, razor-sharp and dangerous, rake over your abdomen. The palm presses flat against the contour of your tummy – hard – as if he's trying to feel how the tip of his cock bruises the opening of your cervix with each thrust. "Eeaasy now," his voice silky smooth just like his skin, "shush, we don't want anyone seeing you like this, right?"

A particularly loud moan emanates from your chest; his words drawn out by the pleasure surging through your veins. Mind feeling too good to be inhibited by anything else.

"Or do you want your friends to see you getting fucked by the devil like me," Satoru's tone lingers in the back of your head. The hand on your abdomen moving downward, toying with your clit. Rubbing circles before pressing against its sides.

You can feel him smile against your neck as he continues to thrust deep into you, each movement harder and faster than the last. His claws dig into your hips, biting into the skin there in a way that's both abrasive and soothing.

"I can't," the breath rushes out of you, leaving your head spinning and the earth swimming as Satoru pulls back to watch you clutch the railing. You're sure you're going to collapse at any moment, but you can feel him watching as your knuckles grind into the wood. Until he’s leaning in again, lips exploring your shoudlerblades,, "I can't–Satoru–hngh."

He's warm. The skin of his chest presses flat against your arching back.He turns his hips into you; the pressure mounts at your core, building up to a burning coil. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin heating up your cheeks, burning your ears as shame tickles at the edges of your mind.

It's blaring. Flashy.

Loud.

"Hehe," he chuckles against your shoulder and you feel his teeth sink into the flesh there, careful not to puncture the delicate skin, "what pretty sounds we make."

And for a moment, you allow yourself to drown. To have the fox ravage you. Cock thrusting deep inside and with each withdrawal, your slickness sloshing out of you. Messy and wet. Coating your thighs in it. And yet it urges Satoru to go harder. Deeper.

Leaning over your body, his hands press along your ribcage before coming to rest on the tops of your shoulders. The weight of him feels like it's anchoring you in place – even though all he’s doing is encircling you with his arms and keeping no distance between your two bodies.

Thick white lashes that frame his eyes hide his true feelings while the half-smile playing on his lips remains unchanged.

His thumbs make tiny circles beneath your breasts, brushing across their undersides. A whimper escapes your lips when he pulls away, pulls out. The sudden emptiness prompting a muffled sound from the back of your throat – which earns you a playful slap on the curve of your ass.

"You're very loud, you know that?"

Satoru turns you around, hands remaining on your ribcage as he lifts you up effortlessly. Legs reflectively wrapping around his narrow hips, feeling his hipbones dig into the fat of your thighs. His presence suffocating the air from your lungs with a humid heat.

Your arms strain as you grip the railing behind you, body in the air while Satoru's arm supports your back, the other hand gripping his slick cock.

"It's not–agh," he pats your aching nub before gliding the tip over your slit, collecting the leaking wetness, "not like that."

He grins at you, eyes staring into yours with twinkles of mischief – or lust? – while smearing prespend over your swollen, empty hole.

"So you're not enjoying this," bending over you, kisses your nerves awake, his cheek nudges your head to the side so his lips can nibble at the taut skin of your jawline. And your eyes widen in shock.

People. More than a dozen people walking towards the chōzuya, a water well adjacent to the worship hall right next to the small sightseeing open building on which's balcony you're currently are in. Naked, legs wrapped around a kitsune, body completely exposed.

Just one look to the left is all anyone needs to do.

"Your body's burning," Satoru's breath scorches your ear. His cock, hard and pulsing, teases your entrance until it aches sweetly, "heh–want me to stop, pretty?"

"Ngh–" you shake your head, "don't stop."

"Good, now–," his lips graze yours the moment he slides the tip of his cock inside. Chest rambling with a sound distinctively similar to purring, "be a good girl and let me fuck you."

With that, he snaps his hips until he's buried inside of your cunt, filling you to the brink. Lowering his mouth to your skin, his fangs once again graze your shoulder blade; move alongside your clavicles until he reaches your sternum. Every deep exhale through his nose leaves an imprint on your flesh. It makes you feel like you're burning. Hot coals pressed against your skin.

His hands grip your ass. Kneading the flesh as he sets a relentless pace. Sinking deep inside with each drive of his hips.

Pushing yourself off the railing, you carefully swing your arms over his shoulders. Chest flush against his, you moan when your sensitive nipples graze the hard muscle of his torso.

"Ahh, Satoru–," your face buries in the mop of his hair when you feel his lips encircle your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue over the mound as he drives his cock in and out of your cunt; so slick and dripping that you feel almost no friction altogether, "feels so good."

His teeth nip at the soft meat of your breast, nipple glossy with saliva as he moves his attention to the other one. You feel it then – or maybe it's been there the whole time – a brush against your thigh; initially thinking it to be his hand. Only they both lay flat against your ass. It's soft. Thick. Bushy. And it wasn't there before, yet it moves around you, slithers until it rests along the length of your thigh.

"You're taking me so well, pretty," his pelvis rubs your clit each time he bottoms out, moving you to sit on the old, creaky wooden railing, allowing his heads to roam your body – which he takes full advantage of – and only tightening the band inside your abdomen, "makes me not wanna feed."

His words fly over your head. Mind fuzzy and empty. Instead, you gasp for breath, the need for air becoming desperate as you clutch onto Satoru, whose relentless thrusts show no signs of faltering.

Toes twitching, your legs tremble around his hips. Moan after moan escaping your throat as your hips grind against his, a pathetic attempt to meet his harsh thrust and grind on his pelvis – to feel at least a tiny slither of pressure against your swollen bud – to which Satoru takes notice. Hand moving to your hip, he squeezes the flesh before moving his thumb over your clit, toying with it.

You feel another bushy tail slither onto your other thigh; it makes your eyes open. That's when you finally take notice of his full nature. He doesn't have actual tails. Instead, something vaguely resembling tails slithers from behind his back. Translucent with blueish hue. You're capable of seeing through them all. The same hue radiates from his skin, from the patterns decorating his face–

Satoru's lips continue their assault on your nipples as curiosity floods your veins.

–it's almost like small clouds taking shape, flying over his body. It's –

"Beautiful," you whimper, feeling him stir underneath your palms. The fox looks up, hips stilling with his full cock warm inside you.

"What did you say," he asks. Eyes leaving the image before you, you cup his face with one hand, locking your gaze onto his – fire meeting ice.

"I said that you're beautiful," your lips trace his nose, the tear-shaped drops underneath his eyes. The dot on the corner of his lips before grazing the soft plumpness of his mouth. It sends tingles through you. A jolt. As if you were touching a sacred artifact, fingers cautiously exploring every curve and contour of his face left behind.

Satoru's breath catches, and he closes his eyes, allowing your exploration to continue for a while.

"Hah," his lips catch yours, an arm sneaking around your middle to bring you closer, the thumb on your clit rubbing and flicking against the nerve, making you whimper into his mouth, "you're the pretty one," he mumbles against your mouth.

Slowly moving his hips back, you feel every ridge and contour of his cock against your insides until only the head remains locked in. Then he snaps. Pushes forward with a newfound fervor.

Satoru's tongue flicks over yours. Sweetness tinges your senses. Like ripe berries on a warm summer day.

"The tasty one," he pulls away, forehead resting against yours as he feels your cunt flutter.

The tension inside your abdomen grows. Coiling around your insides like a tautly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Every deliberate movement from him tightens the invisible band.

With each flick of his thumb, your breath hitches, body quivers in response, cunt tightening around him. Each stroke of his cock. Sharp tongue tracing a searing path over your fevered skin, igniting your senses with each pass. Satoru's focus shifts – from your jaw to your neck, to your sternum, leaving no inch untouched by his maddening touch.

His hand squeezes the pliant flesh of your ass, giving it a gentle slap every once in a while when his cock brushes your cervix. You plead for release, voice a breathless whisper against his mouth. His response a flicker of dominance, fingers teasing your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Satoru–mmph–so close," your lips seal over his marking, eyes squeezing shut to contain the overwhelming sensations, "m'gonna cum."

"Then cum," he encourages, his voice a seductive purr as he flicks your swollen clit, "wanna see the face you make, pretty."

The tension reaches its breaking point with the roll of his tongue over your lower lip. The invisible band stretched to its limit. Every sensation, every touch, and every word weaves together into a pool of desire. Making you teeter on the edge, held captive by his electrifying presence, until finally, with one last snap, the tension shatters like glass. The band snaps.

"Ah, Satoru–"

"Ugh–there we go," pain mixes with pleasure. Fangs sinking into your shoulder, his claws dig into the meat on your hips. It stings when your skin is raptured. Crimson beads trail down towards his pivoting hips, fucking you through the orgasm. Through the overwhelming pleasure. Through your body spasming, cunt contracting against his cock.

He doesn't stop.

Not until the world fades away.

(Guess you should have seen that coming. What is the saying? Never trust a fox.)

"Hey, c'mon. Wake up."

You sense hands on your shoulders, shaking you vigorously. As you reluctantly open your eyes, a familiar face hovers above you, bathed in a soft, afternoon light, accompanied by a group of others. Your friend gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, grounding you as you blink away the remnants of slumber.

Oh no.

Hastily lowering your gaze, relief washes over you when you realise you're fully dressed. But if you're fully dressed…

"What happened?" you croak, voice tinged with confusion, the world still hazy around the edges.

Nothing seems to add up right now.

"You tell me," your friend grins, their features coming into sharper focus as the surrounding crowd gradually dissolves. "You told me you were gonna buy some shinsen for the offering hall but you disappeared. An employee found you here," you scan your surroundings, recognizing the familiar balcony in front of you, "sleeping on a bench. Completely passed out. Out of it. She couldn't even wake you up."

Sleeping on a bench.

"Sorry," you mutter, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes, senses now fully awakened.

Was it all a dream? "Guess I got tired."

It couldn't be a dream. Not when you push yourself to stand up and feel the strain in your legs. Stickiness. Slickness between your thighs.

"What's that?" your friend points towards your clenched fist. Opening your hand, palm up, both of you gaze at a small, iridescent bead with barely discernible sapphire swirls dancing across its smooth surface.

"Don't know."

"Looks like a fox's pearl. They sell those at the charm shop," your friend nods their head towards a nearby charm shop before both of you start walking. Time to go home.

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog

[konigbabe-interact]

'plagiarism' issue

Not one for drama, yet I want to bring attention to this. I won’t elaborate on this issue more.

So it happened.

A while ago but it remains slowly nipping at my brain. For that case, I have decided to write it all down and collect my thoughts using this post.

My work like real people do (and the whole thought/idea behind it) has been taken, rewritten, tweaked and published as someone else's idea (that they apparently had since spring). I asked them to take it down privately. They did add my @ and for some time, I was content until they started creating the whole "universe" around it and taking praise for it even tho it's not their original idea.

The dark side of fanfiction is that there is not much I can do but at least I can make awareness about the issue.

Starting this with some definitions and clearance:

plagiarism: "Presenting work or ideas from another source as your own...by incorporating it into your work without full acknowledgment.[1]"

I love this by Wattpad themself:

What if they give credit?

"It is still plagiarism even if you give credit. Even when someone uses an artist's base or picture they are expected to change it up to become something new, rather than just running it through a filter, or tweaking it with a few minor edits. There is a major difference between copying another person's storyline and making edits and actually writing a story.[2]"

Now to the point:

For LRPD, I have created a very specific premise that I haven't read/seen before:

Leon is a single dad of a young girl (didn't specify age but definitely a preteen, around fourth grade).

He is absent from his daughter's life, especially from her school activities. He becomes this "enigma" for the teachers.

The daughter doesn't have a mother. 

Teacher!reader is concerned for the daughter's wellbeing so one day, when Leon picks her up, she requires to have a talk with him.

During the talk, he offers her a dinner instead of having to participate in school activities.

Teacher!reader and Leon sleep together during the first off-school meeting. 

Teacher!reader wakes up before Leon and looks at his exposed [muscular] back.

Teacher!reader searches for the bathroom, notices Leon’s poorly decorated apartment except for his daughter’s stuff. 

Teacher!reader is reffered to as "Miss teacher" in this universe.

They copied almost THE WHOLE premise. It'd be okay to write your own version of single dad Leon and his kid's teacher - I don't own the trope - but following the SAME ORIGINAL STORYLINE is not okay [with me]...

The parts after "Keep reading" consists of photo 'evidence' of the similarities (some are less obvious but I'll mention them regardless). It is LONG because I have a lot to say.

LRPD was published May 2, 2023, their story was published August 14, 2023.

Fun fact: Few days ago, I created a separate masterlist for the series and few days later, they did the same thing.

: ̗̀➛ Example 1 - Leon sits on the chair

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 2 - Could've been a...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 3 - Leon's absent from his daughter's life, especially from her school activities, and teacher!reader saying that he should be more present...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 4 - Leon snaps because the kid's mother is mentioned (also mention of him having his arms folded during the meeting which the other person mentioned earlier in their work)...

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 5 - Leon invites you to dinner instead of attenting the school event…

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 6 - Aunt Claire makes an appereance (mentioned only)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 7 (NSFW) - Teacher!reader worried where is Leon's kid during heavy make-out session that leads to s*x (they did wrote a full original smut scene, which I skipped so idk if there are any familiarities; I have decided that a full smut scene doesn't do it for me in this story)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 8 - Morning after

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 9 - Leon's apartment description (they basically just simplified my abstact, "show, don't tell" description)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 10 - Aunt Claire calls to tell Leon to pick his daughter in the morning after

My story (LRPD):

Theirs:

: ̗̀➛ Example 11 - AND Miss Teacher's significant petname has an alternative but also makes an appereance (in the same formating on top of that)

My story (LRPD):

Theirs - NSFW (alternative + miss teacher):

They were smart by rewritting it in their own words but it still lays heavy on my chest that a story I have crafted for WEEKS has been taken from me like that. It's more glaring if you read both stories instead of me splitting it into excerpts (and I didn't insert all of them as there is a limit to pictures per post).

Taking inspiration or straight-up rewritting someone's detailed idea is a difference.

Sources:

[1] https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/academic/guidance/skills/plagiarism

[2] https://www.wattpad.com/128409012-how-to-write-fanfiction-plagiarism-vs-inspiration

[konigbabe-interact]

frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023, hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog

[konigbabe-interact]

the fruits (of my labor)

DAY 4 ⇢ Power Dynamic Pairing: deity!Satoru Gojo x fem!acolyte!reader Word count: 2.5k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; deity/acolyte dynamic; deepthroat; throatfucking; riding Gojo’s knee; p-in-v; orgasm denial; creampie; dacryphilia; japanese terminology and mythology; religious imaginery; allusions to manipulation and toxicity; inaccurate historical descriptions Summary: He's a deity, yet he's faithless. The only belief he invests in is between your thighs. Satoru Gojo enjoys the fruits of your labor that you've offering him of late. Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023, hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee.

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You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.

If you were told to describe him, only one word springs to mind – Kami.

Divine.

His gestures – possessing an elegance that rivals the dance of willow branches in a gentle breeze. His voice; a melodious biwa ballad. The way blue hues of his eyes resemble the heavens melting into the boundless sea and the moon's reflection on tranquil waters, a sight that both soothes and enchants –

Satoru Gojo was considered an enigmatic legend in your eyes; among the people from your village. A young boy of mysterious lineage, his parentage shrouded in uncertainty. Some deemed him a yōkai, an unsettling otherworldly presence, while others gravitated towards yūrei, a spectral spirit.

He stands tall and slender, a figure exuding undeniable firmness in every line of his body. Hair the shade of soft grey; it reminds you of the moonlight filtering through the forest's canopy near your mother's okiya house, a teahouse adjacent to the gate of your village. Soft and fluffy; as the memory itself. His locks beckoned, inviting you to run your fingers through them, much like those stolen moments when he allowed you to do so – aware of limb-loosing consequences if any other maiden caught wind of your affiliation with Gojo.

Eyes mostly hidden underneath a woven silken cloth. Only allowed to see the day's sun when all others have been blinded; only a selected few made aware of Gojo's countenance.

("It's in the interest of my own well-being," he mumbles against the tender curve of your neck. Teeth grazing the marks there.

His cloth mask's fastened over the bridge of your nose, denying you eyesight. Hands sliding beneath the scarlet hakama, altered into a flowing skirt, enabling him to grasp your bare thighs with a grip so tight it threatens to leave lingering imprints. He's wrenching his pelvis up, engorged cock sliding against the sensitive walls of your drenched core as he moves you up and down his lap.

Robe shamelessly untied and disheveled but still hanging from his shoulders; with your arms clinging to the garment for dear life, a lifeline that anchors you as he delves so deeply that it elicits a desperate mewl from your lips, pushing aside any lingering questions.

"I cannot allow commoners to pose threats to my safety. After all, I am but a Kami." His hand raises one of yours, placing your palm flat against his. In that instant, you feel it—the non-existent space between your palms expanding, pushing your hand away from his. An invisible barrier materializing and separating your limb from his. It makes your fingers tingle.

"Who would–umph–desire to hurt you, my honored one."

A forceful push surges from behind you — or at least it feels that way — propelling your body towards Gojo's body. Lips colliding with his, all tenderness vanishing from his actions. His strong arm encircles your waist, lifting you up and creating the sensation of flying through the air. In one fluid motion, he turns you both around, deepening the kiss when his tongue plunges between your gasping lips.

"No one would dare, angel.")

– His taste. Briny yet the pearlescent droplets of his prespend sweet. With your cheeks hollowed, nails digging into the meat of his thighs, you savor the saline tang of him on your tongue. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks; eyelashes fluttering as he thrusts his hips upwards. Hand on the crown of your head pushing down simultaneously.

The swollen tip of his leaking cock plunges into your throat, scratching the sensitive back of it, and causing an involuntary gag reflex, throat instinctively closing.

"Just like that," Gojo groans in response to the sensation of your tight throat suffocating his cock, his arm positioned behind his head while the other moves to cup your cheek. His thumb tenderly wipes away a tear tracing a path down your face.

You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.

Leaving only his tip inside, you suck; draw him in, the tip of your tongue swirling over his slit as you let all the saliva gathered in your mouth coat his head, letting it dribble from the corners of your mouth onto his cock. Using your hand to spread the slick, covering his entire length in the mixture with your tongue concentrating on the spongy spot under his tip, slowly moving down until your lips meet your fingers wrapped around his hilt.

With bated breath, you ease your throat open wider, feeling the mushy head breach the gateway to your trachea; the friction growing more intense as he pushes past your tonsil area. Swallowing carefully, you take him in until his pelvis presses flush against your nose. You add a low hum to the mix, your fingernails lightly grazing the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling it tighten as he twitches inside you. Something swells in your chest, expands and tightens over the feeling. Pride? More like a fervent devotion that borders on reverence.

"You little akuma–" he lets out a breath, fingers tracing the bulging curve of your throat before you pop him out with a wet sound. You repeat after – take him fully down your throat, keep him there and humming; vibrations shooting up his every nerve ending.

And the sounds he makes – the groan he lets out is drawn-out and echoing. You kiss his cock one more time before nipping at his sensitive area just below his abdomen, muscles hardened and shaped into a v. A place stained by the nips of your teeth, nicks of your nails; a teasing breeze caressing the shoreline.

Face moving upwards, your lips ache to meld with his. Yet as his breath mingles with yours, his fingers snake around your throat, tightening their grip.

Gojo holds your face intimately close to his that you can discern the white sparkles seemingly dancing within his eyes.

So close that you can distinguish myriad shades of blue within his iris, reminiscent of the Pleiades, or the very hue of the sky on a day when wisteria blooms swell.

"What are you doing," his head tilts to the side, lips tracing the corner of your lip until moving to your jaw. Soft gentle nibbles in contrast with the tight grip on your throat as you remain on all fours above his body that's still adorned in his night robe but completely untied.

A light breath escapes your yearning lips, eyes searching his face for any imperfections, any blemish in his otherwise divine visage – but finding none. Heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment, you believe that he's capable of hearing the beats. Thump, thump.

"Akami," you mumble, eyes falling to his lips when the tip of his tongue peaks out to slide over them, "kiss."

You remain motionless, almost paralyzed by the heated tension in the air, afraid to make a move or even swallow. Your cunt drenched, folds glistening with need to be filled. It pulsates, thumping steadily as if your heart dropped between your legs.

Gojo's eyes, once filled with desire, now appear almost bored, as if he's testing your resolve.

"Do you believe you are deserving of a kiss from Akami?"

Your head sways from side to side instinctively before you even fully process his question. Thighs failing to press together to relieve some of the tension as his wide frame blocks your attempts.

"I would not pose such queries without belief in their pertinence, correct?"

You nod. His face contours, creases between his brows. Bending one leg, he brings his knee to your cunt. Pressing onto the pulsating nerve on top, making you mewl and moan from finally getting some release. Your hips shamelessly grind onto his offering knee, painting it in your juices.

"Speak," he corrects you, putting his knee higher — forcing your calves to strain in order to remain on the soft cushion.

"You are—mmph—," Gojo's eyes flick down to see the way your pussy parts for his knee, circling it and disturbing your chain of thoughts, "—you are correct, Go—gojo."

"Good," his thumb presses against your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part more before he pushes the digit flat against your tongue, "then undertake a deserving act."

Satoru Gojo refuses to allow your lips contact with his. Even after what feels like hours – when he's already painted your body in his pearlescent spent, now slickening your gummy walls and sticking to his cock like honey – he's continuing to pound into you with relentless strength.

And yet he still doesn't let you reach the sweet high. Unable to tumble into the abyss of ecstasy. Your body his canvas, on which he paints strokes of desire – a merciless dance on the edge of rapture; where you can feel the waves building and receding like a capricious ocean tide.

("Patience, my angel. You're too pure to be stained. My forsaken tenshi.")

Robe finally discarded, he has you positioned to bend over the side of the yaedatami; high enough for your back to arch forcibly. The stretch across your abdomen feels like a taut bowstring. Ass up, held aloft and elbows pressed against the floor. Your hands grope desperately for purchase – yet finding nothing in this empty sleeping chamber – as Gojo looms over you, one arm bracing his weight beside your head, the other cradling your cheek as he spreads you wide for his cock to plunge insanely deep into your leaking cunt.

His thrusts are relentless, each one driving his cock impossibly deep. So deep it makes you feel as if the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, a blunt pressure inside building with each pivot of his hips. It builds steadily inside you, like a dam about to burst. And the loudness of your moans only assures the man in your body's response to him – his body, his heat. His cock. All of him.

"Just like that–," Gojo's voice's raspy, throat strained from the sounds of pleasure he's given you, "stay down—ugh–"

His words cause your back to arch more; prideful in his praise. The pleasure profound, toe-curling and spiraling through your body.

"Gojoo–," you try to meet the aggressive roll of his hips, even if the position doesn't let you move too much, "please–'m so close–please…"

You're begging, whining for him to never stop. To – for once – listen to his acolyte's pleas for release. And just as he senses your cunt quivering, throbbing with the impending orgasm, he draws a sharp thrust. Body heavy against your bottom, bottoming out before pulling out.

His response is a single word, "No" escaping his lips. Sitting back on his legs, his eyes lock onto the sight of your cunt – spread open, his own cum trickling from the fluttering, empty hole, glistening as it strains your inner thighs; pussy puffy and swollen from overstimulation. Chest puffing out, he basks in the tableau before him.

"I shall have a painter immortalize such image," he muses, leaning closer. Fingers tracing the curve of your calves, gliding over the skin of your thighs, bathing in the slickness of your inner thighs. He swipes the blend of his cum and juices from your cunt, collects them on his fingers.

In a commanding gesture, he raises you up, positioning you to sit atop your legs, mirroring his own stance. His wet fingers dance along your parted lips as you grow more desperate.

"Please–," you beg more, licking the saline sweetness off your lips, throat parched, "please–."

Gojo doesn't respond – not immediately. Instead, he turns you to face him with your back. Pulling your body onto his sitting lap and thrusting his cock into your abused cunt without any resistance. Your body strains as your back arches, head falling back to rest against his neck as his hands grasp both of your biceps, securing you to his chest as he thrusts upwards.

"You reach your release only when I deem it," his lips trace your neck, biting the sensitive flesh as he moves you up and down his lap. You can feel his cock scratching that insatiable itch deep inside you, each punishing thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The emptiness that follows only stokes the fervor building within you, a desire that only HE can satiate.

And does he take his time…

Legs pushed against your chest, his body weighs down on you – folded almost in half. Tears of exhaustion and bliss course down your cheeks, his name on your lips. Moaning, gasping, arching your back as you lose yourself to the euphoria that builds inside. His cock pushes against your clenched walls, swelling and so close to releasing and coating your walls with his sore.

But Gojo holds tight to his resolution; muscles taut under your trembling body; your fragile body. You're his to do with as he pleases, after all.

"Ahh–close, Gojo–please," you plead, feeling his cock plunge into your core, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root, "I want to–ugh–I can't–"

He cuts you off with a rather painful thrust, the head of his cock bruising your cervix, it seems. Making you gasp at the suddenness and pain. It's afterward that he slows down, rapid thrusts becoming languid rolls of his hips. He moans, gruff and low in his throat as he pushes himself deeper inside of you with each movement.

"You cannot what?" His eyes gleam even as he gives you a momentary reprieve. The thrumming pleasure from being so completely filled subsides, but not entirely leaving altogether – just enough to remind you that Gojo's presence is still there.

"I can't–," you whimper in his ear as he moves onto his elbows, straining your hamstrings until you feel as if he's gonna tear your legs apart, "I can't…"

"You cannot what?" Gojo demands, his cock stilling inside you, only to resume as he leans you forward, "tell me, my faithful one."

"No more–please," your lips search for his; to which his head fives to your clavicles, nibbling the tender and sensitive skin there, "I need the release, please," you beg with a strained voice.

His eyes flutter shut, teeth catching hold on your shoulder, harder than they should, "beg one more time. Let me hear your prayers."

He's waiting for a particular syllable and sounds; the first syllable of his name. For it to flow out of your lips.

"Please–," your voice becomes but a mere exhale, body spent; falling to his mercy. Shaking as you beg for this man to take whatever he wants. The only reason you're even able to speak is to plead for release, having nothing else to offer but yourself freely to him. A twisted, filth-covered shinsen.

In the end, Gojo eventually does take your offering, grants you your release.

Being that way for several moons.

[konigbabe-interact]

the great war

DAY 3 ⇢ Hate Sex Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!curse user!reader Word count: 4k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; hate sex; timejump (2007 → 2018); lovers to enemies vibes; angst; lots of self-loating; pronebone; p-in-v; angry (??) Gojo; unreliable narrator Summary: When the news of Suguru Geto's death reach your ears, the weapon in your grasp guides you to the place where the cause lies - to Satoru Gojo. Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023, hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee. I blame the pronebone idea on @kazushawty, thank you.

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His palm presses firmly between your shoulder blades, a commanding touch that demands submission, while his other hand clamps onto your hips, fingers digging into the curves of your flesh with just the right amount of pressure.

September 2007

Buddhists believe that life is filled with suffering and misery. That death, in the end, is not a singular event, but rather a fundamental contribution to the misery of human existence.

It was a doctrine you refused to believe in. Spending days by the side of fellow sorcerers, suffering and misery rarely crossed your mind. It wasn't that you were naive or ignorant – quite the contrary. As a sorcerer-in-training, you were acutely aware of the dangers and horrors that lurked in the shadows. Cursed spirits, malevolent curses, and the constant struggle to protect the oblivious, helpless civilians were all part of your reality.

However, you clung to an alternative belief – that while suffering is an inherent aspect of life, whether it leads to misery rests entirely within your control –

Among your companions, your unwavering optimism often stood out. While others carried the weight of their pasts and the darkness of their experiences, you chose to embrace hope and resilience. This outlook didn't make you blind to the reality of suffering; rather, it gave you the strength to confront it head-on. At least you had something to hold on to.

– How stupid of you.

With Satoru's chest pressed firmly against your back, you watch the night sky unfold its kaleidoscope of stars above you. It's not often that the night is quiet; when even the stars shine through the clouds of haze and graze you with their gentle glow.

Arms casually thrown over your shoulders, his sharp chin digs into the crown of your head as he looks up at the sky. Your face tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Suguru leans against the railing to your right. Uniform rumpled, hair a cascade of frowzled strands; your eyes shamelessly roam over his face – pale (more than usual, and even more visible against the obsidian backdrop of the night), eyes staring vacantly forward, a well of shadows pooling beneath.

His appearance resembles a spectral apparition. Haunting reflection of the turmoil that seems to have taken residence within him. Events from the past emerge into your mind – Tengen' merger, Amanai's death, Toji, Gojo's enlightenment and the last piece, Haibara's tragic end.

Satoru's hand reaches to gently cradle yours, fingertips tracing the contours of the simple, polished ring adorning your finger. A single aquamarine gemstone decorating the silver band, its shape resembling a tear. His touch so soft and tender that it feels almost imperceptible.

"Hey," Satoru's voice tears you from your thoughts. Suguru's eyes dart to yours, a brief contact before he looks at Satoru, "are you even listenin'?"

("So you never thought ‘bout it?" Suguru's head sinks heavily onto his arms, the once-pristine white shirt now marred by wear of time and crinkled as he sits against the classroom wall. Class ended almost an hour ago, with Satoru leaving by Shoko's side to grab lunch.

"I mean," you release a deliberate sigh, ankles crossed on top of your desk with arms folded over your chest, "it might be an option," rising one hand, you point a finger at him, "but it's evil. And unreachable. Like c'mon," you flick your wrist dismissively, "we're talking about a worldwide genocide."

"Not worldwide, just Japan."

A derisive chuckle escapes your lips, laden with incredulity, upon hearing his words. "Just Japan," you look at your classmate, close friend, "are you hearing yourself, Suguru?"

He gazes up at you, eyes heavy with weariness and emptied of their usual vibrancy. The burden of his thoughts etched onto his face.

"Suguru," your tone drops, voice becoming a mere whisper; the man before your eyes being close to a delicate thread on the verge of snapping, "are you holding up okay?"

"No.")

"Yeah, yeah," you murmur into his skin, returning his touch and caressing his wrist.

"As I was sayin'," your eyes return to Suguru momentarily before flicking to the horizon of darkness stretching above the school's grounds, "once we finally graduate and I become the head of my clan, we could use my estate as our home. Then we can make loads of babies. Pretty sure my father would be pleased if I had a son."

"It's not your estate," you correct Satoru.

"It's a Gojo estate. And I'm a Gojo. The one with Six eyes and the future leader," his fingers sneak under your chin, gripping the soft flesh of your neck to tilt your head to the side and up, gently straining your neck so that you're compelled to look at him. Eyes the same hue of a tranquil ocean under the moonlight.

"I'll put in the work," his tone turns into a whisper, a murmur that wraps around your body like a velvet night, shielding your conversation from intruding ears – including Suguru, who's standing barely an arm's reach away. The man who now feels like an outsider to the intimate exchange of his friends, "get you all full and happy. You won't leave the bedroom until you go into labor."

It's not his words that render you speechless. Immobile. Mouth slightly ajar. Nor the promise they carry, or the weight of the commitment. It's solely the look in his eyes. As if this man truly believes his words. That he sees this not as an equal partnership, but you as the vessel for his legacy, a mother to his progeny, a means to secure his lineage.

The jujutsu society has carved a mark deep within Satoru Gojo's psyche, even if it's been only a subconscious influence.

"Satoru,"a subtle frown creases your forehead, despite the way his words ignite a fire between your legs, make your pussy throb, "I'm not a breed–"

"Some people believe that the stars are the souls of the people who've passed on," Suguru's words cut through the exchange. Pulling your eyes towards his profile, seeing as he continues to watch the night sky, hands tucked away in his pockets. A gentle smile graces his face.

While you're thankful for his precisely timed intervention, Satoru sneaks a hand onto your abdomen, resting in inside your muff pocket with palm squeezing the soft flesh over the clothes. He releases a theatrical breath, capturing the attention of both of you.

"Way to ruin the mood, Suguru," he adds after a while.

"I think there might be some truth to that," you offer a small, appreciative smile.

In the days that follow your conversation, a dark cloud of dread casts its shadow over your every moment, only fueled by the devastating news of Suguru's most recent mission. After that, each moment's laden with a sense of impending unease. As if the future has already been foretold – only a matter of time before the summons arrives, the call to a meeting that you can already taste like the metallic tang of apprehension on your tongue.

Stepping into the room, it's not just the mission that settles heavily upon your shoulders; it's the weight of an unspoken truth that hangs in the air, casting a pall over the proceedings. Staring upon the silver band encircling your finger, cutting off the flow of blood, it's the revelation that has changed everything for you.

The task assigned to you appeared simple, straightforward, presented with a cold and calculated logic: Kill Suguru Geto and return within fourteen days.

(Reality has a way of deviating from the plans made.

It is why you never came back.)

Early 2018

The ghost of Suguru Geto hovers over you like a specter in the periphery of your thoughts. Especially when you stand in front of the man you've avoided for almost a decade.

There's no solid reason for you to be here. In Satoru Gojo's overly expansive, unnecessarily spacious penthouse. His ignorance to wealth and what's necessary versus what's superfluous still glaringly obvious. Especially with his current job; one that back in the day, back when you were all still students, wouldn't even cross his mind.

You weren't entirely certain if he'd be here today. Tonight. Tracking his movements, they'd always end within the barrier of Tokyo's Jujutsu Tech. A barrier that, if crossed, would result in your immediate arrest and subsequent execution. And despite your occasional recklessness, you had no death wish to speak of.

"That's why you're here?" Gojo's glasses now replaced by a black blindfold, folded around his neck. His eyes, shining even in the dim lighting, twinkle with raging stars when they shift to the weapon in your hand, sensing its foreign cursed energy that overwhelms even your own, "to kill me?"

A sardonic snicker escapes you, your laughter bordering mockery as you respond, "Come on, Gojo. Don't get foolish now. I can't kill you."

With a touch of exasperation, you add, "No one can."

"Then why're you here," he demands, his presence commanding the room. Uniform jacket already cast aside, the white button-up shirt partially undone, showing the contours of his clavicles. Time and age have done the sorcerer good; with gained knowledge, he also gained the physicality of experience. Something that creates longing – desire for the past that surges through you. A tidal wave of yearning. A wish that you stayed; that you were there, by his side, witnessing his transformation.

(Could it be the grip of regret? The sting of rue? Perhaps. But the past already happened, ensnared within the grasp on time's flow; its passing moments already etched into the annals of history. Dwelling on it now serves no purpose but to churn the tempestuous sea of emotions.

The sea whose waves are starting to crash against the rocky shores of the present.)

"You disappeared years ago. Without a word. Not even a goddamn ‘Goodbye'."

You watch his cold, distant façade crumble, anger seeping through the cracks as he waves one hand, advancing with measured steps, "I looked for you. Scoured every inch of Japan. For you. Where in the world were you?"

Gojo's eyes blaze with molten determination; boring into your soul, seeking answers you're hesitant, almost reluctant, to provide. Doubt lingers in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog, clouding the once familiar connection between you two.

A connection that you severed with a violent, rapid stroke, leaving nothing but shattered remnants in its wake.

"You had no right to do that," he seethes, words dripping with indignation.

"You are the one to talk," you return his anger, the relentless tide crashing against unyielding cliffs, "you killed him. You killed Suguru, Gojo."

His face contorts with fury, a wildfire raging behind his eyes. The air crackles with tension as your words cut deep, reopening wounds that had never truly healed.

It's then that the distance between you two narrows until he's almost within reach; enough for your fist to connect with him. Fully aware that it would never actually reach him. His flesh. That you won't feel the warmth of his skin. With the jutte sword's blade facing you, fist tightening around the leather handle, you hit and hit a void.

"You killed my friend," your voice trembles with a mixture of sorrow and rage, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The side of your fist repeatedly collides with empty air – it's a cruel dance, truly – a void that fills the space between Gojo and you, a chasm that feels as vast as the abyss, "my friend. Suguru. You killed him–took him away."

Your eyes lock onto his, a desperate search for answers, while Gojo remains a silent and immovable figure. Face resembling carved marble – all solid, perfect yet devoid of any emotion. Letting you spill your anger onto him. You observe as the brilliance in his eyes wanes, those once-vivid blue hues, reminiscent of a precious topaz, gradually losing their luster, darkening, and becoming more reflective of a human's ordinary iris.

Your fist meets the muscle of his chest.

"I hate you," one, two times your fist hits, "I hate you so much, Gojo."

Then his fingers slither around your wrist, twisting it painfully until the loud clank against the floor indicates that your weapon has slipped from your grasp.

"I know," his voice remains monotonous; a mere echo.

He advances, closing the distance between you, his presence a relentless force pressing against you. Eyes a tempest of longing; a tangible aura of desperation that shouldn't flicker across his stoic countenance. All you want to do is stab the look out of his eyes. Gauge it out with your fingers. Stealing away what he so callously takes for granted –

Maybe then he will stop being blind to his surroundings.

– just as he robbed you of your childhood friend. Someone you considered a brother.

"I hate myself too." It's all he mumbles, his voice a barely audible confession, before his lips crash into yours. A tumultuous collision. His hands are everywhere, grasping your shoulders, trailing down your arms, and gripping your hips with an urgency that borders on desperation. Pushing and pulling; body pressed against yours.

Gojo's tongue sweeps over your teeth, the wet tip coaxing yours, drawing forth moan after moan from you, hungrily swallowing every sound you release, trying to quench an insatiable thirst that only your moans can satisfy.

The kiss ravenous, consuming – it makes you unable to resist the magnetic pull of his ardor.

When your name slips between his lips, the reality crashes onto you. Pulling away, you look into his blazing eyes. Lips bruised and swollen, shirt somehow unbuttoned. Showing the contours and hard edges of his chest and abdomen. The scar across his whole upper body, though healed, remains visible. Body sculpted into perfection by years of determined training.

Your hand reaches forward. Fingertips tingling with the longing to make contact, to savor the tactile sensation. And Gojo stands still, a hand resting on your hip, molding your form against the sturdy frame of the couch. Your thighs caught between his, pressed against the velvety embrace of the dark brown upholstery.

Both of your disheveled hairdos mirror the chaos, intensity of the moment, framing your faces with unruly tendrils. Eyes fixated upon his body, hesitating to meet his eyes. Your arm extends more. An outstretched limb seeking connection.

His scrutinizing eyes trace the landscape of your face – witnessing as time stripped away the youthful, once-cheerful smile that had once adorned your lips. Now swollen, hardened lines with two delicate, faint marks traversing your upper lip – a scar. Curiosity gnaws on him, wondering of its origin. If whatever caused it might've been circumvented if you'd stayed.

If you had stayed.

(Maybe if he searched more thoroughly. Fought with greater determination…)

Your hand jerks back. Recoils as if touched by scorching heat. Gaze turning into a torrential downpour as it locks onto his, a deepening frown carving lines across your brow.

"No," he swears he hears you mutter to yourself, lips finding refuge at the juncture of his clavicles. Hands slipping beneath the satin shirt, clenching the taut muscle of his shoulders. One leg draped across his hip, you grind against his thigh without reservation, embracing the sensation of friction against your clothed core, the fabric beginning to absorb your burgeoning desire.

"What–"

"Just fuck me," you nibble at the skin, voice thick with passion, teeth sinking into the flesh and pulling, causing the man to hiss, "fuck me, Gojo."

He grips your jaw. A touch both benevolent and directing. Pulls you off his neck, compelling you to confront the storm of his eyes. Vortex of unspoken emotions. A cyclone of pure desire and passing hesitation. His thumb and index finger press into the soft flesh of your cheekbones, compressing the pliant contours until your lips pucker and part.

"I hate you," you manage to utter, the words emerging as a strained whisper through clenched teeth.

In the ensuing moment, Gojo acknowledges your declaration with a solemn nod, a silent recognition.

"Good," he then pivots you in one fluid motion. Hands finding purchase on the couch's armrests. Gone is the restraint he's maintained until now. He doesn't hold back. Not anymore, not when you made it abundantly clear how you feel; what you want.

His palm presses firmly between your shoulder blades, a commanding touch that demands submission, while his other hand clamps onto your hips, fingers digging into the curves of your flesh with just the right amount of pressure. With an irresistible force, he bends your body to his will.

Fingers seeking the buttons on your pants, swiftly unzipping the zipper and tugging both your pants and undergarments down your thighs. Until they lock your knees together. His fingers graze your folds and you feel him hiss under his nose. Fingertip tracing your opening, feeling the slippery wetness, Gojo doesn't hesitate to push one finger in.

And your body eagerly sucks him in. Allows him to thrust his finger in and out repeatedly, making your fingers dig into the cushion, lips parted and shamelessly moaning with hips bucking back, meeting his thrusts. Until he adds another finger, scissors them inside and opens you up.

"Fuck," you hear him breathe out, his hand sneaking from your shoulder blades to your hip, venturing beneath your shirt to caress the exposed skin, "you always sound so pretty. Feel so good."

"Shut up," you scoff at his words, voice laced with disdain, "just–ugh," his fingers curl inside, massaging your walls in harmony with the hand on your hip, tracing tantalizing circles, "ah–just don't–don't talk," and you arch your hips backward, prompting his fingers to delve deeper. Palm completely covering your soaked cunt.

"Don't care," you add when he continues the rhythm. In and out, stretching the limits of your resilience, scissoring to accommodate something far more substantial.

"As you wish," he withdraws. Fingers glistening with your juices. And you can feel the dewy slickness spreading as he toys with your pulsating clit, circling the throbbing bud, causing you to clench around empty air. Every nerve ending in your body awakens, dormant embers being stoked; heat blooming inside.

Then he presses himself against you, hands grasping your shoulder to pull you onto his body as he hovers over you. The close proximity allowing you to feel the hard length of him, thick and pushy, begging for entry.

"Stop teasing," you practically growl at him, an annoyed command laden with unrestrained desire.

"Fine," Gojo lets out a husky huff in response to your impatient plea. Pushing your upper body down, nearly bending you over the plush cushion until your forehead meets the silky surface of his furniture. You can hear the unmistakable sound of him unzipping his own pants, the slide of the zipper seemingly never-ending as your pussy leaks onto your thighs, mind of its own; tugs them down just enough for him to fish out his cock. All hard and swollen, the engorged tip glistening with the telltale evidence of his arousal.

One hand palms your pussy, collecting your juices to spread over his cock. Lube it enough for him to slip inside your awaiting walls easily. Yet he hovers over your entrance, tip kissing the opening before running between your folds. Gojo lets out a sigh upon the long-lost feeling of your wet pussy.

It's been too long.

He wants to savor it. Savor the moment your drenched pussy opens up just for him. Swallows him whole and lock him in, never letting him go.

"Gojo," you push back, hoping that maybe it will cause him to slip in – it doesn't. Instead, the tip of his cock probs at your clit, "fuck me."

"You never shut up, heh," his hand secures the back of your neck, the other guiding his cock to your entrance, feeling you open up around the mushroom head, letting a satisfied moan out upon the feeling.

Gojo doesn't bother. At least he shouldn't, right? It's not like he's your lover. You aren't his paramour no more.

But he does take his time. Every inch a struggle, every second a torture. Until finally you feel yourself split open, the tightest of knots unraveling, and then he's thrusting deep, pushing into you with force. Your body welcomes him, contouring to his shape, embracing him fully. His breath comes out in a rush and you're soon meeting him thrust-for-thrust, hips pushing back.

Blood rushes to your head; bend at an unconventional enough angle that allows him to hit the deepest spots inside you. He pulls back then, his cock easily sliding out of your embrace until only the tip remains inside the cocoon of your warmth. Stretching your inner walls in a way that makes you feel dizzy, mind foggy. Fucked stupid.

Your moans are muffled by the couch cushion, but Gojo pays no attention; his focus solely on chasing his own high, eyes closed to draw your presence out. His thrusts become more powerful and insistent as each one hits its mark with precision.

Your name refuses to leave his lips.

Yet his name sounds like a sacred incantation spilling from your throat.

It makes him push. Hips slamming into yours with enough force to actually send you over the couch's edge; causing you to stumble.

"What the f–"

"Lie down," he commands. Stone-cold and demanding. Your body moves on its own accord as you do what you're told, lying flat on your stomach as his hand guides your body up his couch. Face sinking into the decorative pillows, he lies his weight on top of you without shame. Elbow resting next to your head, fingers tangled in your hair – pushing your face into the pillows.

Slamming his cock back inside, a surprised shriek leaves your lips. His legs on either side of your thighs, one arm holding his upper body slightly off you, the other gripping your hip, fingers biting crescent moons into your flesh.

His breath's hot against your neck, coming out in quick gasps and grunts, the growl in his throat driving you wild and you're not sure how much longer you can take it before you beg for it –

"Fuuck–so tight–ngh–"

His hand is everywhere while yours remain tucked underneath the pillows; nails tracing their way around sensitive skin and curves like a map of pleasure points.

– so you bite your lip. Face flushed against the couch's cushions. Feeling yourself cresting towards the edge. He hitches a breath as your moan’s muffled beneath the pillows, his own rhythm faltering before he plunges deeper.

"M’gettin’ close–"

You can feel the heat radiating from him, sweat dripping down your neck as he takes you higher, presses his forehead against your nape. Heat rises to your face as you feel yourself dripping. Acutely aware of yourself, the slick, shameful squelches that resonate each time Gojo plunges deep inside. Buries himself to the hilt. Pelvis melting with the curve of your ass. Smacks his balls against your thighs.

The air feels thick and stifling as you feel Gojo everywhere. Your entire being consumed by the feverish desire coursing through your veins.

His thrusts become more intense, almost frenzied as he searches for something only he knows and finds it in your body. You're so close now, the pleasure so sweet that it's almost overwhelming.

You swear it feels like an eternity before finally your orgasm rushes over you like an unstoppable tide; overwhelming every single one of your senses as he continues to thrust deep within you. Your entire body quaking beneath him, pulled even closer into him by some invisible force.

Gojo finally lets go with a loud groan and collapses onto your back; leaving him panting heavily against your neck while his cock remains firmly embedded inside of you for a few moments more, painting your walls in translucent white before slowly slipping out with a wet sound akin to pure satisfaction.

You lay there unmoving for some time; eyes closed and lips pressed tight together as if to contain all the pleasure of this moment forevermore in one single solitary heartbeat – before reality comes crashing back in around you both in an instant, making Gojo pull away.

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog

[konigbabe-interact]

when we play

DAY 2 ⇢ Bondage Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 2.1k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; slight crack; shibari/bondage; soft!Gojo; playful!Gojo; p-in-v; riding Gojo; use of lube; blowjob; handjob Summary: It's your turn to take the charge. Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023, hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee. Art credit goes to xy_555 on Poipiku [source] (altered by me to fit the story).

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The daylight gradually fades, surrounding to the cloak of Tokyo’s nocturnal embrace as night claims its dominion. It's during these hours that you find yourself enveloped in Satoru’s embrace; feeling the roughness of his fingertips chart pathways over your curves, while his lips map every reachable inch he can reach. Legs parted to accommodate his hips as he plunges into you with a hunger that belies the familiarity of your recent encounters.

(Though truth be told, you did fuck the night before. Satoru’s never wavering stamina a testament to his devotion to your body. To his desire to please and imprint himself onto you. Mark your soul with his very essence. Claim you as his own.

It’s become almost a routine for you two.)

This time, there’s a shift in the dynamic. After days of persuasion, it’s your turn to take the reins. To be the one on top.

"Okay," your attention shifts from the book's pages to the man beneath you, a playful smile curving your lips as you analyze the interplay of similarities and distinctions between the reference photo and the living canvas before you, cheekily smiling at your frowning face. His legs are bent slightly at the knees, allowing you to sit comfortably on top with one hand resting flat against his chest, keeping him at anappropriate distance for you to see him whole. "It shouldn't be too tight but it should be snug enough. Is it?"

Satoru responds by nodding; his acknowledgment underscored by a hint of playful surrender.

"Yep, I am bound to your mercy."

Eyes fluttering with his exaggerated tone, you reach for the bottle on your right. Your legs part more, accommodatingly draped over his hips. With deliberate intent, you slide your drenched core over his hard, exposed cock; from head to hilt, coaxing a gratifying groan out of Satoru.

"Stop joking. It's making me dry," you bite back, looking at his blindfolded face. Tapping his inner thigh with, "spread ‘em more," he obliges.

Your knees pressing into the mattress, Satoru rests against the pillows as he allows himself to surrender to your endeavors. Acceptance of the moment washes over him, the peaceful slumber of a satisfied sloth. The strongest, bound and compliant. Deserving of your attention. For tonight, he abandons the armor of pride, allowing vulnerability to be his shield.

"Doubt that, can feel you drippin' on me," he doesn’t forget to retort before he feels your fingers encircle his cock, tightening around the hilt with hot breath touching his slit.

You lick a thick stripe all the way to his engorged tip. The amalgamation of musk and saltiness graces your taste buds. The taste plays heavy on your tongue; potent flavor lingering even when your lips leave his cock.

"Are you really gonna talk back now?"

The words slip from your lips, a teasing question shrouded in amusement.

Hand sliding up, thumb applying gentle pressure to that sensitive spot beneath his tip – the one that makes him stutter, choke on his words.

Which he does. Barely manages a tremulous "No" out of his throat upon the feeling. The tip of your tongue ventures forth, grazing his slit and collecting the milky beads there before you swirl around the crown. Dipping down, your lips trace one of the distinct veins on his underside.

All while your hand toys with his tip. Teases it. Plays a dance of touch and pressure. It throbs under your touch – a touch that turns Sattoru’s breaths into pants. Head resting on the headboard, the protruding larynx bobbing with each deliberate swallow.

"Fuck–mpfh–use your mouth, pet," he groans, "please," he begs, pleas hanging in the air like a siren’s song.

And even though it’s your night to do as you please with him, you listen. Find yourself heeding his request. Humming against him when your mouth takes his tip inside, sucking and bobbing – moving back and forth – until his tip plunges into your palette with each motion. Each time, you relax your jaw more; it allows you to take more of him in. Work the opening of your throat.

It’s not long before his pleas begin to transform – from mere breathy groans into a symphony of encouragement. Laced with the subtle shift in his tone whenever your name leaves his lips.

"Damn, you’re s’good at this–," the words roll off his tongue, laced with admiration and need. Arms fighting against the restraints that bind them behind his back, entwining around his torso. "Need to have you give head more often," he acknowledges, a tease that carries a hint of yearning.

A playful grin traces your lips as you absorb his words.

"If you behave," you tease out. Kissing the leaking slit one more time before pulling back; savoring the taste of his arousal – brackish yet addictive – against your lips before leaving Satoru’s cock untouched. Throat thick with his taste, your eyes tracing over his body in admiration. Strong. All solid and firm.

The moonlight catches in his hair, heightening the flush that blooms on his cheeks. The sight makes your heart swell with pride and your grin softens into something contented, sweet, before disappearing altogether behind the mask of feigned indifference.

The pads of your fingers find the palette of his chest. Locked inside the rope bindings that encase him. Arms restrained and languid slouch as Satoru attempts to steady his breath, reeling from pleasure denied but not forgotten.

"Remember the safe word," you ask, fingertips skimming the rugged paths etched onto his body. Chronicles of his past, engraved by life's trials. Tokens of the struggles he's faced. Thumb flicking over his nipple before hooking underneath the rope over his obliques.

"Do we really need that," he protests.

"Yeah, of course–don't wanna hurt you."

Your fingers trace the contour of his lips, the sharp edge of his jawline–

This earns you a chuckle, a warm ripple of sound that wraps around the room, "you're not gonna hurt me."

–before coming to rest under his chin, lifting his face upwards to meet your gaze.

"The safe word, Gojo, now," your voice is soft but firm.

He exhales yet nods in understanding.

"Skullgreymon."

A sigh leaves your lips upon his creation but you leave it be, nodding and humming in approval as he recites the safe word back to you. A bridge of understanding, built on the sturdy pillars of trust; something that you had to force him to accept, Satoru being the usual dismissive himself whenever you discussed such topics.

("It’s not like you can actually hurt me."

"It doesn’t matter. I need to know when you’re uncomfortable or want to stop."

"With you? I’m never uncomfortable–never wanna stop."

"And what about me? What if I ever need to stop?")

Your lips press against his after. A gentle seal of affirmation that speaks volumes without words. The taste of the moment lingers on his lips, a blend of anticipation and reassurance. Tongue swirling over his teeth, swallowing his moans.

"Good boy," you mumble – a phrase that straddles the line between praise and tenderness – lips still touching his with a mere breath apart. A whispered secret.

Satoru hums in response to your words, a grin etched on his striking countenance as you gradually draw away. Though his vision is denied to him, he's keenly aware that the emotions he's experiencing – the raw affinity – flow both ways. He possesses the strength to easily dominate. Take what he wants; give you what you need.

But he won’t do that. Having everything he holds dear sit on his abdomen, he won’t. Instead, he revels in the way you make him submit to you. Letting you take control, become the powerful one. The stronger one.

The power you have over him. It's the sole force he acknowledges, the sole thought that occupies his mind.

Silently opening the lid, you allow a generous dollop to land on your waiting fingers; the slick viscosity gathering between your thumb, forefinger, and middle finger. Hand rising, drawing nearer to his lips, and with a feather-like touch, your fingers tap the subtle curve of his lip.

Satoru’s lips part curiously, the warmth of his breath extending an invitation as you brush the slick substance across the curve of his lower lip.

"S’that lube," he ponders, tongue gliding over now slickened lips, "but what’s that taste?"

You look up at the bottle in your hand, reading the label out loud: "Strawberry pomegranate."

"Tasty. But why do you need that?"

Repositioning yourself slightly, you glide your tongue over the curve of his clavicles. Fingers dance over the rounded contours of his abdomen, tracing the paths of muscles imbued with a refined strength. Each touch leaves a sticky trail behind; until they reach their final destination. They tap lightly over his leaking slit, deftly spreading the slick lubricant, intertwining it with his own juices.

"Don’t really wanna wait no more," you answer him.

Spreading the last remnants of the lube over your pussy, you part your lips. With one hand feeling the muscle of Satoru’s shoulder tense, you position his cock to kiss your opening.

His mouth parts, already feeling the heat of your core. Lips slotting over his, hungrily swallowing the groan he elicits as you sink down. Cock slipping inside you, stretching you open and filling you with his thickness. You stop when you feel a blunt pressure inside you – forehead resting against his as you move slightly up, using the ropes over his torso as reins of sorts. Then you sit back down. Take more of him in. Until the pressure returns. So you repeat the process.

The friction of his cock against your walls briefly intensifies as his entire length slides home. It makes your lungs heave as you cling onto his shoulders.

"Agh–more," he gasps against your lips, a sheen of sweat covering his face, "need more."

"I know," you huff, struggling with the rush of haze over your mind.

And so you repeat. Over and over.

With each thrust, Satoru grows more desperate for your touch. Your name on his lips, an endless loop of sound that crescendos with every revolution of his hips, trying to meet yours whenever your pussy sinks more of him inside. His lips search for yours, brushing and caressing the skin of your face.

Circling your hips, drawing eights whenever his pelvis sloths between your thighs, you move in an age-old dance of pleasure – pushing and pulling, biting and licking, wanting and needing. The once-slow movement shifts as you draw closer to the climax.

"Fuck–s’good, just keep riding me like that," his hips push up, trying to bury himself as deep inside your fluttering walls – until your toes curl, back arch and nails dig into the meat of his shoulders.

The sensation is dizzying; it feels like a million tiny explosions are detonating inside you with each motion of his hips. His cock seems to swell even more inside you, stretching and filling you like molten steel poured into a mold. The muscles in his thighs tense under your fingertips as he struggles against the sensations wracking his body.

Fingers circling your aching nub, a warm and slippery sensation nestled between your legs, the tautness in your abdomen rises, building like the swell of a stormy sea, until it crashes against the shores.

"Ahh–Satoru–"

Leaving your body to surrender to the feeling, your muscles unwind over Satoru’s sitting form. Body spasming, spent; your hands finding sanctuary on either side of his neck, his face nestled in the curve of your throat. Licking at the droplets of sweat tracing down.

"Was that good," he mumbles into your skin – tender and velour. Body spent and thighs already feeling the strain of all the work, you only hum in response, murmuring a ‘thank you’ in the process.

"Good, you did good," he continues. Then you feel him shift. The ropes strain until they give up – way too easily for all the hard work you put in tying them all together – and Satoru’s fingers are already wrapped around your forearm, pushing you back onto your back.

His cock slips out momentarily upon the change of positions. Making your pussy ache, clench over nothingness. Hands moving over your body before finding solace over your ankles; pushing them high onto his shoulders, slothing your body in half between him and the bed.

"Now’s my turn to play."

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog

[konigbabe-interact]

never define you

DAY 1 ⇢ Exhibitionism Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!teacher!reader (+ Shoko Ieiri) Word count: 1.9k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; exhibitionism; hints of a threesome (F/F/M); jealous!Gojo; playful!Shoko; p-in-v; office sex; table sex; ass slapping; swearing; unprotected sex; innapropriate use of a blindfold; extensive use of euphemisms and poetic descriptions Summary: "Shh, Ieiri will hear us...or do you want her to come and watch?" — to which you simply nod. A/N: Feel free to guess the [deadly] sin hidden inside this story and let me know what you think it is (and why you think so)! Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023, hosted by: @lemonlover1110 @violetsaffron5 @septembersums @ayyy-pee and @xo2dee.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"I said watch, not touch." Shoko's fingertip grazes the curve of her lower lip, a deliberate act that invites her tongue to follow; eyes staying on your swaying form, breasts almost spilling from your bra due to Satoru's thrusts turning erratic. Harsher. More demanding. The scene drenched in a potent blend of Satoru's possessiveness and desire.

You don't know what's louder — your moans or the rhythmic collision of Satoru's hips against yours.

The table beneath your palms exudes a comforting warmth; its sharp edge finding the curve of your hipbone in tandem with each intense meeting of flesh. Sends a wave of ecstasy through your veins. Sets every nerve ablaze.

Ends with his name escaping your lips, falling like a plea that elicits a guttural response from him. His lips curve upward, a mix of desire and satisfaction, as he drinks in the sight of you—legs parted to the limits set by the elastic band of your underwear, the delicate fabric pressing sharply into the tender flesh of your lower thighs. Body angled parallel to Satoru's work desk, skirt gathered around your hips to reveal a tantalizing sliver of the skin on your lower back.

His fingers seek out that revealed fragment of skin, grasping it with a desperate hunger to feel your warmth, your skin. His touch a fervent proclamation of ownership. Reveling in the way your body yields to his touch, how your gasps and moans harmonize with his movements, responding to his skilled touches.

It's not enough though.

Already unbuttoned, your shirt lays open as he seizes the fabric at the back, tugging it gently; exposing the top of your shoulder blades – the canvas for his hungry eyes and roaming hands.

It's not enough.

With a disapproving grunt and cock buried, deeply nestled within you, he tugs more. With caution, not to rip the thin material (he's already received a mouthful the last time he dared to rip your shirt off, left it in pieces).

"Don't rip–"

The words fade into a breathless silence. Instead, a choked-off moan is let out when Satoru's movements take a sudden, forceful turn and he delivers a rather harsh thrust.

"Yeah, yeah," he dismisses your warning, "don't worry, I know."

The wooden surface beneath your palms loses its support as you boldly follow the trail of his actions, arms drawn backward in a daring arc, pectoral muscles stretching in a way that brings both delight and strain.

Bathing in the darkness, his blindfold presses gently against your closed eyelids; you feel the material of your shirt bunch around your forearms, cinching them together in a makeshift constraint, Satoru's fingers envelop the material between your wrists, holding it firmly. His cock splits you open with each roll of his hips. Thighs flush against yours. Feet stretching, tiptoes barely reaching the wooden floor of his workplace.

"You're so pretty like this."

The other hand leaves a sharp unexpected sting on the curve of your ass. Earns him a surprised yelp, his name a mix of displeased profanity and something more primal. Loud enough to surpass the door.

"Shh," Satoru murmurs, his tone a gentle hush, and bends down, forceful movements giving way to gentle, shallow motions; savoring the sensation of the way your cunt grips him. Every time he withdraws, you draw him in tighter, your hips synchronizing with his. "Or Ieiri will hear us," he adds, a whisper in the air.

To which you hum in contentment but don't necessarily quiet down.

"Daamn–you got tighter," his breath fans over the shell of your ear, forehead momentarily resting on the back of your head as he stops, stays seated inside. "S'that it? You wanna get heard by her?" His voice is laced with amusement, a playful query that lingers in the space between you.

You answer his teasing proposition with a roll of your hips.

"Mmph–Satoru, please–.”

To which the weight of his clothed body leaves your back as he straightens out. One hand splayed on top of your ass; fingers spread over the juncture where the supple flesh meets the lower arch of your back. Thumb pressing against your perineum while he watches the white ring of your juices cling to his cock whenever he pulls out.

"Or you want her to watch?"

The idea that you let sit. It mingles with the way he pivots his hips until something inside you snaps.

"Wouldn't–ugh," the words tumble from your lips, your back arching involuntarily – calves straining, ass going up with your still-covered breasts pressing into the table."Wouldn't mind her—watching." The admission punctuated with a gasp.

It's as if you could feel the way Satoru grins over your words. Listening to your struggle to form a sentence while relentlessly hitting all the sweet spots in your walls. While listening to the sounds of your wet cunt, how your slick stick to him like glue. And watching; watching the pleasure take you over and the way your hands curl around nothing within his grasp.

He reaches for his phone then. Fishes it out of his back pocket. Casually searches through the contacts, scrolling through the list until it lands on ‘Ieiri Shoko'. All while his hips meet yours, in a languid pace, using the grip he has on you to pull you back; to meet him halfway.

Shortly after the sound of a sent message reaches your ears, the doors open.

"Oh wow," her voice carries a unique texture, a sort of huskiness. A distinct raspy quality. Despite this, her tone maintains a soothing quality, like a well-loved instrument that has gained character over time. And to a non-sorcerer's ear, it would sound simply smooth.

"Wasn't expecting such a delightful sight."

Satoru doesn't stop rolling his hips. Instead, his movements evolve, become more defined – angling himself to lean further over you. With one hand resting on the table, fingertips grazing the curve of your hip. He impels his cock to go deeper; kiss that spot inside your walls, coaxing them to tighten around him. Coat him in slickness.

Makes you drip down your thighs – like liquid silk; you feel it cascade down until it’s caught by your underwear.

Satoru’s hips gradually slow their relentless pace, a momentary respite in the whirlwind of sensation. 

"Well," a low rumble pours from Satoru's chest as he speaks, tone a blend of playful invitation and smoldering desire, "you can watch all you want. She seems to like you."

A hand connects with your asscheek. A gentle slap.

"Isn't that right, pet?"

"Umm," your words are caught in your throat when Satoru untangles your arms from the shirt's confines and brings you up. Forces your arms to support your weight on the table as the arch of your back meets the solid planes of his chest. "So–so right."

The heels click against the wooden floor until Shoko's breath touches your cheeks slick with the sheen of sweat.. The warmth of her breath mingles with yours. Delicate, bony fingers grasp your chin and tilt it slightly up until a thumb swipes over your kiss-bruised lips.

"Always wondered ‘bout the sounds you'd make," every roll of her tongue adds a touch of richness to every word she utters, "the way you'd taste."

Her lips crash into yours. Soft and tender. The delicate pressure sends ripples through your exposed body. Making your heartbeat drop to your cunt, swell around Satoru and push you closer to the luscious end.

With each gentle brush and press of her mouth, time seems to slow, the world around you narrowing down to the meeting of her lips. All accompanied by the heat of his cock pressing against your inner walls until you're filled to the brim with pure blissful agony.

"I said watch, not touch."

A sharp, forceful impact sends you crashing against the table's rough edge, the fleeting touch of your lips disrupted, leaving only a fleeting connection of saliva – almost as if he was chastising you for Shoko's perceived transgression.

"And only her," his words command with an edge of envy, "eyes on her."

Shoko's fingertip grazes the curve of her lower lip, a deliberate act that invites her tongue to follow; eyes staying on your swaying form, breasts almost spilling from your bra due to Satoru's thrusts turning erratic. Harsher. More demanding. The scene drenched in a potent blend of Satoru's possessiveness and desire.

"No one cares about your cock, Gojo," the tone turns annoyed, a lingering playfulness underneath its surface.

"I do," you mumble, slowly feeling the high building up.

Your words make the man smirk at his coworker.

"Come here," he pulls you closer, breasts brushing against the warmth of his forearm. A warm exhalation fans across your neck, gently coaxing you to tilt your head to the side to give him a proper kiss – a gradual melding of mouths, unhurried and deliberate. A delicious tangle of warmth that tingles through your body. "That's my girl."

You finally break apart, lips still tingling with pleasure. You both let out a sigh of contentment, enjoying the afterglow.

"One more," Satoru whispers against your lips, hips moving in a subtle rhythm against yours. Shoko observes the two of you with a curious expression, sweeping your hair aside from one side of your face. Coinciding with Satoru's soft kisses trailing towards your ear on the opposite side.

You feel his hand glide along your hip, tracing the contours with a delicate touch. Fingers exploring the curve of your ass. Middle finger grazing over the apex of your folds, gathering the glistening wetness before circling the tender spot at the center.

A whimper of pleasure unfurls from your mouth like the petals of a blossoming flower. It grows, a crescendo of longing and need, as Satoru follows the same pattern – tracing slow circles around your clit and hood, pressing down whenever his cock kisses the deepest places inside you. Then he draws back. Leaves only the tip in, lets you feel the way your cunt grips his head, tries to suck him back in. And with his hips snapping, he pushes back into your warmth, slick, and flicks your clit in the process.

A tantalizing play that beckons you to clasp onto him whenever he's buried to the hilt.

"Satoru–please," your voice becomes an instrument of pure ecstasy, "m'close–don't stop…please…"

And he listens. To your longing for that sweet high. Skillful rolls of his lips like an artist's brushstrokes painting pleasure across your canvas.

Body slowly giving away, slick walls clamping down on his cock. You feel the sensations ripple through you, each one a tender collision of delicate flames, like feathers brushing against your senses. Touches that converge into points of an exquisite dance that leaves you melting, your very core becoming molten with pleasure.

It's the way your head strains back, finding solace in the crook of Satoru's neck; a sanctuary where his scent and warmth envelop you. Arms extending, gripping the opposite edge of the table until your knuckles feel as if they are going to rip. Thighs flexing, a choked cry of his name frees itself from your lips.

Satoru follows suit, his restraint shattered by the intensity of your tightening embrace, your walls a vice that clutches at him – an embrace that draws him in with an insatiable hunger. A voracious pull. The ripples of your fervor coax him deeper, painting your walls the purest hues of intimacy until you become a canvas that blushes with pearlescent tones. He imprints himself deep within your walls.

"Wish I took my phone with me," Shoko's voice interjects, a distant echo that momentarily breaches the bubble of your orgasm, the ripples of her words brushing against the edges of your pleasure without truly breaking through.

You exhaust a chuckle. A gentle exhale that mingles with the remnants of your euphoria. Hand reaching for the blindfold, all while Satoru keeps his softening cock inside you. Relishing in the squeeze just a little longer.

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog

[konigbabe-interact]

2.7k!! wow!! to thank you all (so much) for following and supporting me, i put together a header pack!

my 2.7k celebration header pack includes 100 torn-paper, pastel sky headers, plus some misc pastel headers (books, marble statues, etc.)!!

please reblog this post if you use one! i’d appreciate it if you followed me but it’s not a requirement to use the headers. no need to credit either, but please do not claim as your own or use in any context other than a tumblr header. if anyone asks, please refer them back to my blog!

again, thank you all!! i love you all so much.

view and download here

#header source

[konigbabe-interact]

Tried to learn how to shade; first attempt.

#crossreblog #from my secondary fanfic blog #konigbabe

[konigbabe-interact]

what inspired your single dad leon series?

The fact that I haven't seen anyone take on such idea, especially with the "x teacher" pairing ♡ Wanted to create something new and original for the fandom, so I worked days and nights, literally at least a week, to flesh out the ideas, the scenes, the characterization and all that and I'm really proud of what came out. That whole premise is very dear to me so ♡; like my baby.

What also inspired me to think about it is Ash ( @guyfieriii ) actually. We became mutuals when she started her professor Price series of smutty oneshots and even now, I am in absolute love with the idea. Wanted to create something of similar premise but I don't like copying other people's works, y'know? So I spent around a week (another, so I actually let the single dad Leon idea cook for at least 14 days before started to work on this) just thinking of how to twist and blend the idea of "professor [character] x student!reader" until "single dad [character] x teacher!reader" came to exist ♡.

I live for originality so I always try to think outside the box. To create something rarely seen in the fandom or not tried before.

read my single dad Leon series here ⇢ MASTERLIST

[konigbabe-interact]

SINGLE DAD LEON: MASTERLIST *⁀➷

Masterlist of my ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader from my single dad Leon x Miss Teacher AU. All these stories happen within the same universe.

OC girl!child character (Leon's daughter; without a name or proper description). Canon ID!Leon is around 29 but Leon in this “universe” is aged up to be in his 30s (age won’t be specified but I imagine him to be in his mid-to-late 30s). Most of these works are smut and can be read as standalone.

⇢ ONGOING ┊ AO3 collection link

Series of short stories about a man with a tortured soul, his little pup and miss teacher who happens to wander into his world.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

STORIES INDEX

I. like real people do [fluff; smut; 5.8k wc]

↳ He’s your student’s father. Handsome. Confident. Alluring. But off limits.

II. keep it quiet [smut; 2.2k wc]

↳ Just single dad Leon fucking you in the janitor’s closet during class.

III. teacher's pet

IV. coffee breaks

✧.* EXTRAS*.✧

fan art┊related asks ┊related content ┊extras