#Baby Lofty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedarkcircuswritings · 2 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkcircuswritings/743136498805866497/hey-if-its-possible-can-you-do-a-headcanons-of?source=share

Since you did this with CRK, can you do the same for these MLP couples?

Cadence x Shining Armor

Applejack x Rainbow Dash

Lyra x BonBon (Or Sweetie Drops)

Aunt Lofty x Auntie Holiday

Oh, these poor souls have to take care of another baby!! Oh no!! Jokes aside, these two would feel so blessed to have another child under their hooves and wings, no matter what species they are. The Crystal Empire can be their home, blood-related or not! Plus, on another bright side, Flurry Heart can have a new playmate! Shining Armor is doing his best to be a great dad and even lets Auntie Twilight Sparkle see this new child. He'll definitely seek out her advice if it's something he doesn't know how to handle, like how to clean scales for a dragon baby, or how to feed a pony baby bottle to a baby griffin! He doesn't know it all, but he's definitely learning all he can for his new bundle of joy. Princess Cadence has opened her heart to this new life and knows that when you grow older, she will show them that species does not matter when it comes to family, and even if they were a pony, it wouldn't make any difference. They are still her and Shining Armor's child and Flurry Heart's sibling, and they will always love you. That's what the Crystal Empire is all about after all: loving one another.

These two were originally VERY underprepared. A baby!? A baby that isn't a pony!? The closest thing they ever had to that was Spike, but he's not really a baby anymore! There will be a bit of a freakout, but once things are sorted, things get on quite well. Granny Smith and Big Mac had set up a makeshift nursery for this new addition to the family, and Applejack and Rainbow agreed that they'd do their best to share most of the work with one another to take care of them. Rainbow Dash originally didn't think that they'd keep the baby for too long: maybe find a parent for them or, y'know, somebody who knows what they're actually doing with a child? But admittedly, she easily got attached to them, so she kind of has their weird familial tsundere attachment to them. She's the type to go "Pfft, she's not MY child!" but often whispers to them in secret how cool they are and gets so giddy at the thought of teaching them how to fly if the baby has wings. Maybe a baby makes her 20% cooler?

Applejack is stubborn about being a parent. This baby looks like they could be strong, and she knows how to do strong! Maybe when they're old enough, they can help around the farm! For now, though, the baby is still a baby, but "training" can start early, especially with these plastic apple toys! She... Only has apple-based toys. Twilight Sparkle and the others have to buy non-apple-related toys.

Upon realizing this baby is under their care, these two would definitely have a long talk on how to work through this. They didn't have a baby on their agenda, at least not this early, but it feels wrong to just give this baby away to an orphanage or anything like that. This baby deserves some loving parents, and they both realize that they can be the right ones for that. Lyra is the "housewife" in this scenario while Bonbon works, spending most time with the baby: playing with them, feeding them, and coddling them. She even uses her talent to play the lyre to her advantage when it's nap time! She's also trying to learn what she can about whatever species the baby is to make sure that she and Bonbon can be well-prepared. If they're both going to be mothers, they're going to work together to give this newborn the best care yet! Bonbon suspiciously knows a lot more than the baby's species than Lyra does: what to do, what to avoid, how to keep the newborn healthy, etc etc. Maybe being a secret agent has good perks too outside of hunting and managing monsters. There's probably one time when she accidentally got the baby involved in a mission and had to go through it with this small child, but in the end, she and the baby get home safe and Lyra doesn't suspect a thing!

Oh, how these two wished for this day! The two immediately accept this baby as one of their own since they've always, always wanted kids. They both knit clothes, introduce them to the rest of their family and friends, deliver the news to Scootaloo that she's going to be a niece, and even work hard together creating the nursery of their dreams so the baby can have their own place of rest! Aunt Holiday does her best to keep this baby happy and healthy, making homemade baby food and going shopping for whatever toys they need. There are some nights where she just cries of happiness because oh my Celestia, she and Lofty finally have a baby together... Sometimes she even tears up when she holds the baby close or watches them in their cradle. She's as happy as when she married Lofty and adopted Scootaloo. Auntie Lofty spoils the baby a bit more than Aunt Holiday does, giving the baby soft sugary stuff that they can reasonably eat and always managing to leave the marketplace with at least one thing for the baby. Holiday often scolds her a bit, saying she should chip in too, but Lofty assures her that if Holiday can spoil the baby with her own money, so can she. When Holiday cries tears of joy, she holds her close and whispers sweet nothings, and although not as emotional as Holiday is, is also glad for this blessing as well.

#🎭Shadow Writing!#shining armor #princess cadance #applejack #rainbow dash #lyra #bon bon #sweetie drops #aunt lofty #auntie holiday #shining armor x princess cadance #applejack x rainbow dash #lyra x bonbon #lyra x sweetie drops #aunt lofty x auntie holiday #my little pony #mlp #mlp ships #baby oneshot

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tiramegtoons · 2 years

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@medys-space

Very soft. And when I say soft I mean lofty.

I mean- look at him! How can one ever resist? Especially when he gives you that look.

#the snatcher #the snatcher ahit #snatcher cat #you know lofty has a double meaning here #the cats meow #fur baby

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hermitdrabbles56 · 1 year

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1, 7, 8, 15! :)

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

My mom yes even though she is understandably sick of my shit 😅, but my dad has passed away and it was a complicated relationship.

07: What did you last eat?

Currently trying to shove a peanut butter and hazelnut sandwich in me along with hot chocolate coffee..

08: Played any sports?

Uhhh..for like....3 months when I was ate I was in karate? But otherwise no...

15: Have any pets?

Yes! This fucking little bastard man. His name is Loki.

#a wild Lofty has appeared!!#the crab overshares #Hermits bastard cat hours #i love him hes my baby #hermit responds!

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volfoss · 2 years

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me getting a bad shape pony- surely this will be all of the issues and the seller will not forget to disclose important info ^-^

me actually fixing the pony- oh dear god the seller forgot to disclose this info and i do not know how to fix it

#^ also wht i went thru w baby lofty #like she has 60 million issues or had ig bc i fixed her but god #idk how to fix this and research is NOT helping :/#but on the bright side this sherbet is in RLY good shape minus this :) her hair and vinyl colors r perfect p much and she only has a few #small stains #but good god.#pony posting #this was also what i went thru w party time actually. bad things happen 2 me when i want 2 buy yucky ponies apparently

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mlp-toy-archive · 2 years

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Gen 1 Beddy Bye Eye Ponies

Heart Throb & Lofty (Baby)

1985, Pegasi, Year 4

#mlp toys #gen 1 #beddy bye eye ponies #pegasus #heart throb #lofty #fav #baby #year 4

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heckyeahponyscans · 2 years

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Chinese bootleg My Little Pony ‘n Friends book #1

“The Ghost of Paradise Estate”

#My Little Pony #G1 #My Little Pony n Friends #Chinese #Baby Lofty #Megan #Baby Ribbon #Molly #Baby Heart Throb #Chinese bootleg G1 book 1

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georgia-stanway · 1 year

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Well that's just brilliant

#lofty baby we need you to score a goal NOT GET A FUCKING RED CARD

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cheonstapes · 8 days

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miguel o’hara stars in… ‘SUGAR BABY CHRONICLES’ ヽ(´o｀；

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x fem!reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

REQUEST from my lovely @miguelzslvtz; So I was thinking of an older!Sugar daddy Miguel x reader. The reader is working at small country club and Miguel noticed her. She’s serving him drinks, and taking care of him. He tells her she’s too good to be working there and introduced the idea of being her sugar daddy (basically some arm candy). He invites her over to his mansion for a party and she’s dressed up for him🫶🏻 all night she’s being looked at by other men and woman, he’s being very protective of her. He loves on her all night and makes sure she’s taken care of💗💗spoiled✨

cw; older!miguel, slight age gap (reader is in early 20s, miguel is in early 30s), cumming inside, slight breeding(not really, i just have a problem), sugardaddy!miguel, readers a little bit of a tsundere kinda, miguel’s really in love, cunnilings, shower sex, hair pulling, NAWT PROOFREAD!!

4k+ words (longest fic omg!!)

@cheonstapes; hi again…🤗 these hiatuses are killing me. i’ve been absolutely swamped and i lost so much motivation to write but im glad to say i think i’ve found my footing. i found myself again and i’ll work on balancing everything from now on! i apologise for the mammoth amount of time it took me to do this (this is what i get for working chronologically) and i have not forgotten about your requests if you sent one! pyramids and project ex will still be coming but i want to make sure requests are out of the way as they’ve been there for months and it’s not fair for the lovely people who’ve waited so long. thanks again! i love you all🩷

you loved your job, you really did.

not many people can say that genuinely, but when you’re getting the tips you’re getting, seeing the men you’re seeing, you definitely don’t wanna leave anytime soon. working at such an elite club meant you were among the rich of the rich — the big shots of the city that wouldn’t be caught anywhere else.

at the very least, the uniform was modest enough — obviously though, there would always be a few buttons left undone on your shirt, your skirt pulled up just that little bit higher. that window of flesh, no matter how small, was a guaranteed extra thousand in your pocket by the end of the night — and that wasn’t even counting him.

mr. o’hara. that’s all you knew him by. the man was overtly secretive, often arriving alone or occasionally with a very small group of associates. he was by far your biggest tipper. at times, you wondered if he owned the club due to the pure influence he has on your boss — somehow, much to your excitement, convincing him to bump your pay-check up by a lofty sum. the amount of money you make could send you into an early retirement, but of course you wouldn’t do that. it meant you wouldn’t get to learn more about him, and you needed to learn more about him.

summer was always the busiest, the great weather meaning there was more members than usual coming out to play. although, running around and serving for 9 hours a day was extremely tiring — gruelling even. there was sweat dripping down your face, your black dress feeling like a leather coat with the way it clung to you like second skin.

one last drink. you had one last drink to serve and then you could go on your break. double checking the table number, your eyes widened slightly as you saw him. mr. o’hara was not a small man by any means — the bulging muscles tucked away under his tight dress shirt, shoulders almost akin in length with the table. to put it simply, he was the epitome of sexy. you were barely at his table and you could smell him already, the masculine musk of his oud creating a musky, rose scented bubble that ensnared all your senses.

“‘s that for me, sweetheart?”

yes, yes it was. but he really wanted to hear you say it. your voice was such a sweet caress to his ear — he could guarantee an angel got its wings every time you spoke. miguel usually prides himself on being in control of his emotions, his body — but having a pretty, little thing like you just within his grasp was the ultimate challenge of restraint.

the man felt absolutely helpless, his heart pounding in his chest like a hormonal teenage boy when you placed the drink in front of him. “you know it, mr. o’hara — you order the same thing everyday.” fuck. the sip he was having was definitely becoming more than a sip the longer he held the cup to his mouth — chub twitching against the fabric of his slacks.

you were just the sweetest little thing — much more enthusiastic than the other girls that worked there. he might be just imagining it too, but he can feel deep in his heart that you dress up just for him. miguel knows you want him, and he’s more than happy to give himself to you.

“you know me better than i know myself, dulzura. almost like you’re keeping tabs on me, hm?”

“i mean, yeah, i kinda am. it’s my job, mr. o’hara. you’re one of our most frequent regulars, it’d be crazy if i couldn’t tell you your order ‘fore you give it to me.”

oh…yeah.

in miguel’s defence, it’s been a while….a long while since he last flirted — and having an 8-year-old daughter who’s judging your every move means there’s not a lot of time to work on your game. but he’d be damned if he lost an angel like you, he will be yours. plus, gabi does need a woman like you in her life too.

“do you enjoy it, though? your job, I mean — not keeping tabs on me.”

“you probably won’t believe this, but i actually do. the pay’s good, at least, and i can afford to pay my bills, uni, and still have fun. i’m kinda lucky, i guess.”

“you wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, nena.”

miguel knew he was probably breaking some sorta rule, flirting with staff or whatever — but god you were worth it. if being able to take you home meant that he would never set foot in the club again, then so be it.

“sorry, what was that, sir?”

“…quit your job — not in a ‘you’re bad at your job way’ — i’ll take care of you. i can give you everything, anything you want.”

you couldn’t say you were surprised, especially with the nature of your job — old men say stuff like this to you all the time. but, miguel wasn’t any old man. as much as you loved your job, had a stable income and good connections — the thought of quitting and running away with a man like him? fuck, it was so tempting.

“alright then. i hope you live up to those words, mr. o’hara.”

———————————————————————————

mr o’hara (sugardaddy?)

i’m throwing an event at work tonight, i want you to be there.

sent 16:42

(y.n)

hi, mr o’hara. i’d love to but i finish work at 7,i don’t know if i’ll be able to make it. and i don’t really have anything to wear :(

sent 16:50

mr. o’hara (sugardaddy?)

don’t worry about it, gorgeous. i’ve already got you off work for the rest of the week, and i’ve got you something nice to wear.

sent 16:50

(y.n)

oh, really? well, i guess i’ll see you there then! ;)

sent 16:56

mr. sugardaddy

mmhm, i can’t wait to see you, babe. and call me miguel.

sent 16:56

———————————————————————————

miguel had promptly sent his driver to pick you up in a sleek black sports car, much to the dismay of your co-workers. a beautifully wrapped box was placed on the seat beside you, a bouquet of orchids and a small note that read ‘for you, las flores más bonitas para la chica más guapa - m’

it was hard to not feel a tinge if heat was rising in your face, for someone whom you’re only just getting to know to be so utterly romantic — it was a new experience! relationships had never been something you were particularly interested in, but there was no denying the allure that someone like miguel held and only time could tell how it would all play out.

arriving at his mansion, which was nothing short of jaw dropping — the halls were mostly desolate aside from the quite bustle of the staff that were preparing for tonight’s ball. an elderly woman escorts you upstairs to the master bedroom, your eyes roaming the area as you take in the grandeur of the building — aged walls paired with a modern nueva york touch.

“where’s mr. o— miguel?” the woman turns to you, an indecipherable smile on her lips.

“mr. o’hara is just getting prepared for the ball. don’t fret over him, he’ll join you shortly.” well, it was a bit rude to invite someone over and not be there to greet them but ok! “ah, i forgot to mention,” she opens the door, stepping aside to let you in. “i left you a little something on the dresser. i believe you both’ll be needing it.” the woman winks, silently closing the door behind her — leaving you alone in the large room.

god, even the room smelt like him. a musky wood and cinnamon smell, with the faintest hint of vanilla from the candle burning by the window sill. it wasn’t everyday you were in the presence of such luxury, especially old money luxury. your eyes flitted over to the dresser the woman was referring to, that sneaky grandma.

a box of xl condoms, birth control, towels, all wrapped in a cute gift basket. “seriously? who does she think i am? i’m not fucking on the first date.” wait— was this a date? it definitely felt like one, but it was hard to be 100% sure. this was too much to deal with now, all that was left to worry about was the ball and getting ready.

on the bed behind you lay a beautifully wrapped box, with a red ribbon to top it off. it fell gracefully onto the bedsheets as you unwrapped it, lifting the lid to reveal the shimmering red dress underneath. a sleeveless satin dress, fabric lined with the finest crystals, a slit raising mid thigh, lined a sheer lace. it was the definition of classy, with a hint of seduction.

putting it on felt like a crime, something so beautifully should be preserved and put into a museum. it took all of your willpower to not tuck the dress away somewhere safe and just go and get one of your own — but alas, it was a gift, the least you could do is wear it. the craziest part was how perfect it fit. practically a glove, clinging onto every curve and crevice of your body — extenuating places you never even noticed before.

smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure it was as perfect as possible — fuck, you looked hot. the colour complimented your skin exquisitely, adding a soft glow to your complexion. in the time it took you to get ready, it seemed like the party was already amping up. you could see the surge of people from the window, flashing lights and an abundance of cars being handed to the concierges. you still had yet to see miguel and what better time to look for him than now?

there was a pair of red heels that matched the dress to a T, slipping them on and bouncing down the steps. the butterflies fluttered wildly in your tummy the nearer you got to the party, joining the line of people being checked in by security. though, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of him. standing there in all his 6’ glory, curls lightly slicked back, wearing a tight button up shirt and those sexy slacks.

something about seeing miguel like this, so carefree and relaxed, set something off inside of you. even though you were supposed to be his guest, you did everything in your power to avoid his gaze — purely cause you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact him for longer than a few minutes without jumping his bones. but of course, fate was destiny’s whore, and soon enough you were being escorted straight into the ballroom.

“were you avoiding me, cielo?”

a hand splayed across your waist, leading you deeper inside the hall as he whispered in your ear. it was obviously due to the fact that you probably couldn’t hear him all too well because to the loud music, but the way his hands caressed your sides, his lips brushing against the lobe of your ear — it felt all too intentional.

“no…i just didn’t want to cut in line. i figured i’d see you when i see you.”

“is that so?” he slid a champagne flute in your hands, grabbing one of his own as he tilted his head at you — a stray curl unfurling down his forehead. “you’re like an open book, cariño. you think i don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head by now?”

“so you’ve been studying me, hm?” now it was your turn to raise a brow, tilting your head back as you took a long sip of your champagne. it wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he had been, it was kinda obvious from all the stares he’d give you and when he’d ‘enquire’ about you from your colleagues.

“mmm, studying’s a strong word. i was simply…observing you. can’t blame me for wanting to know someone as enchanting as you better.”

he had quite the mouth on him, didn’t he? you couldn’t stop the small smile that graces your lips, shaking your head in disbelief.

“you’re so stupid, miguel.”

“if falling for you is stupid, then i’m the dumbest of them all.”

it was so bad, so bad that it was actually good. and that comment shaped the rest of your night together. considering your new arrangement, he took the liberty of introducing you to his circle of friends and their wives — conveniently leaving out that he was your new sugar daddy, but that was a story for another day. miguel revelled in the looks they all gave you, seemingly forgetting they themselves had a date nestled on their arms. he really couldn’t have picked a better dress, but damn if it wasn’t killing him.

you really didn’t know how beautiful you were, and he so badly wanted to show you. the dim lighting was a blessing for the tent in his slacks, giving him a flimsy disguise for the arousal he felt at that moment. after more than a few drinks too, wandering hands and lingering words, it was becoming unbearable. however, scaring you off wasn’t on his bucket list tonight. he didn’t take this long fighting for your attention to loose you on the first date. he vowed to do everything at your pace, leaving it up to you to make the first move.

as the party wrapped up, and miguel said his goodbyes — you stood at the door, shivering from the cold air as it nipped against your bare arms. the fun you had was incomparable to any party you’ve ever been to, but you thought you may have overstayed your welcome. shakily tapping on your phone with freezing fingers, ordering an uber to pick you up —

“leaving already?”

“yeah, i had a lot of fun tonight, though.” it was a genuine smile, one that spoke a million words. “thanks for inviting me, miguel.”

for a man so big he sure did move so silently. he stood behind you, gently grasping your hand in his as she looked down on you. “when i invited you, i didn’t invite you as a mere guest — you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

it didn’t even sound like he was simply offering, miguel was begging. you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice — urging you to stay the night, stay with him.

“miguel, are you sure? i don’t even have anything to change—“

“i’ve already organised sleepwear for you, but you could wear something of mine if you’d like?”

that sly smirk slid its way onto his face once again, rolling your eyes as you walked past him — pulling out your phone to cancel the uber. “fine, i’ll stay. i might take you up on that offer too.”

lo and behold, an array of skincare and pyjamas were set out on his bed as you entered the master bedroom once again — and to top it off, gift bags filled with designer items that you’d never thought you’d ever own. “miguel…is this all for me?”

“unless i have another sugar baby, who else would it be for? ‘course it’s for you, darling — consider it a…’welcome’ gift.”

“more like my entire tuition fee, hell. you didn’t have to spend all this money on me, y’know?”

“cariño,” you could see miguel walking up to him from the mirror in front, his arm slipping round your waist to pull you into his back. “i spend my money how i want, and i want to spend it on you. so i don’t want to hear no more complaining from you, understand.” the small nod you gave earned a small grin from him, a hand smoothing up the curve of your back until it reached the shimmering zipper under your neck.

“you look like a goddess tonight, baby. so fucking beautiful…” his words were whispered softly into your neck, gentle breaths caressing your skin. as he spoke, the zipper slid lower and lower — until your dress was held together by the tips of his fingers. the cold metal of his rings brushed against your bare skin, the tips of his fingers dancing on the curve of your waist as he lets the fabric pool at your feet.

“m-miguel, i’m sweaty from all the dancing! at least let me wash up first, or something.” if you weren’t sweating much then, you were definitely sweating buckets now. the heat radiating from you mixed with the heat simmering between the two of you made for a heady cocktail of unspoken desire — and you silently cursing yourself for almost breaking the number one rule: ‘don’t fuck on the first date.’

“we can use my shower then, it’s large enough for the both of us.” we? oh, you’re definitely breaking that rule now. “i didn’t say this was gonna be a joint effort, did i? i can wash myself, miguel.” you weren’t even convincing yourself with the breathy way you spoke, the way he was caressing you, the pure adoration in his voice was something you haven’t felt before. plus, this is the guy who’s willingly paying you to simply be around him — it’s a win-win situation.

“i know you can, baby —“ letting out a deep chuckle, miguel intertwined your hands and lead you towards the bathroom — “but it’s more fun with two, no?” the gentle pitter-patter of the waterfall shower reverberated through the silence of the room, the sound of fabric rustling followed shortly after. glancing down at your feet, miguel’s clothing was promptly discarded — your widened eyes trailing up his hefty frame.

“fucking christ…”

the man in front of you was nothing short of absolutely beautiful. despite spending everyday surrounded by older men, you never found yourself truly attracted to them until now — or maybe it was simply just miguel himself. “i thought you wanted to take a shower, muñeca?” oh, yeah, the shower. before you could even finish your thought, miguel was already occupying half of the space in there, leaving a small pocket for you to slide into.

the expeditious beating of your heart was muffled by the steady stream of water, but it was more than clear to miguel what you were feeling in that moment. the moment was strangely intimate, and dare i say innocent, for the predicament you found yourself in. his hands gently roamed your skin, barely making contact with any sensitive areas aside from fleeting brushes. he made a point to use his hands instead of a rag, claiming he could ‘clean you better than a flimsy cloth’.

it was truly getting unbearable, utterly frustrating. your subconscious and ovaries were in an intense battle of wits, when a third party made itself known in the worst way possible. you really had forgotten that miguel was as naked as you were until you felt the base of his cock slide between your ass cheeks, chest flush against his back. the slightest hitch of your already shaky breath earned another rich laugh from within him, thick fingers playing with the skin of your tummy.

“you feeling cleaner or what? i’m more than happy to keep going if you are, baby.”

of course you wanted him to keep going! you were already as wet as is, in every way possible. “i..i think you might’ve missed a spot.” the hand on your tummy paused, his breath hitting your ear as he bent down slightly. “i did? i like to consider myself very thorough, cariño — enlighten me.” you did your best to turn with the small space you had, looking up at him with a more confident expression than the one you wore previously.

“here.”

now it was miguel’s turn to be surprised, the tip of his finger brushing against your swollen clit before tapping against your slit. it had been so long since you had a real good fuck, and right now you were genuinely about to give this man some babies if he kept on smiling like that. “mm, looks like i did. forgive me for being so careless. i’ll make sure she gets extra attention.” his words trailed off as he sunk to his knees, the gentle spray of water splattering against his face.

he tapped your ass, lifting you up with one hand as he pressed you against the cool glass, legs resting on his shoulders. his pretty lashes were dusted with droplets of water as he gazed at you from between your thighs, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin as he kneaded your skin gently. his thick tongue was enough to completely spread you open, eagerly collecting your creamy essence.

miguel was moaning like a pure slut, you would think he got more pleasure in eating you out than you did. his eyes were rolled back, hips absentmindedly bucking to the rhythm of the shower as he sucked on your clit. the position was not uncomfortable by any means, but the unadulterated pleasure you were feeling made it hard to stay upright — nails raking down the expensive marble tiles as you practically grasped for straws.

“grab my hair, darling. i don’t want you to fall.”

whilst his words were slightly muffled, the undeniable concern in his voice had you moaning embarrassingly loud. miguel was clearly strong enough to hold you up all alone, so you surrendered the grip you had on the wall to rake your trembling fingers through his hair — tugging on the curly strands.

“nngh..fuck..”

he fucking whimpered. miguel o’hara, the richest and most powerful man in this city, was shamelessly whimpering between your thighs. that was certainly the biggest ego boost ever, the fact that it’s your pussy that has this huge man so drunk. pushing out your hips, you practically smothered his face — riding him mid-air as you felt the delicious sensations bubbling up inside of your stomach. breathless chants of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the panels.

“c-cumming! ugh— fuck, miguel!

the jerks of your body made miguel grip your ass tightly, licking his lips of your release as he shuffled upwards, grinning down at your disheveled form. “you’re breathtaking when you cum for me, beautiful. can’t believe you’re all mine.” he whispered against your lips, forehead to forehead as he kissed you for the first time. it felt like a million tiny fireworks going off inside of you, the previous tension in your body instantly melting away as you leaned into his touch — tongue’s pressing against each other as drooled slipped down your necks.

he kept his mouth latched onto yours as he gripped his leaking cock, dipping the pearly tip inside of your sensitive hole. his movements were unhurried, sloppily kissing you as he dipped in-and-out, in-and-out. it was a steady pace that you soon found yourself liking more than usual, a stark contrast to the inexperienced fucking’s you were getting before. “inside, please…i wanna feel you, all of you.”

you were too dangerous for this old man’s heart. having a pretty little thing like you beg for him to fuck you like you deserved, to mold that sweet cunt into the shape of his cock — it was all too tempting. he was more than willing to do anything his sweet baby asked him to, and he wasted no time in giving in to you. “shit, cielo, no one’s ever fucked you right, huh? she’s gripping onto me like a vice.”

he was right, in every sense of the word. you didn’t know how many partners he had before you, and really didn’t want to find out — but one thing was for sure, miguel knew exactly how to please you. your head fell against his chest, his hand lifting it up by your chin as he pumped into you. “tell me, dulzura, i’m the only one that’s made you feel like this? only man to fuck this perfect pussy right?”

he took the tiny nods and breathy whimpers as a yes, grinning like a madman as he revealed in the satisfaction of ruining you for anyone else — not like he was gonna let you go in the first place. his pace picked up vigorously, finding the perfect balance between pounding into your sore cunt and softly rutting against your ass. the skin where you both combined was tinged red, the on-going waterfall above unable to fully wash away the evidence of your cream on his pelvis.

“only you, miguel — no one…no one’s better than you. i’m yours, daddy.”

those words, hushed and warm, pushed his already inflated ego to the edge. his hips bucked widly, prodding at the spongy spot inside of you as she pressed his lips against yours once more. all sounds were trapped between your connected lips, muffling the choked squeal that left your lips and the guttural groan that left his as he came deep inside you. he did promise to clean you extra throughly, and what better way to do that than flushing out your canal with his cum!

he lazily rolled his hips against yours, ignoring the sticky liquid bubbling on the side of his spent cock. “did so well for me, my beautiful princess. i’m so proud of you.” the fluttering of your heart made you instinctively turn away, cheeks flaring with heat as you pouted — you really can’t believe you fucked on the first bloody date. your little tough act didn’t fool miguel, in fact it fuelled him even more. he continued to praise your very essence, worshiping the ground you walk on despite your protests — smiling softly as he sees your fierce resolve weaken. “there she is, you ready to let me love on you now?”

“yeah, yeah. but first, we need an actual shower. no fucking this time.”

“no promises.”

this was the last place you saw yourself in life, but maybe being in miguel’s arms were where you were supposed to be.

- thank you for waiting and make sure to watch ateez at coachella!!!!!

#cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #astv miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #miguel fanfic

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charmsponies · 8 months

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💛🎀Baby Lofty Restiration🎀💛

She had: Rusty Eyes, Faded Blush

Eyes aren’t completely fixed (they have been stained a little, and her left eye is actually offset in the eye socket and is a little wonky as a result) and her plastic is actually damaged under one of her eyes: but it’s okay with me she’s still cute to me scars n all ^^

Progress photos under cut

When I removed her head she had that ring of plastic some ponies have on their neck plugs. Remove this with scissors or by gently tearing it off

Bath time! Body gets an oxiclean bath and scrubbing with a magic eraser, head and tail got a vinegar bath so I could scrub away the rust best i could

This made her eyes look much better ^^ I was also able to remove those paint marks from her body pretty easily

Once I styled her i had to fix her blush with pastel dust. a beetle crawled across my floor when i did this. hello little friend

#my little pony #mlp #generation 1 #gen 1 #g1 #toys #my photos #my ponies #baby lofty #restoration #cleaning

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valeskafics · 3 months

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"Inauguration" - President!Coriolanus Snow x Bimbo Wife!Reader

a/n: an anon request for more wife!reader x coryo. can be read as a standalone or a followup to "insatiable" 🩷

Summary: You and Coryo celebrate his election.

Word Count: 2,500

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, daddy kink, semi public sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

It’s finally come. The night that you and Coryo have been planning for since you first met in elementary school all those years ago. The two of you would climb up to the roof of your parents’ house, gazing at the stars, talking about your hopes and dreams. Yours? You were never quite sure. They changed every few months, something Coryo found rather amusing. You were flightier than a bird in your plans for the future. An opera singer, a prima ballerina, a senator, a fashion designer. And yet, he supported you in each and every endeavor. His goals never once changed however.

He wanted to be the President of Panem.

With his family’s circumstances, it was a lofty ambition, but you were always his staunchest supporter. He knows he could take on the world with you at his side. And now, three years after your lavish wedding, he sits beside you, his hand on your knee, tapping his finger impatiently as the votes in the latest presidential election are tallied. You rest your hand over his, smiling at him sweetly.

“I’ll be proud of you whether you win tonight or not,” you assure him, resting your free hand on his cheek, “But you’re going to win. I know it.”

Coryo chuckles, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, nerves getting the better of him, “Thank you, baby. I just…”

“I know,” you say, kissing his forehead, the feeling of your lips against his skin soothing him in a way little else can, “I know, Coryo.”

And then, it’s as though time stops. Lucky Flickerman announces the results of the election.

That Panem’s President Elect is none other than Coriolanus Snow.

You cover your mouth, squealing with excitement before throwing your arms around Coryo in a tight embrace, “You won!”

Frozen in shock for a brief moment, Coryo quickly recovers, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, letting all the stress of the past few days melt away from him, relaxing in your arms as he threads his hands in your hair. He knows they’ll be coming to grab him to give his acceptance speech anytime now, but all he can think of at the moment is how perfect you feel in his arms, how gorgeous you look smiling at him so proudly.

“You’re going to mess up my hair,” you giggle, gently moving his hands away, “We have to look perfect for the photographers!”

“I’m the President, baby, I can mess up my wife’s hair if I want,” he laughs, bringing his lips to yours once again, ignoring your whines of protest as he tugs at your silken locks incessantly.

But you don’t mean your complaints. You never do. You love everything he does. The way he touches you, adores you, worships you. He’s the epitome of a perfect husband. Coryo continues moving his lips against yours, only pulling away when the urge to breathe hits him, quickly burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at your soft skin after catching his breath. You smile, running a hand through his platinum locks.

“You have to give your speech,” you remind him, moaning softly as his teeth graze your skin, “Coryo, you can’t stay back here forever.”

“I don’t think Panem would mind waiting a bit longer,” he replies, running his nose along your collarbone, inhaling your natural scent deeply, “Smell so good. The speech can wait a little longer while we celebrate.”

“Coryo,” you whine, pouting slightly in that way he’s always found so irresistible - after all, you’re so adorable when you beg, “You’ll make a bad first impression. Aren’t you the one who said first impressions are everything? You’re the President now!”

“Sure, first impressions are important,” Coryo murmurs, his hand sliding up under your dress to squeeze at the soft, warm flesh of your thigh, “But I want to enjoy my victory first.”

“Coryo, we are not having a quickie in here!” You declare, “Do you remember what happened at Ravinstill’s party when you dragged me off to the bathroom? It’s all people talked about for weeks!”

“Come on,” he pleads, his eyes boring into yours as he trails kisses along your jaw, “What’s the problem with me loving on my beautiful wife? Hm? My First Lady?”

“Didn’t say I had a problem,” you mumble, trying to hold fast to your insistence on not letting him have his wicked way with you, “But you have to make your speech. Coryo, those people voted for you-”

“They can wait a few minutes,” he says firmly, pulling you onto his lap so that you straddle him, your core pressed flush against the bulge in his trousers. Only your silk panties and his pants separate the two of you know as he grinds himself against you, groaning at the feeling, “I’ll do the speech, baby, don’t worry. Just in a few minutes.”

You giggle as his hands move to caress your ass, squeezing gently, kneading your flesh between his hands, his cock twitching at how soft you are beneath his fingertips, “We’ve been married three years and you’re still such a horndog.”

Coryo snickers, kissing you again, biting down gently on your lower lip, tugging at it, admiring how soft and red it looks at his touch before whispering, “It’s your fault, you know that?”

“My fault?!” You ask incredulously.

“Uh huh. Your fault. You make me so damn hot for you.” He nips at your earlobe, his breath tickling your skin as he murmurs, “You’re like my own little private seductress.”

His words make you burst into giggles, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady yourself, “You’re a dummy.”

“A dummy who tells the truth,” he insists, “You drive me crazy and I love it.”

You rest your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes, your voice so gentle and kind it makes his heart ache as you speak, “I’m so proud of you, Coryo.”

Coryo kisses you again, this time, slower, more tender but still just as deep. His lips are hot against yours, his tongue dancing against your own as you continue grinding yourself against him, the heat growing between the two of you. He runs a hand through your hair, brushing it off your shoulders in that way he always does. Always taking care of his pretty little wife.

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear that from you,” he admits, “I’m so overwhelmed by all of the praise, and I love it, really, but from you? It’s different.”

“Cuz I’m not kissing your butt,” you nuzzle your nose against his, making him laugh, “I’m just loving on you.”

He nods, beaming as he rests a hand on your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. You turn to place a kiss to his palm, the gesture so intimate that it makes him want to melt. This is what he’s always loved about you. How unapologetic you are in your love for him, your devotion to him. Ever since you were kids, the two of you stayed together through it all. And now, all these years later, here you are. The President and his First Lady. Which begs the question…

“Do I have to wear skirt suits now that I’m the First Lady?”

Coryo lets out a full-bodied laugh at the disgusted tone to your voice and the way you wrinkle your nose before teasing, “You can wear whatever you want, but I wouldn’t mind a skirt suit that shows off those killer legs.”

“But they’re boring!” You protest, “I look nicer in my dresses!”

“Mmm, you do look gorgeous right now.” Coryo runs his hands along your curves, cupping your tits, squeezing gently, admiring the way your eyes flutter shut at his touch, “This the one I picked out for you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, “The one you picked.”

“Love seeing you in things I’ve picked out for you. Bought for my sweet little girl,” he coos, groaning when the two of you are interrupted by a series of loud knocks on the door, “We’re coming!”

You take his hand, leading him to the aides who escort the two of you to the stage of the Presidential Palace. You grimace at Coryo slightly.

“Did you have to pick this dress? Everyone’s gonna say the First Lady’s a hussy…”

“Yeah, well, you’re my hussy. They can ogle all they want, but only I get to touch my pretty baby and rip that dress off of her,” he smirks, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling you into another kiss as Lucky begins wrapping up his intro, “I want you up there with me when I give my speech. Not standing at the side of the stage. I want you in my arms as I give it.”

Your eyes widen and you rest your hands on his chest, “Are you sure? This is your moment-”

“Our moment,” he corrects, “None of this would’ve been possible without you loving me and supporting me. This is your win as much as mine.” Coryo lowers his voice to whisper something else in your ear, “And when this is all over, my little hussy can take that dress off and-”

“Coryo!” You gasp, slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes going comically wide.

He bursts into laughter, his body shaking, completely wrapped around your little finger. The President of Panem, in the palm of your hand, helpless to do anything but be bent to your will. He gives a furtive glance at your lips before his name is announced and it’s time to walk out onto the stage. The two of you are a vision as you walk out with confidence, waving at the crowd, Lucky placing a bouquet of white roses in your grasp before shaking Coryo’s hand. Coryo turns to you, plucking one of the flowers from the bouquet, tucking it behind your ear with a grin. The crowd cheers as he presses his lips to your forehead. You are the youngest First Couple in Panem’s history and by far the best looking. The people adore you - the President and his gorgeous wife, waving to the throngs of people. The perfect couple.

You gaze up at Coryo adoringly as he gives his speech, and it’s evident to everyone watching how much you love him. And how much he loves you as he smiles back at you every so often, unable to focus entirely on the crowd. Rather than being annoyed by this, the people find it endearing. The charming, intelligent President and his kind, beautiful wife. You two are so in love, and you know that these photos will be plastered across all the magazines of Panem for the next few months.

As he wraps up his speech, Coryo pulls you into an extremely passionate kiss - one that isn’t quite appropriate for public consumption, your foot popping up as you wrap your arms around him. And the crowd goes crazy, clapping and screaming and cheering at the sight. It’s a beautiful moment, confetti falling all around you two as your love and Coryo’s victory are celebrated in tandem. Coryo announces to the crowd that he needs to go celebrate with his wife, surprising you when he hoists you over his shoulder and rushes off stage, earning another round of applause.

The two of you finally get the privacy you so desperately crave in the dressing room, where he sets you down on the table where your hair and outfits were done. You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist as you gaze up at him.

“Was I good out there, Daddy?”

“You were perfect, darling,” he coos, kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally your lips.

“I think you mentioned something,” you whisper breathily, “About ripping this dress off of me?”

“Did I promise that?” Coryo bites his lip, fingers toying with the halter strap of the dress, sliding down toward your cleavage, “I’m not one to break a promise.”

You let out a yelp of surprise as he keeps his promise in the most literal sense of the word and rips the fabric off of you, leaving you in just your silk panties and high heels. You stare up at him, mildly horrified.

“Coryo! I liked that one! I didn’t mean literally!”

“Oops,” he replies, quite unapologetically, “It’s a shame you don’t have anymore.”

You roll your eyes at the jab, smacking his chest playfully, “Coryo!”

“That’s not my name here, kitten, you know that,” he chuckles, pushing your panties to the side, his fingers tracing your slit, collecting the wetness that’s pooled there, teasing you before bringing his fingers to his lips, moaning obnoxiously as he tastes your essence, “Seems like I don’t have to do much to prepare you. Already so wet for me. Such a good girl.”

You unbutton his pants, freeing his long, veiny cock, the tip a dark pink color. You watch him shiver at your touch as you spread the precum that’s gathered at the head of his cock with your thumb, bringing the digit up to your lips to suckle at it with a giggle, tasting him as he did you. Before you can say anything, Coryo sheathes himself inside you with one thrust, leaving you a moaning mess, your bare back hitting the cool glass of the mirror as he ruts into you, holding your body against his own. Your lips part in a mewl of his name, bucking your hips up against his to meet his frenzied, almost animalistic pace.

Coryo fills you so perfectly with every thrust, the fat head of his cock slamming against your sweet spot, making you cry out, clinging to him desperately as he rolls his hips against yours.

“Going to look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you,” he rasps against your ear, “Your tummy all round with my baby, tits all heavy with milk. Fuck, baby, you want that, don’t you? You want me to fill this sweet little pussy up? Fuck a baby into you?”

It’s something the two of you have been thinking about for nearly a year now, and you find yourself nodding, head falling back against the mirror, “Yes, Daddy. Want that so bad, oh my God.”

“I’ll always give my pretty baby what she wants.”

You come around him, your entire body shuddering with pleasure as you reach the crescendo of your shared pleasure, feeling him give one, two more thrusts, before spilling himself deep inside of you with a growl of your name. He moves his fingers to collect any cum that’s dripped out of your cunt after he pulls out, pushing it back in with his fingers, thumb rubbing against your clit as he coaxes another orgasm from you, arduously slow, driving you mad with every touch.

“What do good girls do after they’ve come, honey?” Coryo asks.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” you grin cheekily, “Thank you.”

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo snow x reader #coryo snow x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games x you #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #coryo smut #my writing #coryo oneshot #bimbo!reader

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draconic-desire · 29 days

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Oculus Infinitum

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

917 notes · View notes