#I fuck around a lot but I never seem to find out
Making the External Match the Internal
I know, you think I’m crazy, giving up my body and life to end up in this tiny little effeminate body, being stomped on by my former body, and being spat on and degraded as I look up to my previous face – But believe it or not, it’s exactly what I’ve always wanted.
I never really wanted to be the big kid in class, but my genetics and my puberty had other plans for me. To go from the smallest kid in my school to the biggest kid over one summer was something I never really got used to.
Oh sure, I played along as best I could, doing all the typical stuff a big guy like me was supposed to do, like sports and being a stereotypical jock. But deep down, it wasn’t who I was – I was still that same small kid who used to be picked on and pushed around by the bigger kids, and you might think it’s weird, but picturing myself being used and abused like that is the only thing that gets me turned on.
All through high school, when I jacked off, I had to picture myself as my old smaller younger version, and my classmates towering over me, holding me down, stomping on me, spitting on me – Hmm, even now just thinking back on that, my smaller cock is getting rock hard in this little chastity sleeve I’m wearing. That’s right, I’m not allowed to touch my puny little cock at all now, which only turns me on even more!
I eventually decided to join the military, hoping that being ordered around and forced to do demeaning things would be something I’d enjoy, but come to find out, being in the military is pretty easy – After boot camp (where I never had the chance to jack off anyway), there wasn’t a lot of yelling – It might as well have been any other job I could be working.
I was sexually frustrated, and I had to find a solution – which is where little Mikey came in. He told me he always wanted to be a bigger man, tried hard to get bigger, but wasn’t getting anywhere. “My outside doesn’t match my inside,” he told me sadly, gesturing to his tiny body, “this isn’t who I am, not who I want to be.” He looked up at me with a hopeful smile then, “I want to be someone like you!”
After that, well, the solution for the both of us seemed plain as day.
And as I look up to my old face, seeing that hard look in his eyes, and that dominant smirk written on my mug. I know this was the best choice for both of us…
Wow… Check me out now! Look at this fucking massive body! Hell fucking yeah!
Man, I can’t believe my luck, to find a handsome muscular military dude who was willing to give up his body for scrawny pint-sized little old me. How often does that shit happen?
Being in the military kinda sucks though, it’s pretty fucking boring most of the time. A lot of bull shit I have to deal with every day, doing piddly little tasks for high ranked idiots who I have to constantly bite my tongue not to just up and bitch them out.
Fuck it, at least I only have another year of this crap, then I can get out – maybe start personal training or something? Hell, as much as I studied nutrition and working out for years trying to get bigger like this, it should be easy.
I gotta say though, it’s kinda weird, being all dominant to my old body like he wants me to do. But I do it because it kinda turns me on too – I’m kinda starting to get off on that feeling of dominance and control over someone smaller than me for once. Shit, hardly anyone was smaller than the old me unless they were a little kid – and now, I’m bigger than pretty much everyone! What a fucking rush!
Working out a body this big and this well-built is a dream come true. Being in the gym used to depress me, seeing my tiny body never grow any bigger; but now, shit, I can’t get enough of hitting the gym as often as I can, just so I can see this body in the mirror all pumped up and massive – just like I was always meant to be!
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nsfw !!! diluc x f!reader
(sort of) sub!diluc, puppy!diluc, he is so horny poor guy, knots, a lot of cum, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, light praise kink
Diluc is different. Not in a bad way or a good way, or in any “way” at all. It was simply a fact. Diluc was not the same as you or the Knights or Sara at The Good Hunter or any other human in Teyvat - that wasn’t also a hybrid.
You often forget about this; not because it’s not noticeable - the floppy ears and constantly wagging tail make it very obvious - but because that really seemed to be the full extent. He didn’t chase after cats or bark at squirrels, he walked and talked and ate and acted as a normal human would.
You’re aware that Teyvat is full of a lot of unique creatures and you’re also aware that most people don’t consider Diluc to one of those unique creatures - there was a whole group of hybrids in Springvale, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Since everyone seems to forget that Diluc is, in fact, different, no one expects it when he acts it.
“What’s wrong with Master Diluc today?”
Your gaze shoots over to the person speaking to you and you shake your head. There was nothing up with him. You’d seen him this morning, a little tired but the same as always. Sweet and quiet with his hair messy from sleep - he’d kissed you before he left and told you he loved you, which was nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’ve never seen him look sick before, but you should probably bring him some soup,” they tell you, turning before leaving to add, “and maybe keep him on a leash. Heard he almost got into a fight.”
When you finally got to the Winery - panicked and expecting him to greet you with bruised knuckles and a split lip - you see him, flushed and sweaty, with watery eyes and red strands of hair sweat slicked down to his face, you agreed that he looked sick.
He wasn’t, though. Not really.
When he spots you he races over, grabbing onto you and running his nose along your skin, from your cheek down to your collarbones.
“Sweetie,” you grab his face, moving him away from your throat so you can look him in the eyes. His pupils were blown out, dark with only a slim sliver of iris visible. “What happened?”
“They wanted to change the bedding.” Diluc mentions, gripping onto the clothes you were wearing. “But I didn’t let them.”
“No, Diluc,” he just wants to take you to bed, you know. “Someone told me you were acting weird.”
“I wasn’t,” he insists. “I was just looking for you.”
“You should have stayed here. What do you think you’re doing picking fights with the state you’re in?”
“I just wanted to find you.”
There’s no room to be mad at him, not when he’s looking at you the way he is, crowding close as if there was some force pulling him to you.
You pause, for barely a second before Diluc takes it upon himself to try to lead you inside. Without any trouble, because you don’t put up a fight - why would you?
Before you know it your clothes and his are being tugged off, he’s pushing you onto the bed and crawling on top of you. He’s hard, cock hanging heavily between his legs. Precum drips from the head like a broken faucet.
“Can I fuck you now?”
His hand grips around himself, pushing the head right against your cunt. Your hand comes to his shoulder, hoping that he’ll pause for just a minute.
“Have you come today?” He’s probably been hard for a few hours now - he doesn’t like getting off if it’s not inside of you.
“Never, never,” he shakes his head. “Not without you.”
You spread your legs a little, to accompany his body, and laugh - a little breathlessly - at his neediness. “You must have to come really bad, huh.”
He whines low. “Please let me fuck you. I’ll be good.”
“I’ll be so good. ‘M always good, your good boy.”
“Honey, you need to relax.”
“Can’t,” he pants against your cheek, breath hot where it hits your skin. “Can’t, need to fuck.”
He finds your hole easily, slipping all the way in until his hips sit flush against yours. He wastes no time in waiting for you to adjust to the intrusion, immediately beginning a sloppy, uncoordinated series of thrusts.
“It feels good, right?” He asks, watching your head fall back with the feeling of him. “Do you love it when I fuck you?”
His words are hurried, spewing out like water out of a broken dam - he speaks so much, not necessarily because he wants to but because he can’t help it. The pleasure of you wrapped around his dick is like a drug, intoxicating him and making words slip from his mouth with each push inside of you.
Unlike him, you are rendered speechless for the majority of this. He’s impossibly big, cock reaching far within you
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” you gush around him in response, walls hugging him with a soaked warmth. “So perfect for breeding.”
He’s dirty, spewing vulgar words while angling his hips so his dick feels even deeper inside. It makes your back arch, a high punched out moan sounding from you.
It spurs him on, tail wagging with each sound you make. “You sound so good,” his hips make a wet slap each time they meet yours, the room filling with repeated squelching sound that you’re sure could be heard from outside with how hard he was fucking you. “I cant wait to breed you full of my cum.”
His own words worked him up, the idea of breeding you the only thought in his mind. “Yeah, gonna fill you up, and- ‘nd you’re gonna have my puppies, right? G’nna have my puppies.”
“I will,” you answer in broken, high pitched cries, “I will, I will.”
“Fuck, so good,” he moans out, hands coming to your thighs, pushing them so you were in a new position. No matter how many times you did this, you would almost always end up in a mating press, Diluc pressed all close gasping about how this is better, you’ll be able to take all his loads like this.
You know, once he changes position and grips you tight, that the first round is almost over, and his knot will start to form.
Just like clockwork, it does.
The base of his cock swelled, knot taking shape and spreading your hole wide each time Diluc forced it inside. Soon - too soon - it is so big that he can’t thrust it in and out of you. It locks the two of you together, keeping a tight seal so nothing leaks out when he comes inside.
With how worked up he is, how backed up from not coming all day, it takes no time for him to release.
His dick pulsed, as if it had its own heartbeat, twitching inside of you with his release. Each pulse would send a rush of cum inside of you, continuing until you felt like you were going to burst. He always gave the most when he knotted.
You get a few minutes of rest to wait for his knot to go down, but by the way he’s sucking at the side of your neck, you know its only a matter of time before his hips start moving.
He hotly murmurs about how good your cunt is, telling you that he wants to fuck another knot into it while you gush wetness onto his cock.
Once his cock is no longer swollen at the base, he keeps his word, pounding you into the mattress and fucking his cum into your womb - thats what he had told you he wanted, to cum so deep that your would get filled. The two of you spend multiple hours trying to achieve this, with Diluc’s hips on overdrive and you boneless against the damp sheets.
This will continue, with hours of fucking that last several long days until the primal need to fuck has finally subsided.
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SPEAKING IN UPPERCASE (+ bonus)
(IMPORTANT NOTE: this post is a kind of re-do of this one , which i submitted to @papyrus-onlyblogokay 's blog and it was the first time i wrote a big post in my life . then when they post it , i got surprised because i forgot it and my way of writing was trash XD so because i was an idiot i also forgot to thank them for submitting it T^T I'm only re-doing it because of my way of explaining , not because it's submitted on your blog ! THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!)
what was i going to say .. YES .
a lot of people was wondering why papyrus SPEAKS LIKE THIS , and till now they didn't know why , and some of them say it's because of his "energetic nature" , few others say " because he's autistic" (and i agree that he's an autistic) .. but seems that no one digged that deep to find out the reason ..
EXPECT FOR ME HAHAHAHHAHA !!!!
so I'm going to tell you why papyrus (and some other monsters) speak in UPPERCASE ! LET'S GO!!
firstly , when someone speaks in all UPPERCASE ,it means they're load . but (especially in Undertale) why would make a person to speak load ?
because papyrus never speaks normally , I'll first analys the "others" so we know what is UPPERCASE (or speaking loadly) used for ? or what it means?
1. METTATON (the popular example) :
we all know that metteton always speaks in UPPERCASE until he transforms to metteton ex .
and the time he was in his box form , he was going along with alphys' plan . and even acts he's hurt when you attack him . he's ACTing . he's not showing you his real self .
and after he's mettaton ex , and after we know his acts are all a part of alphys' plan , he just .. speaks normally .
2.MIGOSP (an example that I'm sure no one knew XD):
"wtf who's that?" migosp is a cool monster we meet in ruins . when he speaks in UPPERCASE ?
basically , when there's other monsters around him ..
why i said he's " cool" ? he's just like the others ! he acts like a true enemy ! he attacks us!
then , when he's alone :
he speaks normally .. expect his text is shaking .
nothing like alone time ! finally I'm my self !! just look how he transformed from an enemy to a friend ! he even doesn't attack you , only dancing !
it seems that he acts friendly with you only when he's alone , maybe because he's afraid of doing so in front of others so they don't judge him for that. (you know , you're a human , and it's hard to be friends with you )
you know ? this monster reminds me a lot of papyrus .. especially when the narrator talks about him " it seems evil , but it's just with the wrong crowd" ...
so what does speaking load mean ?
means ACTING . or even LYING. and the person in front of you isn't being themselves . just like how metteton and migosp have shown us .
and those monsters ( mettaton and migosp) only spoke loud at some point , then had a chance to be themselves and spoke normally ....
does that mean ...
... Papyrus never showed his true self THE WHOLE GAME??
(I'm not surprised actually)
papyrus never stops speaking loud . HE ALWAYS TALKS LIKE THIS .
he .. never showed us who he's truly..
fuck you , papyrus ...
STOP BEING MYSTERIOUS !!!!! WHAT DID YOU LEAVE FOR YOUR BROTHER ??????!!! WHAT DID YOU EVEN LEAVE FOR THE WORD "MYSTERY" ????!!!
* i imagined this with gaster's voice *
Speaking in lowercase
so we finally know what speaking loadly means (and it's not a really good meaning)
but , what does speaking quietly (lowercase) mean then??
we know that sans speaks always like this , but like papyrus , we need another monster who spoke like sans once ..
in her determination experiment , she was quite anxious and afraid ,and when things went worse , she started speaking in lowercase . and when things went a little bit better , she spoke normally .
so , what does speaking in lowercase mean?
it means the person in front of you is anxious , and pessimistic . and is afraid of the future .
( and whether the text was uppercase or lowercase , it's not a "skelebros only " thing to do . )
and here we have ...
sans . who always speaks like this .
so .. is he THE WHOLE GAME , anxious and pessimistic ?
he is ..
"but ! in pacifist he shou-"
let me tell you something .. about the skelebros first .
if you noticed , they have shared points here :
sans is anxious ( according to speaking in lowercase) and papyrus is also anxious ( his battle theme is named after anxiety)
papyrus never showed his true self ( according to speaking in uppercase , and many evidences) and sans , um , well , at least he showed us that he has two sides .
( i LOVE their dynamic hduucownxballwozbznqlzo)
and probably nothing changed in their way of speaking in pacifist because sans may still afraid that you'll reset and is anxious , and papyrus won't show you his true face even here . (and papyrus only has shaking text more in pacifist )
also , i wanted to analyze gaster's lines depending on lower or upper case (because you know , he did speak like that ) but I don't think I'm the best person to do it .. maybe the best one would be @skellfamily or @papyrus-onlyblogokay or @paps-supporter :/
anyway !!! thank you for reading!!!!
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YOU PICKED YOONGI!
Warnings: Noncon turned dubcon, Somnophillia, fingering, oral sex (receiving),drug and alcohol mention, restraints, unstable Yoongi, hurt Yoongi, a bit of overstimulation.
quick note: As a lesbian we have slang such as pillow princess (receiver)and service/pleasure top (giver), I don't know if there is a straight lingo for this but either way Yoongi is a service top! he does NOT like to receive or be touched. I was going to say asexual but thats not really it. i also had no reason to hurt Yoongi this much.
Everything feels like a blur around you, faces fading into smiles of drunken laughter as you pass them. your feet carries you like they have a mind of their own, grass tickling your ankles as you bypass the eyes of willing strangers.
you only had one person in mind right now, with tunnel vision you carelessly push your way into the house an through the large pool of people. With every bump of shoulders and cuss word thrown your way for stepping on feet you silently curse yourself for getting yourself in this situation.
sure alcohol was great at times but it just seems to get the better of your emotional state, always bringing trouble right behind it like a pesky virus wrapped with a pretty golden bow just begging to be unwrapped.
you float through the crowd trying to find the familiar face now adorned with a bloody lip but with each face blurring, your eyes lagging to catch up with your brain you conclude he was no where to be seen.
The base of the music could be felt vibrating from your feet up to your fingertips, tongue heavy with whispers of excuse me when people refused to budge from your pathway.
you must have checked the entire bottom floor before you eye the stairway that lead to upstairs, feeling a sense of dejavu as you climb the stairs, legs wanting to give out from exhaustion ... the climb felt much longer then it had been earlier, every step feeling harder then the last. your fist rapture 2 single knocks on Seokjins door, hearing the quiet shuffle of footsteps before the door swings open to reveal Jins tired face, having been titled the peace keeper of the night ( a title he didn't ask for) as he ushers you into the bedroom.
closing the door with a sigh, eyelashes falling along his cheek as he blinks in your direction. His shoulder seemed to hang heavy on his back with the weight of the world, a look you have seen many times, bones cracking as he lifts his hand to rub the back his neck.
Before you could ask you heard the sound of retching in the closed bathroom door, the same bathroom you had been in not long before and your face threatens to redden at the memory.
"its Yoongi” he spoke with a new type of worry and exhaustion, his eyes flick between the closed bathroom door to you, “when I came back inside he was well on his way to putting Hoseok 6 feet underground , I think Taehyung talked him into it"
your mouth gapes slightly at the information, Yoongi was never the violent type but you have learned a lot tonight about the people you thought you knew.
"anyway” his hand comes up to rubs his eyes “what do you need? I thought I told you to go home"
your eyes wonder over to the closed bathroom door where you hear the stream of running water. any muffled sounds being captured behind the thick wooden door.
You lick you bottom lip as you gather what you wanted to say "I just wanted to check on him, I'm gonna go in and see him and then ill go home"
Careful fingers griped your hand, spinning you around with hope grappling in his eyes as they danced across your face. "He said not to let anyone in" his fingers were warm as they tangled with your own, you gently pull his hand from your arm, pretending not see the shift in his stance.
"Im not just anyone" you miss the melancholic gaze in Seokjin’s eyes ,your body turning to face the door to give a 2 rhythm knock to the door to let him know you were coming in.
a faint groan of 'fuck off' reached your ears through the thick wood as you push it open with quiet fingers, letting if fall shut behind you with a fain click
Yoongi was hunched over the sink as water soaks his bloodied shirt, a white towel stained with blood and water as he squeezes the excess water out, fingers working the fabric as he refuses to look your way like he already knew it was you.
droplets of water fall from the ends of his hair that managed to get wet from wiping his mouth clean, tongue running across his teeth at the mint flavored mouth mouthwash, trying to not bite his inner cheeks from all the tingles the alcohol was giving him.
You wait silently, hip resting on the cool marble slate of the sink, faucet still running and Yoongi watching it all pour down the drain in a continuous stream as he wipes his mouth his sleeve, wishing to be washed away with the water. bloody knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the marble edge.
His presence was so strong even though he hadn't said a word since you entered but neither have you, it should be awkward or full of hurt but its calming, its always been this way when it came to Yoongi
you desperately want to ask him about Hoseok and what even happened for Hoseok to lash out like that, was it about you?
The mental image of Hoseok clenching his jaw enough to make anyone cower and surrender, legs feeling tingly with fear as you know what it was like to be under that exact stare compared to Yoongis warm ones.
Yoongis eyes felt entirely different on you tonight but you couldn't exactly pinpoint the reason.
A sigh shatters the silence you had been so calmly lathered in that you don't notice your eyes had glazed over, becoming distant in thought. when he finally spoke you feel it touch every nerve and hair on your body. deep within his chest as he pushes the words from his throat
" what should I do?"
you unfold your hands to push yourself from the count to grab his hands, he had hastily scrubbed the blood away but the cuts were still fresh, you resist the urge to kiss the cuts, letting your voice speak for you.
"lets go home, your drunk"
It doesn't take long for the cab show up, promising Yoongi that you would pay him back later but you don't think he much cares as he slumps in the back seat, his head hitting mindlessly on the cool glass window. A much needed feeling to his overheated body and throbbing pain in his jaw.
Before you could give any instructions to the driver he was butting in and giving your home address, you don't question it knowing he slept over all the time when he was bored or out of food, he would never tell you it was actually because he was really lonely
"what should I do " he repeats the same thing, his eyes closed and arms folded and your not sure if he was speaking to you or himself until his eyes open in a languid effort to face you with the roll of his head on the seat.
His eyes were tired, all fight drained down into the very soles of his feet that he used to drag himself into the cab.
Voice catching in your throat, you don't know the context but give him an answer anyway "whatever you think feels right" with that he hummed, sounding syrupy deep in chest with a look of lost certainty. His fingers clenching and relaxing as he looks out to the city scape, people and yellow lights blending into a heap of throw up, looking like Christmas lights.
You step out into the brisk air with what little warmth Yoongis body supplied. you hold onto his body weight with a roll of your eyes, letting him mumble and curse into the quiet air about how 'that asshole making a sharp turn on purpose' rubbing the side of his head that hit the side of the glass.
You swiftly unlock the door, not knowing just how hard it was with extra body weight on your left side. The door eventfully flings open with your focused effort and you let him stumble onto the couch with a heavy thud followed by a drunken moan, his body aching from exerting himself too much tonight.
Min Yoongi was like an 10,000 word book, a plain black cover that held so many mysteries that people would be too scared to read it or get bored trying to uncover what was really showing underneath, coffee stains lingering on unread pages that no one had bothered to read up to.
fighting to catch your breath as you walk into your kitchen leaving Yoongi to mumble to himself
you suddenly feel like you went back a year, memories of your best friend stumbling though your front door decorated in the fresh moonlight and bruises, alcohol on his breath as he crashed on the couch with no hint of an explanation and you would sit in the kitchen well after he was asleep and cry.
you thought things were better now but the pain in Yoongis eyes and whatever led him to break his sobriety must have been too much for him, you were much too wrapped up in yourself and had neglected your friend.
You gather enough medical aid to heal his busted lip and bruised hands all while you pour two glasses of water, letting it overfill by accident, thoughts and distractions plaguing your head that you don't notice Yoongi had gone quiet.
only silent muffled sobs.
Your shoes echo on the kitchen tiles as you move yourself back into the living room and your heart breaks at the sight of the man before you
seated up with his elbows rested on his knees, head in his hands as his shoulders rock with every sob. your mouth goes dry at the sight, every swallow feels like sandpaper.
your stunned into silence, mouth opening and closing as your hands ocupy the cold glass of water, starting to slip from your hands from the condensation gathering on the outer rim.
you had only seen Yoongi cry a few rare times and your brain short-circuits, like sticking a knife into an electric outlet your heart jumps in pain. remembering his tears when you had fallen off your bike as your 11 years old self cried against the dirt, blood dripping from your knee, then when his mother had passed in your last year of graduation, she never got to see her son go to college and succeed in his dream.... and then you have now, tears leaking from his fingers as you sit next him, a hand on his knee was all you could offer his as you let him cry beside you.
"you know I like you don't you"
your throat croaks from exhaustion, having sat on this couch with him so many times but now it was so different with bleakness settling into your skin.
"yea Yoons, never leave each others side remember, ill be there whenever you need me"
Yoongi sighs in frustration beside you , tears stopped flowing down his cheeks as he rubs them with irritation "that's not-" he looks at you hesitantly, letting his eyes move from your eyes down to your nose and finally your lips.
His hand coming to clasp around your knee and he leans in, soft mouth over coming your own, his wet cheeks catching on your skin as he tilts his head deeper, your head spins in a whirlpool of complete shock, your skin burning up despite depth of the cool night, he swallowed the surprised gasp, pushing deeper until your back hit the arm of the couch.
His lips molded into your own perfectly that it was hard to push at his chest gently butt hard enough to have him disconnect from your mouth.
Any buzz and lick of alcohol felt like it had drained from your body, your mind clear but so so hazy as you look away from his intense gaze. there was nothing but the sound of your rapid heartbeat, your hands fiddling with the fabric of your skirt
"i- Yoongi I dont-"
Before you could finish he was turning your head with a single finger, lips softer now and not as rushed, stealing the oxygen right out from your lungs. The kiss ends as soon as it started and your left feeling hollow when he wouldn't meet your eyes ,truing to lay on the couch with the throw pillow tucked under his arm, letting you that your company was no longer welcome
"good night y/n"
You don't say anything else as you leave him in the sad silence that seemed to coat the room like a fresh coat of paint, you had to let the paint dry and sober up before you could pry.
your door clicks shut and seems so much louder then normal and not because it was 3 am either.
despite the uneasy feeling of guilt you undress yourself as quietly as you could, stripping yourself until you were bare, now in the space of your room you feel your eyes droop, heavy with sleep.
you fall asleep almost instantly as your head hits the pillow
Yoongi doesn't sleep
Not a single bit
He didn't feel quite the same with the alcohol still running like morphine through his blood, he missed it.
But he couldn't get you out of his head, like a approaching deadline that was due in 24 hours time he just couldn't help but want to put it off but worry about it at the same time. Usually the drugs Jimin or Taehyung sold him was enough to generously put him out of reality long enough to not care about anything but he sat here on your couch sober as ever.
Sure sucking Jimins dick for a fix would have been ideal and maybe if he was drunk enough he would have.
Hand resting over his head in thought, thoughts about you of course what else would he even think about. He tried not to think of the bitter taste in his mouth, sour at the way you had pushed him away and instead try's to remember the way your lips tasted against his own.
couldn't help the way his cock pulsed thinking about how soft you would feel everywhere else.
He needed some fresh air but first he would check on you, why ? he doesn't know .Maybe from this irrational fear that one day you would just be gone, everyone else in his life had left him so whos to say you wouldn't get sick of his shit and leave him to.
He gets up on padded feet and carries himself to your door, letting it fall open with a soft creak, he would only look. Leaned against the framing of your door as his eyes adjusted to the room.
There was enough moonlight in the room that he could make out the deep breathing of your body, your blanket half thrown over your body to revel your legs.
Chills move through his body from the slight breeze coming in from your open window, his eyes narrow. It was dangerous tot leave your window open at night.
He makes a move to close the heavy wooden frame, closing it softly as not to wake you. frowning when he noticed there was no lock on your window but he could have sworn there was one, he would fix it tomorrow.
He turns back to look at you and that maybe have been his biggest mistake, or maybe a blessing in disguise. A perfect few of your pretty cunt, folds squished between your thighs
Here you were all spread out for him, just for him looking so inviting and he had to swallow. he would only look. no touching
He moved on auto pilot, his body moving closer like you were both tied by a string of fate, you were his fate and he couldn't look away . His eyes casting over your body as he pulls the remaining blanket from your sleeping form, cursing under his breath in a whisper to see your naked body presented so beautifully.
maybe he could touch just a little.
A little voice at the back of his head tells him to leave, don't violate her body you sick fuck but the bigger voice ...the alcohol tells him that maybe, just maybe you'll love this just as much as him, hand slowly makes its way across the dip of your side, fingers feeling the smooth surface as he trys to study every curve and dip. you stir in your sleep and he stills, dread filling him as you toss to lay on your back.
He moans deep in his chest, his hand coming up to his lips to silent himself, your legs seeming to have spread open in your unconscious state to get comfortable.
Unknowing you had just given him the perfect view of yourself, giving yourself to him . the words you had said to him vibrated around in his head. Do whatever you think is right Yoongi is what you said and that's all he needs, this feels right. to be buried between your legs would feel right.
He picks up your shoe and in his haste of desperation rips the lace string right from it, he would buy you another shoe.
He worked calmly, tying one of your wrist to your bed, just a precaution.
Finally he was were he was supposed to be as he kneels at the foot of the bed, slowly, gently feeling the soft skin of your thigh as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed
mouth watering at the sight of you, he waste no time to suck two fingers into his mouth, coating them generously in saliva as he keeps an eyes on your sleeping figure, fingers glisten in the twilight. you already belonged to him and you didn't even know it, yet.
The first touch of you with his delicate soaked fingers feels like the first hit of morning coffee. fingers tracing over your clit with a barley there touch. your body twitching under his control.
All of this was for him, the first drag of his pink tongue was when he knew there was no going back, the first taste of your sweetness coats his tongue, his wet fingers spreading you further apart. alternating between long laps and pointed rhythmic circles.
You start to come around when a single digit finds its way to your fluttering entrance, squeezing around the intrusion and waking you in your confused state.
Your body feeling like it was weighed down with bricks, far to heavy as sleep still dances around in your brain and you would have let it take over if not for the gentle pressure between your thighs
"w-what" your eyes catch the sight of a pink tongue, the usual relaxed eyes of your best friend catching your own as they close, a deep hum at the taste of you.
"y-yoongi wait" you try to close your legs at the sudden change of pace of his tongue, strong licks and soft lips moving against you. "oh god oh my god"
Any bit a sleep still left in your body was trashed awake by the menicing grip on your thighs, dried blood on his knuckles turning a fresh tint of pink as he exerts the use of his dull fingernails, leaving crescent moon bruises on the insides of your thigh.
Your head swims in pleasure and confusion, eyes still clinging to sleep when your mind was wide awake, still not wrapping you head around the thought, Min Yoongi between your legs... your half convinced it was a dream. Another finger joins the first, your body thrashes but your pulled back by a force around your wrist, a single white string keeping you placent to his relentless pace.
The sloppy sounds of his tongue on your clit had you burning from shame. lips catching in your teeth when you try to speak, getting swallowed by the soft pleasure. The lust filled haze is broken like ice cold water had been pored over your body.. a resounding slap to your most sensitive parts. unshed tears gathering in your pain and confusion. legs pulling up with pain.
Its when you finally see his face you cant help the air that leaves you, his chin shiny with evidence of your arousal, his fingers still pumping into you with a dreamy glint.
your head digs into the soft pillow, mantras of hitches moans and oh god no, no leaving you with the increased pace of fingers
when you squeeze your thighs around his wrist but it was no use when his free hand came to hold you wide open, vulnerability coating your cheeks pink. unrestrained hand coming up to cover your eyes to keep some dignity.
"Good girl, I just want to see you cum for me, can you do that for me baby, cum all over y fingers like a good slut?”
Your hips threated to lift off the bed but its hard with the hand holding you down against the mattress, his mouth ascending back down to lick softly over you and eyes snap close. the hand that had been holding you open had snaked its way up your body, leaving a trail of wetness in his wake as he closes his palm over your breasts. no no no you shake your head at the overwhelming pleasure his tongue was bringing you. your muscles seezing up at the new feeling of being so intimately touched.
No-one had ever quite touched you like this, with this much burning passion and attention you feel bare, stripped down to the very bone. exposed at the mercy of your best friends mouth.
Its when you felt the texture of his thumb pressing in hard circles very your exposed clit do you let out a broken moan, trying to pull yourself away and into his touch simultaneously.
His low chuckle and airy breathe was felt against your knee. he could feel you squeeze against his fingers in an effort not to loose yourself.
Somewhere along the way to your impending orgasm does the air shift, the first lights of dawn falling over his body in a beautiful glow. the pink in his flushed face from having been buried so deep in your cunt. dreamy orbs gleaming in the new radiance of the sunlight as his eyes devoured every inch of your shaking body, fingers still curling inside of you.
The slow torturous lick of his tongue had you pulling on his blonde locks, hair once neatly styled in the begging now a mess in your grip. He groans at the weak pull, your muscles giving up on you from exhaustion. You felt the edge of an orgasm, tension already building from early on into the party, an orgasm was long overdue
when he pulls away again, fingering catching in his mouth as he licks them clean. “yoongi, please" your chest rises with every breath, “fuck me” you fail to catch your breath with the intrusion of his two fingers.
He recoils internally at the comment, wanting nothing more then to sink into you and really show you how much you drove him up all wall but...
people say things in the heat of the moment weather that was in the middle of a heated argument, people spewing out hurtful things that wernt at all true just to get little bit of satisfaction, the same goes for now. You don't know if you really wanted it as much as you though but it was a little hard to think with his fingers curling with each press of lips on your hip bone, fingers slowed to a gentle stretch.
In favor to ignore you completely opting to mouth away to bring you close to an earth shatter orgasm, a first for you because where Hoseok liked to receive pleasure from your body Yoongi only liked to give. Yoongi wasn't good with feelings but he knew how to give pleasure in the form of love confessions against your heat.
i love you i love you i love you
he said it over and over
The whimper in your throat for something more hade him driving his fingers faster, jaw aching but tongue working fast to bring you to the edge
Its not that he didn't want to have sex with you and he willed the forming tears down his throat. He got paid to have sex, sex meant nothing special to him and hasn't for a long time. The overwhelming thought of leaving himself bare for you to judge, making love to you ? he wanted it but he didn't deserve it
His fingers twitch as his mind distracts him. only now noticing your screams and he detaches his mouth from you. slick pooing on his tongue
'please, no more, h-hurts" years streaming down your face as overstimulation takes hold of your body. He could spend eternity between your thighs, He wanted to engrave his name with his tongue so deep into every inch of your pleasure that its all you would be able to think about every time you saw him.
With one last final stroke of tongue he looks at you, your eyes half lidded as you look at hi sweaty hair and swollen lips, a smile threatening to spill from his face wen pain erupts in the side of his head, abruptly standing up from his knees. the pain in his head flashed hot, a constant ring or a cry for help squeezing at his brain.
He looked at your tear stained face, guilt eating him from the inside out. you looked confused lying there in your own sweat and heavy breathing, expecting something, anything but all Yoongi does is run
"i-im sorry i- fuck"
I love you
He leaves your bedroom, the floor swaying with every step as sweat pooled at the sides of his head, he manages to get to the door not remember how he got there but remember the way you cried his name in desperation for him to come back
His finger tips were ice cold as he reaches for the phone in his pocket, it rings a few time before Jimins airy voice filters through. The morning dawn wind outside making it a bit hard to hear
"Hyung? whats up"
He looks up, not allowing himself to cry, throat bobbing harshly as he wets his bottom lip, he could still taste you. voice horse and jaw aching.
"does your offer still stand?"
He could feel the other males smirk through the phone, belt already being unclasped.
"for you anything, ill text you the address"
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Last Call (pt two)
Pairings: bartender!Chris Evans x british!female!reader
Warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of cheating, SMMUUTT, violence (just one punch), threats of more violence, i think that’s it, it’s looonng (longest i’ve ever written)
Summary: Your boyfriend cheated on you, with your best friend… So you decided to drown your sorrows at your local, how did that end up with almost sleeping with the bartender?
“So let me get this right...” Sam started, as you were both sat on his couch. “The hot bartender-”
“Chris.” You correct him
“Whatever, he’s a bartender who’s hot. Not the point.” Waving his hand, “The point is he practically invited you into his bed... And you said no?!” Letting a tut fall from his lips when he saw you nod, shaking his head as he drank his beer.
“Pretty much. I was piss drunk-” You tried to lie only to be cut off by Sam.
“No, you really weren’t.”
“I was upset-”
“About a guy who cheated on you, with your friend.”
“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.” You stated, messing with the label on your beer bottle.
“I know, but the best to get over someone is to get under someone else.” He encouraged, clinking his bottle with yours.
Sam always had a talent of making you feel better when you felt like shit, or making things seem a lot simpler than they were. You’ve known him for almost ten years, and had lost contact with him four years ago when he moved to Boston for his job, but the day that you landed you met up at the bar and after spending five hours catching up he had worked his way back into your life, meeting you once a week at the bar to talk about everything and anything, you were shocked to find out he’d gotten married since moving to Boston. It didn’t take long for you to become close with his wife, Claire, you would often spend time with the pair in their apartment or tagging along to dates when Jacob was busy.
He hated your ex, calling his number the second he met him, claiming he got a ‘sleaze bag vibes’ from him and Sam was never wrong about stuff like this, you should’ve listened.
“C’mon!” He cheered, standing up and taking the beer out of your hands and putting them on the coffee table. “We’re going out.”
“No, we’re not, I have work tomorrow-”
“Booo!!” Pulling your hand and yanking you from your seated position on the couch, now standing. “That didn’t stop you from staying out until 2am with the bartender-”
“His name is Chris.” You reminded him again, knowing he was doing it for a reaction from you and you hated to admit that it was working.
It had been a week since that night, you had become busy with work that you were too exhausted to call in on your way home was what you would tell yourself and Sam, but in reality you were nervous, you didn’t know what to say to Chris you had practically shut him down and avoided him for a week, you didn’t know if he would want to see you again.
The memory of Chris pressed against you, his erection pressing into you and his breath fanning over you was burned into your brain like it was yesterday, he had got you that hot and bothered that you went home and used your little pink vibrator to the memory of him.
Hands down, one of the best solo orgasms you’ve had.
“We’re going to that bar, before you say no,” watching as you opened your mouth to speak. “I don’t care.” Grabbing his wallet and pushing you out of the door, not letting you protest.
The familiar smell of beer and vodka filled your nostrils, it was a quiet night with a few customers dotted around the bar, you observed as you walked towards a booth but you felt Sam grab your arm. “Don’t think so, we’re sitting at the bar.” Pulling you along with him.
God, you fucking hated him.
“You’re an arsehole.” You sneered, yanking your arm as you pulled a stool out to sit on.
“Y/n?” Chris greeted a little too enthusiastically, surprised to see you.
“Hey Chris,” giving him a small wave, the awkwardness of the situation began to kick in. “This is my friend. Sam, Chris.” Pointing between them both, they gave each other a nod with a quick ‘hey’.
Since that night Chris hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, but what’s new there. But this time was different, he couldn’t get your giggle or smile out of his mind, every time he closed his eyes you were there. He wouldn’t admit it but he was convinced you had been avoiding him since that night, and he didn’t like it. He had tried to even come up with an excuse to ring you and ask where you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it without sounding pathetic.
“Your normal?” He asked you both, but his eyes never left you. He recognised Sam from the times that you both would occupy a booth and spend hours talking, at first he was weirdly jealous but after seeing Sam’s gold wedding band those thoughts disbarred as quickly as they appeared. Not giving you time to answer, two bottles of your regular choice of beer was placed in front of you.
“He knows your order-”
Your foot met his leg quickly when Chris had briefly stepped away to serve a customer, reaching down as he groaned in pain, rubbing the spot you had just kicked.
“How’ve you been? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.” He asked now stood back in front of you, trying to make it sound casual as he busied himself with putting glasses back.
“Works been kicking my arse.” You had to force your eyes to look away from him, he was too intoxicating, drinking in his appearance. Tonight he was wearing a red and black plaid flannel, a white shirt underneath, exposing the top of his few tattoos along his collar bones, a black NASA cap sat perfectly on top of his head and black jeans. You noticed the dark stubble forming, and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking what it would feel like grazing against your thighs, making you clench them shut.
He swallowed thickly at the sound of your accent filling his ears, he didn’t realise how much he liked hearing it until now. It stood out more when you used the British version of words, it did things to him.
“Y/n...” The familiar voice of your ex-boyfriend, Jacob, sounded from behind you and you felt your entire body freeze and suddenly become tense.
You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around, looking over at Sam who just nodded and you noticed his jaw was now clenched and fists balling on his lap. “What do you want man? You’ve already done enough.” Sam spat at him, making Jacob cringe, he’d been waiting for the opportunity to blow up at Jacob.
“I wanted to talk to Y/n”-
Chris’s whole demeanour had changed you’d noticed, he was no longer relaxed and making himself busy but stood with his arms folded, glaring at your ex-boyfriend, who was stood a little too close for his liking. His jaw also clenched and his eyes dark.
“Forget it.” Sam now stood from his stool and in front of you blocking you from Jacob’s view, “she doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Stop being such a fucking guard dog, she’s my girlfriend-”
“She stopped being your girlfriend the moment you fucked her friend-”
“Alright guys, take it easy.” Chris said, suddenly stood on the other side of the bar and inserting himself between both men. “I think you should leave.” He was trying to be polite and professional, not wanting you to be uncomfortable, as he looked over at Jacob.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jacob spat at him, the stench of vodka now oozing from him.
“Chris. This is my bar. Now get out.” His tone was now hard, squaring up to him and easily towering over him, the bar had quietened down slightly some customers now wanting to listen in.
You had now turned round, Sam was still stood in front of you but you managed to extend your body sideways, wanting to interject to stop things from escalating but it was like you were glued to the seat, not being able to move.
“Whatever,” looking between Sam and Chris he gave up knowing he wasn’t going to win, glaring over their shoulders at you. “Slut-”
Jacob wasn’t even able to finish what he was saying before Chris’s fist connected with his face, knocking him backwards and onto the floor, the entire bar was silent.
“Chris!” You shouted, jumping from your seat now standing in front of them both, hand on his chest. Seeing this side of Chris shocked you, he’d always come across as a calm and polite man. Not that you were complaining, he had just defended your honour, it made your stomach tie in knots. The bar was now completely silent, the only sound was the music playing lowly through the speakers, the air was thick as his customers watched with bated breath.
“I’ll not tell you again.” His breathing was calm but his face was hard. “Get. Out.”
Jacob’s eyes flittered between you and Chris, scrambling to stand up, “I see it didn’t take you long to move on.” Nodding towards Chris, holding his nose to try and stop the bleeding.
Chris took another step forward, his body now connecting with yours, making Jacob take a step back in fear. The look on Chris’s face was unrecognisable, he looked straight past you, his eyes only focusing on your bleeding ex-boyfriend.
“Would you like some black eyes to go with your nose?” Your hand flew to Chris’s chest to try and stop him when you saw him take another step moving you with him, looking over at Jacob and pointing to the door.
“Just leave, you don’t deserve anything from me.” Your tone harsh, not wasting another second you turned back to face Chris, picking up the hand he used to punch him, noticing that it had already doubled in size. “C’mon, let's get some ice on that.” You instructed softly, almost giving you whiplash from how quickly your tone had changed.
The feel of your touch sent a surge of calmness through his body, his posture instantly relaxed and he found himself lacing his fingers with yours, despite the pain from his knuckles. You grabbed a rag from behind the bar, filling it with ice from the machine and pushed Chris through the back door which led to a dimly lit storage room.
“Here,” you guided him to sit on a barrel, standing between his thighs, the cool touch of the ice made him hiss. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Chris had no idea why he punched Jacob or why he felt the need to protect you or even why your touch had his heart racing and palms becoming sweaty. He just knew he would do it again, without question. His free hand falling to your hip, to pull you closer. Watching you intently as you nursed his hand, holding the ice rag in place.
“Why’d you do that?” You finally spoke, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“Because that guy is a dick-”
“So, you punch every guy that’s a dick?” Messing with the fabric of the rag, pressing it down onto his knuckle a little more, watching as he winced from the burn.
“If they’re in my bar, yeah.”
You couldn’t stop the disappointment surging through your body as you looked back down at the rag, hoping for a different answer but you didn’t know what answer you wanted to hear. You were annoyed that the altercation had led to violence, even if you had imagined punching Jacob yourself many times in the past two weeks, hurt that he called you a slut-
Your thoughts were interrupted when Chris lifted your chin with his index finger, forcing you to look at him, closing the gap between you both and his lips finding yours. It started out as an awkward peck, you pulling back so there was only two inches of space between you both as you searched his eyes. For a second Chris thought you were going to leave, so his grip on your hip tightened to hold you in place.
All doubts left his mind when you cupped his face with both hands, letting the iced rag fall to the floor and kissed him again, the feeling of his soft lips against yours made your mind race. Holding the back of your head to deepen the kiss, as they moved slowly against one another, when his tongue slipped into your mouth you couldn’t hold back the moan.
Both hands now gripped your hips, his knuckles twinging with pain as his grip tightened but he chose to ignore it. Sliding both hands down to your ass, giving it a squeeze before moving to the back of your thighs, gripping them. Lifting one leg over his at a time, so that you were straddling him.
His lips fell from your lips, traveling down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the skin making you hum in response making his hips buck upwards involuntarily, his clothed erection rubbing against your area, making you throw your head back at the feeling. “Fuck, Chris.” You mewled, your nails digging into his shoulders making him growl against the nape of your neck. The sound of his name falling from your lips was everything he imagined and more, turning him on even more.
It was like you both forgot about the world outside of the storage room, both getting lost in each other's touch, not that you were complaining. You felt his hands slid upwards of your body, the feeling of your shirt being pushed up revealing your bra to him, his head immediately dipped down to kiss the valley of your breasts.
“Chris,” your words came out weak, not wanting him to stop.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this-”
“No, Chris...” Pulling from him slightly, his gaze meeting yours as he checked you over making sure he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, the look made you soften instantly, cupping his cheek with your left hand. “I don’t want my first orgasm with you to be in front of your customers.” Giving his lips a quick peck before getting off of his lap, your statement stilled Chris. “Think you can wait until after close up?” Your voice was sultry, your palm beginning to rub him through his jeans, you knew you were being mean but watching the brunette become flustered under your touch made you excited.
“If you keep doing that, then no.” Grabbing your wrist, halting your actions, his heart swelling at the sound of your giggle.
“I’m gonna stay... Help Chris close up.” You thumbed over your shoulder to Chris who was clearing down the bar as you stood by the door, you, Sam and Chris were the only ones left in the bar.
“Yeah, sure,” Same said knowingly, opening the door before turning to look back at you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a small wink before leaving, without hesitation you locked the door and headed back towards the bar. “Need some help?” Now leaning over it.
The past two hours had been painfully slow, your thighs sore from how tight had been holding them together trying to distract yourself by talking with Sam, but your eyes would always find Chris as he worked. The want you felt for him growing with each passing minute, so when he finally called last call, you tried to stop yourself from practically vibrating with excitement.
“Help me stack chairs?” Chris asked, walking around the bar as you nodded.
He couldn’t stop himself from watching you as you stacked the chairs on top of the tables, watching you bend over slightly, the curve of your ass looked amazing in your jeans, hugging it perfectly. The sight made him harden again.
“Enjoying the view?” Your voice halting his thoughts, he just silently nodded not even embarrassed that he had been caught, his bottom lips between his teeth.
A few found feeling of confidence was radiating off of you, stepping back towards the table and pushing yourself upon it, your legs dangling and your eyes never leaving Chris’s as you lifted your index finger beckoning him with it.
Without hesitation he found himself between your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he pulled you into him, your lips finding his. The kiss was needy and fast, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip and pulling it slightly making you moan.
“You said,” you mumbled against his lips before pulling back, both breathless. “Something about wanting to do this-” You cursed yourself for interrupting the moment, but his words had been playing on your mind for the past two hours.
“That’s what you wanna talk about, right now?” He asked, his chest moving up and down rapidly as he tried to gather himself. When he saw you nod, playing the fabric of his shirt he let a breath out through his nose. “Yes, for three years I have thought about nothing but you,” he lent down to your ear, “fantasised about having you on one of these tables, how my name would sound falling from your lips, how you’d feel wrapped around my cock...” He trailed off once he heard you whimper below him, wrapping his arms around your thighs, pulling you to edge of the table. “Trying to imagine how you’d taste...” He spoke slower now as he unbuttoned your jeans, your hips bucked up, signalling him to pull them down which he did without hesitation, along with your panties, groaning as he saw how soaked they were, being pulled away from your pussy.
“Chris, I need you.” Was all you could muster, your brain becoming foggy and your body pulsed with arousal. Raking your hands up his clothes chest, pushing the flannel off and lifting his shirt up, knocking his cap off whilst doing so making you both giggle, them joining the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning forward and placing wet kisses over his tattoos, your tongue hitting them making Chris growl in your ear, his large hand now rested on the table supporting him to stand, as your hands worked at the button of his jeans and shoving them down his thighs with his boxers.
You didn’t care that you it had only two weeks since you’d been single, you didn’t care that it was in the middle of Chris’s bar, you didn’t care about anything other than how much you needed him and how much you’ve needed him for the past three years.
Reaching between you both again you grabbed his now hardened cock and began pumping it slowly, his head falling to the crook of your shoulder letting a loud moan out, biting down on your shoulder, “fu-fuck” you muttered out at the new found pleasure.
Did you like that? Is that a new kink?
“Take it off.” He demanded, pulling at the hem of your shirt, once it joined the other items on the floor he reached behind and unclasped your bra immediately, letting it fall. “You’re gorgeous,” before dipping his head and taking a nipple into his mouth, your head falling back, your eyes closed as you moaned.
He had to hold your hips down, stopping them from bucking up, “someone’s eager” he boasted, his face now inches apart from yours.
“Three years, I don’t intend to wait any longer.” Taking matters into your own hands, reaching between you both and guiding him to your entrance, but he halted your movements by grabbing your wrist and shaking his head.
“Lie down.” He commanded again, using his index finger to push you back lightly. You hissed at the cold surface hitting your back.
Guiding himself to your entrance he didn’t hesitate slamming into you, your back instantly arched and loud cry fell from your lips, he stilled inside of you making sure you were ok to continue, when you silently nodded, he began thrusting into you. The sight of your breasts bouncing as his pace quickened almost made him come undone then and there.
“Fu-fuck, Y/n... You’re so tight.” The sound of your moans filling the bar, his name falling from your lips was like heaven to him, just as perfect as he imagined. Grabbing your hips to give himself more momentum he felt his pleasure taking over, hard slaps of skin now sounding throughout the bar.
“Ch-Chris,” the all too familiar coil building up in your stomach, your back still arched, you were becoming dizzy, seeing stars and he drove you to your orgasm. “I’m gonna-”
“Cum for me,” he gritted out, his thumb now finding your throbbing clit, with his free hand his lifted your leg and rested it on his shoulder, the new position letting him get deeper.
“Chris!” You cried out as the coil in your stomach snapped, your high taking over your body as you convulsed underneath him, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chased his own peak. “Fill me up Chris.” Your voice low and sultry, was all it took for Chris to release inside of you, his upper half now resting on top of you, his cock still inside of you.
The room was now filled with panting as you both came down from your peaks, almost whimpering when you felt Chris pull out of you, instantly missing the feeling.
“Fucking incredible,” Chris finished, still trying to catch his breath.
“As good as you imagined?” You asked with a smirk, now sitting up and hopping off the table to grab your clothes, your legs wobbling slightly.
“Better.” Grabbing your hips he pulled you back into him, your back against his still bare chest, leaving kisses on your shoulder.
You woke up to the sun streaming through the windows, the smell of coffee being brewed and your thighs aching as the memories of last night filtered through your mind. Standing from the bed you padded to the door, you could hear Chris humming along to the radio in the kitchen, grabbing the plaid shirt from the floor you threw it on, doing the buttons as you walked silently to the kitchen, trying not to startle him.
There he was, stood in nothing but a pair of grey sweats, his hair in disarray as he sang along to the lyrics of, I Lived by One Republic. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the sight, now leaning against the door frame with your arms folded across your chest.
“With every broken bone, I swear I lived- oh fuck!” He screamed when he’d turned around to find you standing there, almost spilling the coffee.
“Sorry!” You couldn’t stop your laughing, as you walked across the kitchen to him checking the hand that holding the coffee making sure he didn’t scold himself. “You’re good,” dipping to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Is that for me?” Nodding towards the perfectly prepped breakfast that sat on a tray behind him.
“Maybe.” Placing the cup down on the counter, “that depends, you plan on staying for breakfast? I made pancakes.” His lips finding yours in a quick peck, before moving to your jaw and littering kisses all the way down to your neck.
“Lucky for you, pancakes are my favourite.” Wrapping your arms around his middle, using the tip of your fingers to trace on his bare back which earned a small hum and kiss to your shoulder.
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Jamie Prompt: Nightmares during an overnight trip so one of the teammates or multiple hear and help him. OR they find old bruises/scars from his dad's abuse. Just want to see the effects of the abuse and the team seeing those effects/helping him.
Hahahaha angst my favourite.
Gonna be honest not sure I nailed this.
They just won a match against Nottingham Forest. It was a brutal match. City Ground was filled with jeers and cheers from both sides. Probably inspired by the horrific loss at Wembley. Richard nearly got taken out by one of the Nottingham players, Dani had received a dubious yellow, Sam was covered in more scrapes and bruises than should be possible, and Jamie had gone full prick without even waiting for a signal. It was a shit match. Roy grumbled the whole way back to the hotel how they were probably going to have to flee in the dead of night. Jamie just feels like shit. They should be happy. They won. Jamie thinks it’s because maybe some of the insults got a bit too personal. Maybe because at half time after one of the players had shoved Jamie and called him a pussy, the whole team had shot him looks of concern. Jamie had ignored the looks, the pounding of his heart and tried to listen to Ted. Maybe because it was just a shit match. The point is Jamie feels like shit.
“Movie night?” Ted asks, lightly, like he wouldn’t mind if they said no. There were nods, murmurs of agreement, because none of them wanted to go out really. They all cram into a big room and settle in for a movie. The choice is given to Ted, who always seems to nail the film choice. He puts on My Neighbour Totoro, probably because it’s all cute and shit. Jamie’s got to admit, it’s pretty hard to stay angry watching some fluffy thing be stupidly cuddly and friendly. It’s just a nice movie. He’s a bit apart from everyone else, half curled onto a pillow he nabbed from his room. He’s dead sleepy. If he closes his eyes just a little, it’ll be fine.
It fucking isn’t.
Jamie’s had nightmares for years. They’re pretty fucking consistent actually. His fears haven’t really changed from childhood. The same man appears. The same insults. Injuries. Pain and memories swirl into one.
Years of experience have ingrained it in his mind and body to not be loud. The vulnerability that comes with sleep keeps his mind in a state of stress. He’s never been a heavy sleeper. Too wary of footsteps in the night. If he wakes the sleeping horror in his house he knows he’s in for worse. Apparently though, he moves, a lot. And whimpers. It’s pathetic really. He’s an adult. He shouldn’t be fucking like this. He’s always in motion anyway, so it occurring in his sleep doesn’t seem like a big deal. The odd twitch is probably ignored. The violent twisting, whimpers, and arms raised in defence are not.
He’s not sure how long he’s out but there’s hands on his shoulders as he almost bolts upright. He nearly takes Isaac out. Jamie’s breathing heavily. He wrenches himself from Isaac’s grip, hands on him too much to bare.
“You alright bruv?” Isaac asks, almost gentle. Jamie just nods, not trusting his voice to come out strong.
“The fuck you are.” Roy growls. Jamie can’t help the way his body tenses. Can’t stop the way his eyes flit around in panic.
“Jamie.” Someone says hesitantly. It’s Sam, crouching down next to him. “Are you sure you are alright?” Jamie’s eyes slowly make their way to Sam.
“Yeah, fine mate.” Jamie manages, glad he sounds tired rather than scared. “Just tired yeah.” That’s enough for some of the team who drift away slightly. But Sam stays crouching next to him. Isaac barely moves from his spot almost directly above Jamie. Roy slumps in a chair slightly away, most likely because of his knee. Dani has a frown marring his face, Zoreaux appears to be debating the benefits of crowding Jamie with the others, Richard cocking his head at him almost thoughtfully. Jan is fixing Jamie with a look reminiscent of an x-ray, while Bumbercatch is chewing on his lip in apprehension. Colin is sitting right behind Jamie, face almost carefully blank.
“You were making strange noises.” Jan says bluntly. There’s lots of way Jamie could reply. He could crack a sex joke, ease the awful tension. Brush it off as not important. Instead he shrugs.
“So?” He asks. He’s not a fan of the looks exchanged between his teammates.
“You sounded like you were… having a nightmare.” Sam says cautiously. Jamie scoffs like that’s complete bullshit. Like he didn’t just have exactly that. It’s stupid to act like this. But that childhood fear of pissing someone off remains forever present.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Colin asks softly. Jamie hates it. They’re treating him like one wrong word will make him shatter. He’s not fucking soft.
“I’m fine.” He insists. He’s getting really tired of the looks.
“It’s okay to have nightmares man.” Bumbercatch interjects. “It’s not like embarrassing.” Fuck no it is. It’s shitty, embarrassing, frustrating, and probably many other words.
“Talking about these things usually helps.” Sam offers quietly.
“Don’t worry amigo, we won’t judge you.” Dani says, Jamie just wishes he’d smile. Dani not smiling feels like a sign of the apocalypse.
“We’re here bruv.” Isaac adds.
“Was it the dickbag?” Roy asks with a low growl. It doesn’t exactly narrow it down. The Nottingham fans? The Nottingham players? His dad? Jamie shrugs again.
“I’m just gonna go to bed yeah.” He tells them, twisting away slightly. He almost trips getting to his feet, Zoreaux reaches to steady him. He flinches, hating himself slightly. He grabs his pillow and tries to leave again. Roy stands up to block him.
“Was it James?” He asks, voice lowering. Like it’s just him and Jamie in the room. “Look Jamie if you need to talk about what that dick did to you-.”
“I don’t.” Jamie says quickly. “I don’t need to talk about him.” There’s a tension in the room that you could cut with a knife.
“We didn’t talk after Wembley.” Roy says, clearly remembering how Jamie had just shut everyone off when anyone asked. “Let us fucking help you.”
“Is your father always terrible to you?” Jan asks bluntly. Jamie’s eyes shoot daggers at him.
“None of your fucking business.” He snarls. Internally he cringes, thinking it sounds too much like James. Jan merely raises an eyebrow.
“Jamie if he hurt you when you were younger then maybe you should talk about it.” Sam offers. Like bringing up the past is going to make things better. Like talking ever fucking helps. Jamie wants to scream.
“So he beat the shit out of me when I was a kid. So he was a useless fucking parent. ” Jamie snaps, tears prickling at his eyes. The open looks of horror on some of his teammates faces makes him cringe. He can’t stop though, can’t just leave it as is. “He’s my fucking problem.”
“Fucking hell Jamie, he shouldn’t have done that.” Roy growls. Richard grumbles something in French that Zoreaux nods in agreement with. It’s sounds angry and Jamie’s pretty sure he hears the name James muttered.
“It doesn’t matter.” Jamie insists.
“Of course it matters.” Sam replies. “You matter.” He probably shouldn’t scoff but Jamie can’t help it.
“Jamie, do we need to talk?” Roy asks, voice low. Jamie drops his pillow and flings his arms up.
“Fuck sake can’t we just drop it yeah? My dads a dick. We all know that.” He snaps. If the conversation continues he knows he’s going to cry. He’s going to sob like a little kid, fucking embarrassing. Roy steps closer, making Jamie shrink back. He wants to disappear into the ground. There’s nervous eyes all around.
“Let us help you amigo.” Dani says. “We are a team yes?” He offers Jamie a small smile. Jamie wishes he was yelling. Or that someone was angry, mad. Any fucking negative emotion. He knows how to deal with those. Instead everyone insists on huddling round him, offering support, caring about him.
His dad isn’t here but he can hear him calling him soft.
“It’s not… I don’t…” Jamie struggles to find the words. The ones that won’t make him cry and get everyone to leave him alone. “I just want to go to bed.”
“No way bruv.” Isaac shakes his head. “Not until you talk to us.”
“It’ll just be quicker if you do.” Colin says with a shrug, his face soft as he looks at Jamie. Jamie shoves his hands into his hoodie and blinks hard. “Otherwise we’ll just hound you til you break and tell us anyway.” Jamie stares at his team, that are standing round him like they’re worried he’s going to break if they get too far away.
“We won’t judge you.” Zoreaux says. “We just want to help.” Jamie is weak. He’s weak to them caring, with sad eyes, horrid glances. He doesn’t deserve a team ready to catch him when he falls but he’s lucky. He takes a deep breath.
“I’ve had nightmares for years.” He mumbles. “Bout him. I don’t… I’m not gonna talk about what they’re like about.” The team is nodding in understanding. “I just get so scared. And it’s stupid. I fucking hate it. I hate it so much.” Jamie sniffles, Sam and Dani move closer, both offering comfort. Jamie moves slightly out of reach, dropping onto his pillow and pulling his legs to his chest. “I don’t wanna talk about him.” It’s said into his legs but he knows they hear him. He hears a horrible cracking sound as Roy sits next to him. An arm snakes it’s way around his shoulders, he can’t help but tense. He feels someone else sit on his other side.
“Puppy pile.” He hears Bumbercatch say and suddenly there’s nine grown men leaning on him as he’s pushed close to the floor. Jamie’s pretty sure Isaac is behind him playing pillow, Colin’s on his left shoulder. Sam is on his left leg and so is Dani. Bumbercatch is somehow across both legs. Roy is looming by his right shoulder. Zoreaux is half resting on Jamie, half on Roy. Richard has managed to curl up practically on Jamie’s stomach. Jan is somewhere around his knee.
“Fuck Richard, ease up a bit.” Jamie grumbles. “I can’t breathe.”
“No.” Richard says sweetly even as he adjusts a bit so that Jamie’s lungs can actually work.
“Bro you have really bony ankles.” Bumbercatch says.
“Fuck off.” Jamie mumbles. He twists slightly, leaning into the collar of Roy’s jacket. He feels safe in the pile of people. Jan complains that he is too much person to be forced into such a cramped position. Colin cracks a joke about being too much person to handle. They’re giggling a little, letting Jamie feel at ease.
The nightmares stay away for once.
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My Favorite (Part 3)
Summary: The group decides to take a real vacation, at Y/N's insistence. Dean recommends Vegas Week.
Characters: Dean x Female!Reader, Sam x OC!Gemma
Warnings: Fluff, Crack, Language, Vegas Week
A/N: It's hilarious (I think so) and gross (the fluff is real). What could possibly go wrong on Vegas Week?
Gemma paced the halls of the Bunker. In her impatience of waiting for Y/N to stop being hungover and get the fuck up, she'd walked the halls doing inane activities to occupy her mind. She also wasted at least thirty minutes trying to find where Sam was hiding in this colossal ass maze.
There Sam was, hunched over some old text. She smirked, quietly sidling into the room and scanning the shelves. She picked one out, then draped herself on a nearby armchair, all nonchalantly, of course.
"So smooth," Dean chuckled. She hadn't seen him sitting in the corner of the Library, nursing a beer. "Subtlety was never one of your better skills."
Gemma fired her most vigorous bitch face at him, snapping her book closed dramatically before jumping to her feet and strolling over to Dean's table. Her head tilted as she approached, looking at the bottle of beer beside him.
"Huh…staying off the whiskey, are we?" she smiled at him sweetly, leaning her arm on the table. "Probably wise."
Dean sucked his teeth, glaring at her, "Touche."
"Will you two knock it off?" Sam chuckled. "Geez, like children," he muttered.
Gemma turned back over her shoulder and pouted at Sam. "Well, he started it…."
"Nuh-uh," Dean countered with a laugh.
"Yah ha!" Gemma argued with a knowing smirk.
Sam slammed his book closed, turning his chair to face the both of them. "Seriously?" he frowned at the pair.
Gemma bit her lip, holding back a laugh as she stood up straight and tried to look angelic. "Sorry," she smirked.
Sam smirked back. "C'mere," he said softly.
Her eyes widened slightly, her body automatically moving to him, but she was suddenly very aware of Dean in the room. Reaching Sam's side, her cheeks were hot, and she leaned on one hip and tried to play it cool.
His smirk turned to a mischievous grin as she came to his side. In a flash, he grabbed her, sitting her across his lap and wrapping his arms around her.
"You, Miss, are snarky when you don't have a hunt."
She squeaked slightly, cheeks really burning now as she saw Dean shuffle in curiosity out of the corner of her eye.
"I…uh…heh…" she stuttered pathetically before suddenly frowning. "Hey, I'm not snarky!"
"You are," the brothers said in unison.
"So… y'all out in the open now?" Dean teased with a broad grin. "So cuuuute."
Gemma folded her arms petulantly, feeling pretty ganged up on.
"Silence, Whiskey Dick," she pouted.
"I see Gemma didn't waste an opportunity to reem you," Y/N said, shuffling sleepily into the Library with a cup of coffee. She paused, raising a curious brow at the others, before taking a seat at the table. "I swear, I need to stop trying to drink your ass under the table, Winchester. Never ends well for me," she added with a chuckle, taking a long gulp of coffee.
"Someone needs to teach all you lot how to drink," Gemma scoffed, not moving from Sam's lap as nobody even seemed phased by it.
"If I remember correctly," Dean began. "Y/N and I both out drink you two every time."
"Not…every time…" Gemma frowned, scratching her head and trying to remember a night where they hadn't. "B-but it doesn't change the fact that Sam always dies off first," she turned to him and teased.
"That's cause Sam can't hold his liquor for shit," Dean laughed, coming to join the others at the table, lowering himself into the chair next to Y/N.
"Now, Dean," Y/N playfully scolded. "Don't pick on the lovebirds," she grinned wolfishly at Gemma.
Gemma narrowed her eyes at Y/N and smirked devilishly. "Please, we all know Dean is your favorite."
"Of course he is," Y/N countered. "I mean, look what I have to work with," she added, gesturing to her and Sam and laughing.
"Hey, what!?" Gemma shrieked, jumping to her feet and holding her heart dramatically. "Y/N, I am your wife!"
"Mmhmm," Y/N responded, giggling at Gemma's antics. "And yet here you are, sitting on Sam's lap. Bad Wifey!" she turned to Dean. "Can you believe that? I mean…right in front of me!"
Gemma's eyes were cartoonishly wide as she stood speechless. She stomped her foot and squealed.
"Alright, alright," Y/N relented, finishing off her coffee. "So," she began, looking at the book on the table. "Are we looking into a case?" she frowned.
"I was just coming in here trying to look cool and cultured," Gemma shrugged, pulling the book towards herself and scanning the page. Some kind of lore about an ancient race of Lycans that had been extinct for centuries. "Sam," she raised an eyebrow at him, "Were you reading this for fun?"
Sam blushed slightly, ducking his head. "I like to stay sharp," he shrugged.
"Oh my God," Y/N exclaimed, eyes wide as she looked between each of them. "We have no clue how to 'take a break,' do we?"
"Duuude," Gemma mumbled, leaning closer to the book as something in the passage caught her attention and her eyes sparkled with intrigue. "These things sound freaky as shit," she giggled before looking back up at everyone. "I mean, most people would read Harry Potter or something," she shrugged, pulling the book entirely in front of her as she continued to read.
As Gemma leaned back in her chair, perusing the book, Sam scooted closer to her, mumbling about things he had found, and turned the pages to explain it to her. The two of them quickly became lost in the lore.
Y/N turned to Dean with a groan. "Please tell me you at least know how to be a non-Hunter for this supposed break of ours?"
Dean shrugged sheepishly. "If I'm not hunting or at a bar, it's generally just Netflix and more beer."
"No!" Y/N exclaimed, jumping from her seat and practically laying across the table to snatch the book from Gemma's hands, tossing it aside. "No way. We said we were taking a break. Dean and I scored five hundred bucks last night. Let's take a road trip or…ooh! There's a Six Flags theme park not that far off in Texas," she said, looking at all of them. "Come on, guys!"
"I've never been to Six Flags…." Gemma tilted her head and thought aloud, "Should we check to see if there are any cases in the area first? Or just take weapons in case?"
"I'm sure we could find something," Sam mumbled, opening his laptop.
Y/N's jaw dropped, watching as Sam and Gemma huddled together to review the search results.
"Okay, nope," Y/N said, marching from the Library. "If I'm taking a break, I'm taking a goddamned break," she muttered to herself.
Planning out in her mind the need to pack a bag - their car was still in the garage - there were plenty of things they'd passed while on the road that she could go out and see.
Gemma raised an eyebrow and looked puzzled. "Did I do something wrong? Just making sure we don't get jumped by something…" she looked at Dean accusingly. "You should go after her. It must be your fault."
A quick few minutes later, Y/N reemerged, bag packed, and flung over her shoulder, twirling her keys in her hand.
"Y'all have fun with your not-break and hunting or whatever. I'm going on a road trip." Y/N announced, heading for the garage.
"Y/N!" Gemma squeaked, scurrying after her partner in crime as the boys closely followed. "Okay, okay, okay, no hunting. I promise, we'll all go…do something."
Y/N stopped, turning around to face the three of them with a suspicious eye. "No hunting?" she raised a brow, looking at each of them.
"Not even a lore book," Gemma said quickly with a sweet smile before elbowing Sam. "Right?"
"Not even books?" Sam grumbled quietly to Gemma before wincing from the second elbow to the gut. "Fine!"
He figured he could hide a few in the bottom of his bag.
"We all clearly need the break," Dean chuckled, holding his arms out to the group with a smirk. "Maybe a Vegas week?"
Sam's eyes lit up at the mention of Vegas Week. He always grumbled to Dean about it, but he secretly loved the annual mecca. He'd just never give Dean the satisfaction of knowing it.
"You're inviting us to Vegas Week?" Y/N said skeptically. "I thought that was a 'brothers only' gig?"
"The infamous Vegas Week," Gemma announced like it was a TV show. "Damn… I've never been either. Consider me down for this!"
"Then it's settled," Dean said with a grin. "Vegas Week."
The four of them had piled into Baby - at Dean's insistence. The drive to Vegas took two days, but the ride itself was actually fun, the four of them always falling into an easy stride. In the back of his mind, Dean secretly hoped it could always be like this and made a note to breach the possible topic with Sam at some point.
When they pulled into town, Dean chose one of the more excellent hotels on the strip, being sure to remind everyone to thank Mr. Harold Johnston for the digs. When Dean returned to the others after checking in, he had a wide and mischievous grin on his face as he passed a key to Sam.
"It's a King Suite," he smirked, biting his tongue and wiggling his brows. "You two have fun."
Without a reply, Sam accepted the key with a playful glare at Dean before wrapping his arm around Gemma's shoulders and guiding her towards the elevator. Sam didn't mind. He smirked to himself as he thought over his own plans for the night.
Y/N watched the other couple head toward the elevators, a slight smirk tugging her lips. She turned to address Dean.
"Subtle," she teased, snatching the other key card from his hands. "So I guess that means we're rooming together then?" she winked, looking at the room number and heading for the elevators herself.
"Well, I can shout them back and change it if it's a problem?" Dean smirked, really hoping she was not about to agree to that.
"What if I wanted to room with Sam?" she teased as the elevator doors closed behind them.
She fought hard to stifle a giggle at his 'growly' face. Before he could respond, the doors opened, and Y/N dashed from the elevator to find their room, feeling a tension grow between them once more - the good kind.
"You think Gemma would let you?" Dean joked, taking off after Y/N as they reached the door.
He unlocked it, side-eyeing Y/N briefly and the smile on her face. He was gonna be with her for an entire week. It made the hairs stand on his neck in excitement.
Opening the door, Dean was speechless. He'd ensured he and Y/N got the deluxe King Suite. The bed was king-sized. The kitchen area was so huge it had a freaking dining table. Dean was ninety-nine percent sure he could see a jacuzzi on the extra-large balcony.
Y/N's eyes lit up, looking around the luxurious room. She'd only ever seen rooms like this in the movies. Her eyes quickly caught sight of the massive bed, and a huge grin spread across her face. She flashed Dean a mischievous grin before getting a running start and jumping onto the bed, starfishing out and letting out a blissful sigh.
"Always wanted to do that."
"I wouldn't recommend trying it with crappy motel beds," Dean grinned at her. "I've seen dust and God knows what flying out of them after a dive."
Y/N snorted, leaning on her elbows as she smiled at him. "So where you sleeping?" she laughed.
Dean frowned slightly, unsure whether the question was a joke or not. His brain was running too far ahead; he was so wrapped up in the idea of them being together he forgot the basics.
Earn the bed rights, Jackass.
He raised an eyebrow, moving to the bedside and quickly grabbing one of the too many pillows. He tossed it at Y/N with a childish smirk.
"Pillow fight, loser gets the couch?" he laughed.
She stood from the bed, leaving the pillow on the mattress, and she seductively sauntered over to him, stopping just in front of him.
"Well, you did pay for everything, so I suppose it's only fair for me to share," she crooned, looking up at him with not-so-innocent eyes.
Dean felt a flurry in his belly, just at her looking at him like that. It sparked more flashes of what happened in the motel - before it all went to shit, of course - and damn if part of him wanted to just take her right there and then.
He swallowed it down painfully. No, we're doing it right this time.
"I'm happy with sharing," he said softly.
"Please," she laughed, rolling her eyes as she stepped away. "Don't act like you didn't plan this," she teased. "Come on, I'm hungry. Buffet!" she cheered, skipping to the door.
"Y'know," he shook his head with a laugh. "It's almost like you've known me for years and can see right through me. Oh, wait…" he grinned, following Y/N from the room.
He wondered if they had pie on this buffet.
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the art of second place
chapter 7: tendril loving care
Elder God!Boba Fett x f!Reader (18+)
“No one’s died from having your child, so I’m. Can we try? Right now?”
His head bobbed up and down, and he didn’t let the table in his way stop him from climbing over to pull your face to his in a kiss.
Summary: You’re a sacrifice to the god who created the world and all its pieces, but what’s at the end of your fate isn’t what you quite expect.
Word Count: ~6.7k
Content warnings (overall): Tentacle sex, size kink, breeding kink, alien/strange genitalia, preganananancy, fatal religious sacrifices.
Chapter warnings: earning the breeding kink tag, earning the pregnancy tag, earning the alien genitalia tag, swearing, fucking, cum inflation, poetry
Crossposted to AO3. | AO2P Masterlist
Chapter 1 | <- Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 ->
You needed more time to process it. You compartmentalized like a professional, and quietly requested some space to absorb this. He looked almost saddened, that you didn’t react with either absolute disgust or absolute eagerness. You were as new to him as he was to you, you had to remind yourself. He never had a Magna in the Pocket, only subservient sacrificial Summas who were more grateful to be alive than curious about what kind of life they now had.
Nothing you looked through in the study seemed remotely helpful for this situation. There was no book of poetry, no ancient text, that could tell you what you should do next, save perhaps a few out-of-context lines from a book on alternative religion you suspected Boba kept around for personal amusement.
It is both Named and Nameless
As Nameless, it is the origin of all things
As Named, it is the mother of all things
Motherhood was the reason you were even down here. Abelina back up in the village, with all of her clever tricks and near-sighted scheming. You genuinely hoped she was doing alright, despite whatever bitterness you felt over those final ten days on the surface. Were you ready to make that kind of step? Did you want to follow in the footsteps of all the thousands of other women who’d stepped off the jumping block? Was it wise?
You caught glimpses of him, though this time it was you seeking solitude. You held your tongue before any nightly prayers, considering what to even say and finding you had nothing but questions. Prayers weren’t for finding answers, though, and your curiosity manifested in observation, the two of you quietly orbiting one another throughout the Pocket. You could feel him through the walls, in the walls, the whisper of his breath across your cheek though he never touched you. Three days, this went on. You’d worked out certain logical elements, accepting his truth as gospel, ironically, though you had your other questions as well.
The ambush happened at breakfast, as all your favorite moments were. Jittery after a long night of little sleep, you sat at the bench with your hands folded before you on the table. He turned to face you after finishing up at the stove. “Is this your interrogation, little cat?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning comfortably on the counter.
“Nothing so aggressive. You’ve been forthcoming with whatever I ask, but I’m starting to see that there’s a lot I need to learn about asking questions.” He nods, but sighs.
“I could have told you everything, but you wouldn’t have believed me.”
“That time is in the past, Boba,” you said, not unkindly. “If there’s something you think I should know, just tell me.”
“There’s a whole lot of somethings,” he said warily.
“I do have specific questions, first.” The quirk of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and he bowed his head, signaling to you to start. “I know Meija was a large part of it, but why else did the Blessings stop?”
He takes a breath, considering. “The last thousand years have shown a marked change in Temple teachings, values. The Sacrifices were all incredibly naive, and innocent. Some even shook so hard they fainted upon hearing me speak. It made me uncomfortable to try and coax them into motherhood, or at least what qualifies as motherhood down here.” You nodded.
“When was the last?”
“I’ll answer your question, but first you should understand that my children aren’t always seen or appreciated by humankind. There are the visible ones, the three moons Meija and I made, trees and rivers and mountains from the adventurous, stars and storms and winds from the short-tempered, serpents and beasts and companions from the kind-hearted. Many of these things, humans have studied, categorized, the like. But there are others, smaller ones, unseen little miracles that are my children all the same.” He must have long ago reconciled that the mothers didn’t want much of any ownership over what they’d helped in creating, by the possessive note in his words. “There are elements and minerals too deep in the ground to be studied, there were important parts of the ecosystem which went extinct thousands of years ago, the only things remaining are their bones.
“I learned over the centuries, certain things about the process. How much they wanted to be here, be a mother for me, affected the outcome of their children, but the process affected them as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most mothers had stars, the ones that were uncertain about their commitment. They’re flung to the far reaches of the universe, smaller than a speck of sand to anyone on earth. Meija stayed longer than anyone, and she gave me three moons. I have so much poetry about our children, it. I was. She. I suppose she was always a bit out of reach of me, in the end.”
“Is... is there an emotional connection, between you and your children?” you asked carefully.
“Yes,” he said emphatically. “Seeing, being there for each birth. It was... It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
Your heart had started to race, leaping into your throat and wanting to take the reins of your tongue, wanting to ask for something you didn’t know the extent of just yet. You bit your tongue and nodded. “So there have been some, after. Blessings we don’t see.”
“There were a few. But overall, those mothers were few and far between. The last few scores of sacrifices dropped in my living room hadn’t even had sex, or pleasure. I couldn’t make that choice for them.”
It astounded you, to hear a god acknowledge the severe power imbalance in these relationships. While part of it still slightly reeked of dubious ethics, you supposed this was a ‘greater good’ type of deal. And if the changes that affected the mothers only happened in the boundaries of the Pocket, all that was done to them would have been undone when he’d sent them back up to the surface, like Meija wanted.
It also saddened you, to hear his willful acceptance of his eternal solitude. You wanted nothing more than to go to him, but the hard wood table between you two reminded you of your goal.
“Why not tell the Temple, then? To find willing earth-mothers, instead of clueless Sacrifices?”
He gave a laugh, and turned to the stove to plate up your breakfast. “Bureaucracy seems to have more power than I do, these days. From what I understand, as things were turning to a more conservative approach in the Temple, they took their power through control of information and knowledge, not through knowledge-seeking itself. That kind of cloak-and-dagger manipulation is difficult to undo, in such a powerful institution. It would take... a lot more than I am capable of, to change them.”
You saw the fire in his eyes, the distaste at the injustice on the surface. Boba was a person who craved the opportunity to repair things, you reminded yourself, and for his hands to be tied so must have been a long-simmering point of frustration. You changed the subject, after giving a hum of agreement.
“So the typical mother, not that I’m trying to generalize any of them,” you added quickly, “Would come down here, get the schpiel, have a child with you, and then take the out instead of spending eternity with you?”
“Pregnancy isn’t exactly comfortable, princess,” he said, rolling his eyes and handing you a plate of eggs and toast. You saved the toast for later, knowing it would have had at least some latent orgasmic nonsense in it. “They considered it a duty, a lot of the times. I feel—” He cut himself off abruptly, a stony expression crossing his brow.
“What is it?” you asked gently, reaching out to take his hand. “You can tell me.”
“I feel indebted to each and every one of them. They walk through the spirit dimension with no regrets because—” his voice cracked then, and your heart felt the same way. “The only time I know I was ever happy was when I was crafting the world with another.”
Your heart fell, and you stood, abandoning your breakfast to come closer to him. “Boba...” you said, but you were unsure of what you could possibly say to begin to comfort him in his immense grief. Instead, you did the one thing you knew you could: you were there for him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and pulled him close. He felt stiff for a moment, before realizing you were embracing him, holding him because you wanted to. His arms came up to wrap around you, and you found yourself pulled into his lap with a little squeal. His tentacles kept you supported, but you didn’t let go once.
“Do you have any other questions?” he asked after a while, his voice sounding a little ragged.
“No, not right now,” you said, a quick and merciful lie. “Why don’t you ask me some questions instead, while we eat?” you suggested, kissing his cheek and forehead, anywhere you could until he smiled.
“Thank you,” he whispered against your skin before you stood. You knew it meant more than he could say, so you said nothing. “You mentioned you were at the Temple since you were a girl? Do you remember it?”
“I was orphaned. I don’t remember too many things about my parents, only that they seemed to frown over a great many things. They certainly raised a stoic little six-year-old by the time they died.” He didn’t try to placate you with soft condolences. Death was part of life, he would know.
“You couldn’t have always been so by-the-book. You must have rebelled against the priestesses at some point.” He smiled and took a bite of breakfast.
You narrowed your eyes. “For a while, I was,” you admitted, drinking your tea sassily. “But that changed when I made Magna.” They start ranking the classes in the tenth year, and you’d been Magna (or briefly, Summa) for most of the decade after. “My counselors were so upset with me, I could never choose a focus.”
“That just means you’re a jack of all trades.”
“Oh, I mastered quite a few. I took to the physical sciences rather well, but I was pulled by social sciences, by arts, a fair few times. The issue with the class structure at the Temple, of the great very many issues at the Temple, was that you needed to stick with a focus for good in order to be taught it. I kept jumping around, but I made up for my gaps in knowledge in the library.”
“Art?” Boba asked, and you grinned. Of course he would have caught that bit.
“I love consuming art. I never make it myself. I’m a bit like the sarlacc in that way, always eating.”
“She’d be very pleased to hear your comparison, little cat,” he grinned.
You spoke back and forth for a while longer. You realized you were having so much fun because you were learning new things, even though you were just making conversation.
“I can fix the instruments, but I don’t know how to play them.”
“If you find some cotton, I’m sure we can teach ourselves how.”
It was like any other conversation with a new friend you’d ever had, though neither of you had met a single person that was like the other.
“Do you make art of your own?”
“I can sketch, and I can restore most damage I come across when need be. I haven’t really felt the need to paint my own canvas. I’m more interested in what others make.”
“Did you feel that way with Earth One?”
Boba had a quick wit, and the sharpest humor you’d ever encountered. For someone who hadn’t done much but float through the halls of the Pocket and sleep for the last thousand years, you were pleasantly surprised with how quickly he took to banter with you.
“What did you do with the mothers before Meija?”
“The world was younger, then. I could trust them to keep things secret, and I checked up on them whenever I had the energy.”
“They’re lucky. There are far too many absent fathers in the world, it would be a shame if the father of the world were one as well.”
“Sure I’m not a shame anyway?” he asked, clearly joking, but you could see the thread of fear, of uncertainty, of insecurity, behind his eyes.
“I’ve never been more sure of that.”
Time, it seemed did funny things while in the Pocket. You were certain that while there was some sort of stasis to the whole place, there was enough evidence to convince you that time did, in fact, pass down here. The plants in the orchard grew. The days cycled on the usual night-and-day you were always used to. The stars moved in the observatory, and the phases of the moons changed.
And you were going to have your period.
Your breasts ached when you woke one morning, too heavy by far, and sensitive even against the soft linen of your shift. You just wanted to roll back into bed and go back to sleep, morose already. Though, the familiar symptoms preceding your cycle made you sit upright in bed once more.
You counted back the days, remembering that your last period had ended just before the Rites. Twenty-five days.
“Oh fuck,” you said out loud.
When your feet carried you, half-dressed, into the kitchen for breakfast, it took Boba a moment to catch your attention. You were staring back out at the orchard, where the strawberries had started flowering in one quadrant. “What?” you asked, still far-away.
He tilted his head at you curiously. You’d always been sharp-minded, attentive around him, except when he’d had one of his cocks inside of you, of course.
Okay, where did that come from.
Boba’s eyebrows shot up, and an amused smile fell over his lips. “You’re fertile.”
Your face heated instantly. “Don’t-don’t say it like that!” You exclaimed. “How the hell do you know!?”
“I know.” His tone held mystery and no small amount of smugness, for which you were not amused. “I can conjure something for you if you want to take care of it, or...”
The memory of your conversation a few days prior sat in the room, unspoken but—okay, it was spoken fairly quickly.
“Could always get you pregnant.”
“I could always have a baby.”
You’d spoken at the same time as him, and you both tried to hide the surprised smile. Boba took the pan off the stove and came to sit with you. This was a sitting conversation.
“So you want to?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral, his emotions out of it. You remembered the pain in his voice from before, though. The only time I know I was ever happy was when I was crafting the world with another.
“I’ve got a few questions—”
“The whole process takes about a month, on average. The cycle between moons, I think. It was easier to tell when there were actual moons to count by. Sometimes we could tell what she was going to have. The symptoms line up a little bit but for the most part it’s a guessing game until the child is out, and if you’re having a mountain, it’s not like you’ll actually need to accompany a—”
“—whole mountain range inside you, though the mountain-mothers did step with a heavier tread some days, and—”
“I can get you any food for any craving, the fauna-mothers gave me a run for my money some days, though—”
“Typically flora grow taller and like spending more time, even camping, in the orchard, and—”
“Boba Fett, hear me speak!”
He shut up, a little astounded.
“I do have questions, of which I know you will answer very well. But we have plenty of time to talk about that after you knock me up. Otherwise we’ll be here until my next cycle starts.”
His lips formed a little ‘o’ when he realized you were right, and your logic sound.
“No one’s died from having your child, so I’m. Can we try? Right now?”
His head bobbed up and down, and he didn’t let the table in his way stop him from climbing over to pull your face to his in a kiss.
His mouth plundered like the warlords in his history books. His tongue seared poetry into your mouth like a sculptor’s chisel, and you felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. A wanton moan left your lips at the ferocity in his passion, followed by a yelp as he pushed you out of your seat and onto the floor. The pain of the tiles beneath didn’t come; you were surrounded by his tentacles as if you’d simply leaned back into them. Boba didn’t once stop kissing you as he lowered you to the floor, pushed your skirts up over your hips to leave you exposed. Even in the warm air of the kitchen, the burning oven just a few meters away, you shivered in anticipation for what was coming next.
You hoped it was you.
His hands pushed your legs apart, but his tentacles kept them open, securely tying your body open for him. The easy show of his strength, the grace he controlled his movements with, made your breath catch in your throat, and your heart pound. Lightheaded, you could only make a confused noise when he pulled back from you, kissing down your body. It was then that you realized some of the other, defter tentacles had unlaced your bodice and skirt, tossing them away from your body with more ease than it took to pull them on. When your naked body was bare before him, he loomed above you, haloed by the low lanternlight above you.
The ceilings in the Pocket were difficult to look at. When Boba had created the Pocket, there weren’t yet places with roofs or ceilings yet made by man. As Boba didn’t spend too much time on the surface in the creations of man, his subconscious was left to fill in the blanks all around his inter-dimensional domain. As such, the ceilings were more theoretical than anything, the way looking directly at the smallest light in the darkness would make it disappear.
But looking up at him like this, you could tell that his subconscious was having a difficult time maintaining all the constructs of the Pocket around you. The ceiling fell apart into a pure black void, dotted with stars in the form of the kitchen lanterns. Their light, portals all, flickered and twinkled in the same way as his celestial children. As the light left the top of the room, it seemed to collect around his head in a perfect circle, rays of light spreading like outstretched arms where his scars marred the shape of hi head.
He was glorious, resplendent, and looked like more of a god than you’d ever seen him before. It left you breathless and in awe, like you could never look away and remain happy the rest of your life. It made your heart surge, and with a great feat of strength, you sat up to touch him, to kiss him, to show him the ferocity of your passion and love. It pulled a moan from Boba, and you were instantly drunk on the power that gave you; Boba may have made the world and all its wonders, but you could make him moan with just a kiss.
Had he knees, you would have brought him to them.
Your kisses lessened in their frenetic pace, slowing to a rhythmic sort of passion, the rhythm of a fire. You undressed him by hand, fumbling in places, but you refused to ask for his help, to whine for his form. He’d undressed, undone you. You wanted to do the same to him. Trappings fallen to the floor, you witnessed him up close.
In the bath several weeks ago, you’d only caught a glimpse of his naked form when he’d slipped in beside you. Now, neither of you had nowhere to hide, nothing to hide. His scars ran deep, in thick, raised gouges like the raised points of a globe of the world, denoting mountains the way his body denoted pain and past. There was no consistency to the shape. They could have been burns, could have been cuts or slashes, could have been pieces ripped from him, but you couldn’t tell. You supposed, fingers brushing over a puckered pink line over his heart, that celestial wounds took longer to heal, and bore no semblance to the kind you found on the surface.
He watched you observe him, inspect him, explore him. He guarded his expression well, but you knew him enough by now that he was most likely simmering with anxiety. You leaned in, locking eyes with him for just a moment, before laying a kiss over that scar on his heart. You prayed a little, for his healing, and for his comfort.
Boba whined, and you remembered that he could hear your prayers plain as day. His hands shook and his whole body seemed to tense, then melt at the soft wish you’d made. “Princess,” he breathed. “You know I can’t fulfill that prayer.” He sounded so resigned, but with a tinge of genuine frustration, that he couldn’t make your wishes come true, not even for his own betterment.
“Prayers aren’t always for getting the things you want,” you whispered back, holding his face in your hands. “They’re for reminding us of our heart’s direction.”
Something soft and unreadable filled Boba’s eyes, something shimmering gold in the dark brown depths of them. Like stars, you thought for a single moment before he kissed you again.
And like the first, like the second, the third was different from all the others. With how precisely he moved, it was like he was speaking spells against your lips, declarations and confessions only understandable in this language, the one that needs four lips to speak.
“You want me to get you pregnant?” he murmured at long last, breaking the hazy silence. You blinked, righting yourself again, before nodding.
“I want to bear your child, Boba,” you whispered. “Please.”
He cupped the back of your neck in his huge hands and kissed you again, before nodding and laying you down again, on the soft bed of his tentacles. He kissed down your body, starting from your shoulders, to your naked breasts, to your tummy, over which he placed a few longer kisses, near-silent whispers, to your womb. Your face flushed hard in embarrassment for how wet the gesture made you, arousal slicking your thighs and the tentacles supporting your lower half.
Boba didn’t miss a thing; he kept your legs held wide, every part of him wrapping around every part of you, but he didn’t press in with one of the red tendrils as you’d expected. No, instead he pressed his mouth to you, a hot tongue scrambling your every thought in a hurricane of feeling. Your astonished shout didn’t alarm him whatsoever. Boba knew pleasure, he knew his way around a dripping cunt better than probably anybody else in history. While that should have worried you, should have made you doubt your own ability to please him, his satisfied groan at the taste of you dashed those thoughts as well.
He ate you like it was you who was getting him drunk, the tables flipped from the first time he’d fed you. His eyes were closed - no, hooded, like he was drowsy or enchanted by your pussy alone. You gave him another deep moan, legs shaking as he did something with his tongue that made your blood sing. It was like every heartbeat of yours pushed you a mile closer to the edge. By simply breathing, you would come harder than you ever thought possible. Boba’s hands, his tentacles, they were all experts at your body from the word go, but his tongue seemed to convey that sense of neediness, of mutual pleasure, that sent you over the edge that much faster.
When he felt your walls flutter and clamp down on him, he withdrew his tongue from you, fucking you with his slick fingers, with another tentacle which had come to play. You gushed around them, mindlessly babbling and near tears with pleasure. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice wrecked and low. “That’s it, good girl, c’mon princess, let go for me.”
When his touch became just a bit much, just on the wrong side of overstimulating, you didn’t even need to tell him to convey it. He pulled his hand and mouth back, leaving just the tentacle inside you, pulsing and long. It wasn’t as thick as the others he had used on you before, but you suspected he was working you up to something bigger than you’d ever taken. His tentacles moved your hair out of your face, sweat-drenched and messy from your thrashing. You croaked out his name - you must have been screaming his name. He chuckled, voice still dangerously sexy.
“Alright there, little cat? You’ve gone quiet again.”
You wanted to bite back at his little barb, but you were so well-fucked you couldn’t summon the effort. You simply melted against him, and suddenly you were moving.
He left your clothes in the kitchen, strewn about as if you’d simply disappeared from them between one second and the next. The ceiling put itself back into place, and you smiled as he carried you across the courtyard to the bedroom. He wisely avoided the winter quarter of the orchard, keeping you warm and comfortable so you could ease into what he had planned next.
When he set you on the bed, he laid next to you, like two lovers would. It seemed so... normal, amidst all the fathoms of the unnatural here in the Pocket. You smiled at him, easy and bright as you never had quite gotten the hang of on the surface. Boba seemed to almost glow with happiness, kissing you slowly again and wrapping his body around you once more. “Are you sure about this?” he asked again, and you gave a dazed nod, realizing his mouth still shone with your slick, with your cum.
“Want it. Want you.” Your heart took the reins of your mouth, and you shivered at the truth of the words. He was so close you could hear his breath catch. You were more than eager to hear that noise again, so you continued. “Want you to fuck me full, breed me.”
His answering moan confirmed your suspicions, that he was just as eager for this as you thought, not only for the happiness he spoke of, but for the thrill of this incredible moment of creation, of life once more. He pressed his face into your neck and nodded, acknowledging your wants, your pleas. “I’ll do that, princess, just for you.”
Those three words, just for you, made your heart sour with meaning, and you didn’t mind a bit that they weren’t another three promised by all the poets. You knew they came in many forms, and from a god, in extremely mysterious ways than any soul on the surface could.
You gasped when he held you open for him again, and you didn’t need to look down, didn’t need to look anywhere but him, as he filled you up, the slow, never-ending press of one of those thick tendrils inside of you making you shudder, but you still did not look away. He watched you with the same intensity, like he was waiting for you to rescind your consent at any moment. You wanted to scrub away that fear from him, wanted him to know that you were his as much as... as...
As much as he’d let you be. That was a safer fact to rest upon.
When he split you apart this time, it was with several of those red tendrils at once, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. Like before, he didn’t so much as rail into you as he did pulse, writhe within you. It seemed like it went against your baser nature, your thoughts on procreation more associated with feral rutting against one another. But this was nowhere near natural, you reminded yourself. This was how the god of all life and creation on your planet fucked.
He did not leave you wanting, for a single moment. He kept you full, as promised, and that second promise on the heels of the first made you feel like he’d already bred you. When some beautiful ridge of him rubbed against the front of your walls, on a spongier spot he’d worked with his tongue and fingers before, you squealed, legs going rigid at the sudden feeling. He gave a deep laugh at your reaction, and your wide eyes met his again. In the cool purple light of the bedroom, those brown eyes looked black with lust and desire, deep and dark enough to fall into.
You pulled him down for another kiss, whining your pleasure into his mouth as the three tentacles inside you worked in unison. One kept scraping deliciously against that world-shattering spot inside you, another pressed as deep as it could, and another moved in the facsimile of a cock, most likely for your own pleasure. If you’d been able to speak, you would have told him off for not fucking you how he wanted, but as it was, you could only gape at him like a fish out of water.
“That’s right,” he purred again, breath hot against your lips. “You take it. You take all of me, like a good girl, and I’ll give you what you want. You wanna carry something of me inside you so badly, don’t you. You want it so bad you’re nearly crying for it.” To prove his point, he leaned down and kissed away the tears sliding down the side of your face, not from pain or sadness, but overwhelming pleasure. When he kissed you again, you could taste the salt of them, and the tangier taste of your own cunt. You supposed fair was fair, you’d gotten just as drunk off of him as he was on you. It made your pride surge, in some part of your mind that could still process all of this.
“I’ll know when it takes, princess. And I’ve got enough in me to make sure you don’t leave this bed until it does.” His voice had dropped to a near growl, like stones passing over one another just before a rockfall. You keened, arching up into him and off the bed, and Boba dropped his forehead to you. “You ready?” he asked, and behind the passion and fire in his eyes, you could see the genuine question, the warning: last chance.
“Please,” you sobbed, the first word you’d said since asking him to breed you. He nodded, a subtle movement against you as he tore your synapses apart with pleasure. The graceful motion of his tentacles inside of you twitched once, twice, and then shivered all over, all at once, as they jockeyed for position against the tight muscle of your cervix. He shouted in pleasure as he came, and you could only look down at yourself, watching your body inflate with his seed. You nearly saw spots dance in your eyes, inverted stars, as he finished, leaving your belly slightly distended. If you weren’t bred from that, you weren’t sure how much else would fit in you.
He stayed inside of you, bearing down onto his forearms to cage you in, as if you’d ever leave. He kissed your lips lazily, the heft of him pressing against your body and making you moan, more thick gushes of his cum flooding your body. “Perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”
When your heart slowed, he still hadn’t pulled out of you, keeping his seed plugged up. “Boba,” you whispered, part of your voice returning to you. He looked up, cheeks still flushed and expression still open and sated.
“Yes?” he asked, just as quiet.
“Thank you,” you said, and for what exactly, you weren’t quite sure, but you knew that this feeling of safety, this pleasure and affection you received, made you feel better than you ever had in your life. You felt... well it was silly, but you felt closer to your god here and now than you ever did at the Temple, and you were pretty sure none of the priestesses in black ever felt this close, not ever. He rested his head against you, like you were something more than just a human to him, like you were more than a means for more children, and you realized he’d never made you feel that way, even at his angriest.
“Stole the words from my mouth,” he said, chuckling. His eyes were closed, and you felt... radiant. It was a feeling you’d get used to.
When he finally pulled out, a thick, hot gush of his cum left with him, and you canted your hips up in a vain effort to try and keep it all in. He didn’t laugh at you, he just helped your hips with a pillow tugged from the side. He didn’t seem to mind the mess, so you didn’t either. Things were silent again between you, both of you looking down at your slick, swollen lips. “What now?” you asked, a little apprehensive about the next steps.
“We wait a little, and see if it took.”
You frowned. Even up on the surface, it took months before a pregnancy would show, and at least several weeks before any of the tests would indicate pregnancy or not. “How long does that take?”
“I’ll be able to tell in an hour or so, so get comfortable.”
“An hour?” you asked incredulously. He nodded, shifting about to at least tidy up the sheets and pillows knocked around in your lovemaking.
“Typically,” he shrugged, back to his usual flippant self. He seemed to get a kick out of frustrating you, which you knew. “Would you like me to read to you?”
The question took you off guard. “What?”
It was his turn to look flustered, now. “When... when others would stick around and try with me, they tended to get antsy just waiting. I believe the anxiety would make it difficult for them to conceive with me, and later carry the child. I try to keep the mothers as relaxed as I can, and... many of them liked my voice.” He seemed almost embarrassed to admit it, self-consciousness shriveling inside like a wilted flower. You touched his hand.
“Do you have any poetry?”
Boba read poetry in a very different way than you were used to. He had opinions about the verses, and would almost have conversations with the poets as he went. You suspected he read out loud to himself when he was alone, but hadn’t had the confidence to do so when you were in the Pocket. You didn’t mind, hearing his ramblings. It wasn’t often that he had none of the answers, and it was amusing to see a god ask why of man, instead of the other way around.
“She flirted with life / and life flirted right back with her, / as if all the universe / came more alive / just for her / and everything felt her glow. / It was / in the dew / in the stars / and the colors of the sky— / they all shone / as bright as they could / in the hopes / to catch her eye. Now this author, he doesn’t like to rhyme, he takes a freeform, fenceless approach to poetry that I haven’t quite decided if I like or not, and I’ve read all of his books about a hundred times—”
You only smiled at his ramblings, nodding when he looked over to you for your opinion, and he would turn back to the words on the page, pointing out similarities and inconsistencies among the verses.
“He talks about love like it will drown him, like it has hurt him and his lovers, he talks about life as if it—here. Down in the cellar were / A hundred dusty bottles / from a hundred different years - sounds like my kind of friend - We’d open barrels to spill / just enough for a glass - wasteful. Parties and friends aren’t places for moderation. The red would drip down the oak / and with our fingers we’d feel the wood / and the wetness of the wine / and for a moment the world would warm / and we’d know somewhere in that feeling / was life as it was intended. I think that’s making something out of nothing, because humans invented wine, not me. And when I was creating life, it was more just a reflex, the first time...”
He spoke so nonchalantly about his creations, about the people in his world, like they were neighbors, instead of thousands of generations past when he’d first gone to sleep. You wondered to yourself if you had ever been a poet, if your words would end up here, if he’d talk to you about the finer points of your experiences, your loves and losses.
You sat up, a little, to snatch the book from his hands. He still stumbled over five or six words by the time his mind caught up. You bit down on your smirk and landed on a longer poem. Most of this author’s works were closer to parables, words of wisdom and quick observations about the nature of the world, but you liked the way this one started, with two simple words.
“Love is / throwing yourself into a stormy sea / hoping there are arms to catch you / knowing that without the leap / there is only the safe / and lonely shore. Considering the famous poet who drowned herself by tossing herself into the sea at losing her love, there’s also the likely possibility of the safe and lonely shore being the stormy sea of a life without love. And the salvation is in the undoing.” You were talking out your ass, of course, but the way Boba’s eyes sparkled with attention made your tongue nearly tie itself in knots. You had to look away, to the harmony of ink and paper again.
“What else?” he said, almost making you lose your place, physically and metaphorically.
“I want to know every part of you, / every—” You stopped for a moment, eyes tracing the rounded shape of such a sharp word. “Every scar, / every bruise, / I want to trace the map of you, / my fingers a compass, / your freckles the constellations—” Your lips stumbled a little, but he didn’t dissuade you from continuing. This poem was a nightmare for your nerve. “Constellations / which in my heart I will chart / so when I close my eyes...” You looked up at him for the last line. “I’ll have you in my stars forever.”
It was like the string keeping you apart snapped, then. He surged forward, knocking the book out of your hands as he kissed you so thoroughly your head spun. You were trembling, or maybe he was, maybe you both were - you couldn’t tell up from down by the flips your heart and mind were doing, as one and out of sync all at once. “You are...” his voice shook while he spoke, emotion clawing up like blood from a wound, as though his mouth could speak what his heart wanted to say.
Then, his eyes took on a sharper quality, none of the glassy, misty look he had just before. They broke away from you, and he turned to look down between your legs. He moved in a smooth slide down to where he’d been inside you just before, and to your astonishment, pressed his face between your legs. You would have called out his thorough distraction had he not pressed a hot lick between your lips, over your entrance, and moaned, closing his eyes and resting his head against your thigh.
“What is it?” you whispered. His lips curled into a wide, dopey smile, one you couldn’t help but mirror back at him. You held your breath—
- It is both Named and Nameless... (Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu, Trans. by Jonathan Star)
- She flirted with life... (Love Her Wild, Atticus, p94)
- Love is... (Love Her Wild, Atticus, p20)
- Down in the cellar... (The Dark Between Stars, Atticus, p 170)
- I want to know every part of you... (The Dark Between Stars, Atticus, p87)
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there’s a lot of conversation around coming out happening right now and i really just now remembered that i haven’t technically come out as gay to my family yet bc of it........ i actually forgot that i was closeted
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Here it is folks:
My definitive ranking of my least favorite bodies of water! These are ranked from least to most scary (1/10 is okay, 10/10 gives me nightmares). I’m sorry this post is long, I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this.
The Great Blue Hole, Belize
I’ve been here! I have snorkeled over this thing! It is terrifying! The water around the hole is so shallow you can’t even swim over the coral without bumping it, and then there’s a little slope down, and then it just fucking drops off into the abyss! When you’re over the hole the water temperature drops like 10 degrees and it’s midnight blue even when you’re right by the surface. Anyway. The Great Blue Hole is a massive underwater cave, and its roughly 410 feet deep. Overall, it’s a relatively safe area to swim. It’s a popular tourist attraction and recreational divers can even go down and explore some of the caves. People do die at the Blue Hole, but it is generally from a lack of diving experience rather than anything sinister going on down in the depths. My rating for this one is 1/10 because I’ve been here and although it’s kinda freaky it’s really not that bad.
Lake Baikal, Russia
When I want to give myself a scare I look at the depth diagram of this lake. It’s so deep because it’s not a regular lake, it’s a Rift Valley, A massive crack in the earth’s crust where the continental plates are pulling apart. It’s over 5,000 feet deep and contains one-fifth of all freshwater on Earth. Luckily, its not any more deadly than a normal lake. It just happens to be very, very, freakishly deep. My rating for this lake is a 2/10 because I really hate looking at the depth charts but just looking at the lake itself isn’t that scary.
Jacob’s Well, Texas
This “well” is actually the opening to an underwater cave system. It’s roughly 120 feet deep, surrounded by very shallow water. This area is safe to swim in, but diving into the well can be deadly. The cave system below has false exits and narrow passages, resulting in multiple divers getting trapped and dying. My rating is a 3/10, because although I hate seeing that drop into the abyss it’s a pretty safe place to swim as long as you don’t go down into the cave (which I sure as shit won’t).
The Devil’s Kettle, Minnesota
This is an area in the Brule River where half the river just disappears. It literally falls into a hole and is never seen again. Scientists have dropped in dye, ping pong balls, and other things to try and figure out where it goes, and the things they drop in never resurface. Rating is 4/10 because Sometimes I worry I’m going to fall into it.
Flathead Lake, Montana
Everyone has probably seen this picture accompanied by a description about how this lake is actually hundreds of feet deep but just looks shallow because the water is so clear. If that were the case, this would definitely rank higher, but that claim is mostly bull. Look at the shadow of the raft. If it were hundreds of feet deep, the shadow would look like a tiny speck. Flathead lake does get very deep, but the spot the picture was taken in is fairly shallow. You can’t see the bottom in the deep parts. However, having freakishly clear water means you can see exactly where the sandy bottom drops off into blackness, so this still ranks a 5/10.
The Lower Congo River, multiple countries
Most of the Congo is a pretty normal, if large, River. In the lower section of it, however, lurks a disturbing surprise: massive underwater canyons that plunge down to 720 feet. The fish that live down there resemble cave fish, having no color, no eyes, and special sensory organs to find their way in the dark. These canyons are so sheer that they create massive rapids, wild currents and vortexes that can very easily kill you if you fall in. A solid 6/10, would not go there.
Little Crater Lake, Oregon
On first glance this lake doesn’t look too scary. It ranks this high because I really don’t like the sheer drop off and how clear it is (because it shows you exactly how deep it goes). This lake is about 100 feet across and 45 feet deep, and I strongly feel that this is too deep for such a small lake. Also, the water is freezing, and if you fall into the lake your muscles will seize up and you’ll sink and drown. I don’t like that either. 7/10.
Grand Turk 7,000 ft drop off
No. 8/10. I hate it.
Gulf of Corryvreckan, Scotland
Due to a quirk in the sea floor, there is a permanent whirlpool here. This isn’t one of those things that looks scary but actually won’t hurt you, either. It absolutely will suck you down if you get too close. Scientists threw a mannequin with a depth gauge into it and when it was recovered the gauge showed it went down to over 600 feet. If you fall into this whirlpool you will die. 9/10 because this seems like something that should only be in movies.
The Bolton Strid, England
This looks like an adorable little creek in the English countryside but it’s not. Its really not. Statistically speaking, this is the most deadly body of water in the world. It has a 100% mortality rate. There is no recorded case of anyone falling into this river and coming out alive. This is because, a little ways upstream, this isn’t a cute little creek. It’s the River Wharfe, a river approximately 30 feet wide. This river is forced through a tiny crack in the earth, essentially turning it on its side. Now, instead of being 30 feet wide and 6 feet deep, it’s 6 feet wide and 30 feet deep (estimated, because no one actually knows how deep the Strid is). The currents are deadly fast. The banks are extremely undercut and the river has created caves, tunnels and holes for things (like bodies) to get trapped in. The innocent appearance of the Strid makes this place a death trap, because people assume it’s only knee-deep and step in to never be seen again. I hate this river. I have nightmares about it. I will never go to England just because I don’t want to be in the same country as this people-swallowing stream. 10/10, I live in constant fear of this place.
Honorable mention: The Quarry, Pennsylvania
I don’t know if that’s it’s actual name. This lake gets an honorable mention not because it’s particularly deep or dangerous, but it’s where I almost drowned during a scuba diving accident.
Edit: I’ve looked up the name of the quarry, it’s called Crusty’s Quarry and is privately owned and only used for training purposes, not recreational diving.
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I think it would've been funny if Mary was on a solo hunt and met Claire, with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes and tough attitude and wearing a shirt she stole from dean that dean stole from john, and Mary's like 'oh. interesting. I'm a grandmother. nightmare scenario.' and this is post the bmol reveal so Dean is fully not talking to her and she thinks he didn't tell her he has a daughter because he didn't trust her so she decides to get in Claire's good graces. 1) because her granddaughter seems to have the impulse control of an irritated bull and she definitely shouldn't be hunting alone and 2) she gave Claire a fake last name so she wouldn't figure out their relation so by the time Dean figures out they've met Claire can help sweeten him up so Mary can fix things with him. Claire meanwhile is annoyed that this random woman keeps following her around but she's already resigned to the fact she attracts parental figures like a magnet.
so they're a VERY chaotic hunting team for awhile. Mary also keeps trying to needle out details about Claire's life- she figures she might blow her cover if she asks too much about her father, so she asks a lot about Claire's mother but she's very cagey about the topic. then one day Claire let's Mary use her phone for something and she notices the background is a pic of her and Cas and Claire doesn't wanna get into the whole angel thing with this woman who won't get out of her car so she's like 'oh yeah that's my dad'. and Mary's IMMEDIATELY just like oh God oh fuck I almost got my son in law killed no wonder Dean hates me. she's fully spiralling about her kids not trusting her so much they're hiding an entire family from her. even BEFORE they knew about the brits Dean didn't tell her?? she spends all night on google taking like those dumb 'am I homophobic??' quizzes to see if she said or did anything to make him uncomfortable and she literally goes to a library and prints out articles about how to support your gay child. turns into one of those hardcore gay rights moms over night. Claire just thinks Mary's doing this because she's figured out Claire's a lesbian and she finds it sweet.
Dean eventually starts responding to Mary's texts again and Mary just wants to tell Dean she knows everything so they can Properly make up and move forward but all the parenting books she's been reading insist that she needs to let him come to her with this. she starts dropping hints though, like 'oh I'm working with this hunter named Claire', thinking he'll take the bait and tell her he's Claire's father but he's just like 'tell that criminal she has 32 hours to return my ivory grip gun or else I'm actually filing a police report against her' and Mary's not in any place to critique parenting styles but she's like 😬 and tells Claire who's like 'tell him they'll never take me alive' and Mary ends up in the middle of dumb banter between these two while Claire's driving but neither of them will admit they're father and daughter and it's driving her INSANE. she just wants to be trusted!!
skdhdj Claire has a p.o. box and one day they stopped by and there was a head of a stuffed unicorn in there as a godfather parody, and Claire calls Dean like 'THAT WAS ALEX'S!!' and Mary hears him cursing over the other line and after they hang up she asks who Alex is and Claire's like 'oh my sister' and Mary's like. YOUR WHAT.
then all the shit with the brainwashing and apocalypse world goes down and by the time she's back in the bunker she's SO over waiting she just wants as normal a family dynamic as she can possibly get so she makes a big show of like getting Dean alone and she has a whole apology speech AND a gay rights speech that she had kids from a local lgbt community group proof read and edit for her. and Dean king of the closet is like thanks! but what the Fuck. and people are fully walking into the library now Sam has popcorn and Mary's like listen sweetheart I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me but at the very least you could have mentioned I'm a grandmother, I mean the resemblance is uncanny- and Dean's like 'shit you met Ben? is he okay?' and she's like. WHO?? WHAT? HOW MANY CHILDREN ARE YOU HIDING. And he's like well Emma's dead ('WHAT') so who else could you POSSIBLY be talking about?? And Mary's like 'Claire!! obviously Claire!!' and Claire, who's on the other side of the room yells 'EW?!' in a put on offended tone and Dean's like 'no she's Cas' brat?!' and Mary's like. 'well she's not a nephilim like Jack! I know you and Cas are together Dean-' and Dean and Cas are like. um. what drew you to that conclusion. pay no attention to the fact we're blushing and now refusing to make eye contact with each other we Swear we are only simply platonic friends we are NOT in a romantic relationship. and then Jack and Claire are both like 'WHAT YOU AREN'T?!?!' and the night is lost to many many confusing confrontations. this post got away from me.
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I love getting on tumblr, doing one nice thing (thanks anon) and then getting it ruined by seeing everybody at war. Good day.
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a/n: did i sit on top of my car to imagine this? sure did. a part of the jujutsu hub collab! thank you vee @suna-reversed for organizing this horny event for us horny people.
word count: 3.8k
genre: smut, nsfw, pwp
warnings: dubcon, literally dumbass porn, degradation + praising kink, daddy kink, gun play, mentions of alcohol consumption, dui and death, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, implied kidnapping
pairing: criminal!toji x f!reader
summary: dozing off in a parking lot seems dangerous but it seems like the right thing to do. that is, until a mysterious man taps on your window.
you shouldn’t have trusted yourself. you’ve vowed to yourself not to drink tonight, especially when you were driving to the city by yourself. maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt, you thought. but that one drink led you to another until you eventually found yourself light headed and could barely walk in a straight line let alone drive home.
so now you decide it’s best to just stop in a random parking lot and doze off for a couple of hours until you’re certain that you’re sober and ready to continue your journey back home. thankfully the lights are on and there are a few other empty cars in the lot, giving you somewhat a sense of security.
even though you aren’t completely sane at the moment, you make sure the doors are locked, turn off the engine and roll your windows down slightly to allow ventilation. if you could avoid a possible car crash, might as well avoid dying from inhaling some fatal gas. so you push back your seat and close your eyes to let sleep take you over.
but it isn’t for long until you hear a knock on the window.
startled and confused, you instantly get up thinking it would be one of the securities patrolling the area, telling you to scram but you’re only met with a rather handsome man, tall and brawny standing next to your car.
he leans down to your eye level and glares at you intimidatingly before he speaks, “get out.”
in such a panicky situation, your heavy cluttered brain doesn’t really tell you what to do nor what the hell is happening so you only stare back at him tongue tied, unable to properly gauge the situation thanks to both chemicals in your system and adrenaline pumping through your veins.
“are you deaf?” he snarls with anger distorting his face.
the sharp eyes piercing through you coupled with the discernible scar on his lips go so well into his menacing demeanor and you’re aware he’s getting impatient. unsure of what to do, your hand reaches for your keys to turn on the engine, thinking it’s best to leave but he bangs on the window as if to tell you that isn’t what he wanted.
“i only told you to get out. so, get the fuck out. now.” toji waits for you to comply, but instead you just sit there frozen and he sighs in exasperation. “look, i have a fucking gun. and if you don’t do as i say, i won’t hesitate to shoot your brains off. you don’t need it anyway, right?”
toji fishes out his gun, waving it in front of you in warning. “and you’d be fucking dumb to think it isn’t loaded.”
the threatening sight of the firearm is finally what makes you unlock your doors and he immediately swings the door open and pulls you out from your vehicle by the wrist. toji eyes you up and down, taking a special interest in the mini skirt you don with a filthy smirk across his face. he peeks inside the car briefly, delighted over the fact that you’re all alone in the middle of the night– in some deserted parking lot, no less.
“where were you from?” he suddenly asks with less gruff in his tone. the eyes raking up and down your smaller frame so flagrantly makes you feel small and vulnerable.
you lick your lips to return moisture lost to parched skin as your eyes shift from his gun to his face. “a party.”
“a party, hm?” he does a double take on your whole skimpy outfit, sending a plethora of titillating thoughts to run in his head and waking up his primal instincts. he hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a while and opportunities don’t come by so easily when he’s a man on the run. he’d have to be an idiot to let this chance slip through his fingers.
“must’ve put a lot of thought on your outfit tonight. why don’t you give me a little twirl?”
toji deliberately taps the gun on the side of his thigh, reminding you what could happen if you either scream or run. getting the hint, you decide to entertain him, knowing well that you could end up with a bullet in any part of your body if you try to escape.
but do you oppose the idea of a sickeningly attractive man trying to check you out with a weapon in his hand? not really. if anything, the alarming nature of the affair only gives a delicious thrill to your already messed up nerves.
his predatory gaze is fixed on your voluptuous curves and the little sway of your hips as you gracelessly turn around in your heels, making blood rush straight down to his cock before telling you to stop.
“get in front of the car.” he urges.
toji cocks the loaded gun in front of you, his expression turning stern and serious once more. “no talking, just do it.”
you walk towards the front with the gun behind your head, careful not to miss your step until you’re facing your car.
“hands on the hood.” he demands, dark eyes silently watching you do as you’re told like a well-trained dog.
you’re certain he can see your ass cheeks peeking underneath the hem of your skirt as cold air hits your skin. the thought of a pair of eyes staring you down hungrily forms an anticipative knot to pull tightly in your stomach as your mind wonders about the dirty things he might and could do to you.
the next thing you feel is the cool metal of the barrel under your skirt, making you shudder as it caresses your puffy folds before dragging upwards to hike up the hem of your unbearably short skirt in favor of checking your panties but oh, what a delightful surprise– not a single thread underneath it all.
“no panties?” he bites back a groan when he notices the glistening slick coated around his black gun. “don’t tell me you’re getting off to this?”
“‘m not–” you deny meekly despite the blossoming heat between your thighs growing bigger when you feel the tip of the barrel against your drenched cunt again.
“don’t lie. you’re a little slut aren’t you? went to a party without your panties on– something tells me you’re an attention whore.” he mocks, poking the gun against your entrance only to observe your little squirms.
“not a slut!” you whine giddily as you spontaneously grind against the long barrel in seek of relief for the dull ache that has formed in your core.
“no? you’re gonna tell me you’re not jerking off to my gun right now?” he chastises with a satirical smile on his lips, feeling his cock harden even more from watching the way you’re eagerly rubbing against the gun he currently holds in his hand.
“i– i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you try not to let your words slur as you play coy, even when breaths are already hitching in your throat.
“oh yeah? ‘cause that cunt is positively leaking right now.” you whimper at his words, being bad and filthy never felt so good– especially to a man you don’t even know. “bet you want me to fill that needy cunt.”
“mhm!” you mewl, gyrating your hips even more salaciously once you manage to find an angle to rub your sensitive clit, sending waves of sensations to every fiber and nerve in your body.
“now that’s an honest little slut.” he coos with amusement lacing in his voice. “why don’t you beg for it?”
you tilt your head back towards him, bottom lip jutting out into a cute pout and eyes pleading. “please..?”
toji lets out a huff, “not good enough, sweetheart.”
your eyes narrow at him, hoping he can read the desperation in them as you call him in the softest mewl that you've used to numerous guys before. “daddy.”
“hmm?” he strokes your clit by rubbing the gun back and forth and watches you quiver with a lopsided grin across his face.
“w-want– need your cock, daddy.” you pant in a shameless expression of your need for him.
“what do you need daddy to do to you, pretty girl?” he studies the barrel, now smeared with your slick.
“need daddy to fuck me– fuck my little tight cunt.”
toji draws his gun away and raises it at the back of your head. “then, get on your knees.”
you don’t need to be told twice as you instantly turn around and face him, the gun now pointing directly to your forehead and follows you even until you’re already kneeled in front him.
“you went a little too fast there, didn’t you?” he chuckles, the sound is smoky and alluring. “so eager. now, take off my pants.”
your hand reaches up to unbuckle his belt and undo his button before pulling the zipper down and tugging off his pants and briefs hastily. your mouth waters at the sight; his thick cock is already throbbing, tip flushing red and leaking precum with a prominent vein on the underside – causing you to quickly disregard the life-threatening weapon in front of your head.
seeing you blatantly gawk at him causes pride to spiral in his chest, as if you’ve never seen a dick before. but is it bad for toji to assume that you've never seen a dick as big as his?
“getting nervous now?” he teases. “fuck that. put it inside your mouth.”
toji exhales sharply once your tongue carefully licks off the salty pre on the tip, rousing him further with only kitten licks until the barrel nudges your head in warning, forcing you to stop your ministrations.
“are you asking to get a hole through your head?” he scowls, showing apparent irritation.
“no.” you answer meekly.
“then? i told you to put it inside your fucking mouth.”
“‘m sorry, daddy.” you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and give it a few pumps up and down his shaft in hopes to please him and calm him down. “promise i’ll be a good girl.”
“then stop fucking around.”
without a second to waste, you wrap your lips around his cock and hollow your cheeks, squeezing and milking his cock with your tongue and throat as your head bobs up and down. you graze your tongue on the underside and slowly drag upwards, following the curve of his vein before giving a harsh suck on his tip, drawing out a loud groan from his throat.
“look at daddy.”
and you do, fixing your gaze with his darker ones as you slobber his cock with so much drool and you relax your throat in order to force yourself down to the base, devouring him whole even as he tilts the gun next to your head.
“wish i had my phone right now. you should see how you look.” his other hand reaches the top of your head, holding you in place and causes you to choke slightly before jerking his hips forward and begins to fuck your throat.
squelching noises resonate in the silent air, mingled with his grunts. drool starts to seep from the corners of your mouth and tears begin to well up in your eyes as his heavy balls slap against your chin.
“boys must really love you, hm?” you can feel the tension in his fingers as he puts monumental effort into restraining himself and he finally draws his gun away. “just taking it like a good girl.”
you can only whimper around his cock, the praise making you feel hotter that you find your hand between your thighs to push a finger inside your wet cunt.
“fuck– yeah, keep touching yourself like that.” he growls, the sound rumbling in his chest as the vibrations from your muffled moans are slowly sending him to the brink of an orgasm.
you’re too immersed by your own finger pumping in and out to even care about the ache that has formed on your jaw but the moment you feel his cock twitching, you both know it won’t be long until he breaks down.
“you’re gonna swallow all of it. got it?” he states more than questions, feeling his balls tightening as he starts to lose the last remaining control he owns.
you hum in response and flutter your eyes close and you wait until his hips still before he spurts thick ropes of cum down your throat, invading all your senses with the bitter taste of his load.
once he has emptied, you pull away with your tongue gliding along his length, not forgetting to lick off the sensitive slit to clean off any remnants.
“open your mouth.” he demands. you part your puffy lips and stick your tongue out, showing your obedience to his prior order and a delightful smirk makes its way on his face upon seeing that you’ve downed every drop of his cum. “good girl.”
“to be honest, i didn’t think you’d cum quickly.” you blurt out bluntly.
his brows furrow and his face contorts into a scowl. “‘fuck did you say?”
you shrug nonchalantly. you don’t know where it’s coming from either– the alcohol still lingering in your veins or the fact that you feel beyond proud that you’ve made him, some guy who claimed that he wanted to rob your car cum so fast. “well, all the guys told me i give the best head but none of them ever–”
“get up. face the car.”
toji clicks his tongue as you blink at him in confusion and he grabs your arm to pull you up on your feet before spinning you around and bending you down on the hood with his body pressing against your back. you swallow nervously when you feel a nudge against your ass, his dick is still hard despite the fact that he has cummed just a minute ago.
“you’re gonna regret that. once i fucking ravage that little cunt, you’re gonna be begging for me to cum quick.” he leans down to your ear as he threatens, sending shivers up and down your spine.
“no. i won’t give a shit if it hurts you or when you cry for me to stop.”
toji gives a harsh smack on the plump flesh, making you jolt in surprise. with your hands down on the hood, he lifts up one of your knees on top of the car, causing you to spread wide open in an instant before he impatiently pokes the tip of his cock against your pulsating hole.
“but that’s what you want, right?”
your eyes roll back, lips parting in an appreciative squeal as you feel his fat cock stretches you out accompanied with a delicious burn when he sinks in deeper.
“mmh– s-so big–!”
“yeah? never had a dick this big before?” toji pulls out almost completely, eyes fixed on the cock glistening with your slick under the street lights, not missing the white cream attached onto the skin.
toji cuts you off with one hard slam of his hips, drilling his cock into your tight pussy in a brutal pace while you keen and whimper as it brushes against your walls, each stretch and drag inside you so exquisite while deep crescent shapes of his nails form on your pliant skin as he holds you firmly by the hips for leverage.
“no wonder you’re so fucking tight. stupid boys didn’t know how to fuck you right.” his words thrum in a burst of heat as he growls in your ear, breaking through your every thought.
you tilt your head towards him with heavy lidded eyes and meet his lust addled gaze. your mouth is gaping in breathless moans, tongue slightly lolled out from your lips as you try to reach closer to his scarred lips, wanting to crash your lips onto his before it stretches into a devilish smirk and you feel warm liquid lands on your palate.
“you looked like you were begging to taste my spit.” he mocks. toji watches as you eagerly swallow it down your throat and he lets out a brittle chuckle. “dirty slut.”
your pussy flutters upon hearing how he degrades you, causing you to buck your hips wildly against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts.
“you liked that, didn’t you? i can feel you clamping down on me like a fucking whore.” he derides, fucking you harder and deeper until your world is reduced into nothing but the way he makes you feel completely stuffed and filled, the cockhead kissing your cervix with each deep strokes.
“please– make me cum, daddy–” you keen as pressure pulls taut in your lower stomach, the slick noises are so loud that the both of you can hear them even through your moans.
your body flushes against his, so close together and you can only focus on the sounds of flesh against flesh, the salacious rhythm making you more delirious.
“then, cum for me. let me feel you gush all over me.” toji brings his fingers to rub against your clit, easily tipping you over the edge by pressing tight circles until you find yourself crashing down with an orgasm exploding throughout your body.
“you want more?” he taunts, helping you ride out the aftershock by continuously rutting his hips into your cunt and not giving you the slightest chance to recuperate.
“ah– ‘s too much–” you whimper as soon as the pleasure begins to numb and you clutch onto his wrist tightly to try and pry his hand away from your sensitive clit.
“too much? don’t think that i’m done with you yet.”
toji finally draws away from you, but only turns you around to face him and effortlessly puts you on top of the hood with your elbows propping your weight. with his hands, he spreads and keeps your legs apart before sheathing his cock back inside your pulsing cunt again, completely mindless of your pathetic sobs. he lifts up your top, not surprised over the lack of bra underneath and he intently watches the way your tits bounce with each merciless pound of his cock.
“s-stop– please–” you whimper feebly as you try to shut your trembling legs together but he doesn’t budge and only keeps his grip on your thighs even tighter, stretching out your pussy for him wider.
“fucking take it.”
toji ignores your plea and his head dips low to your chest, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples and starts to flick it with his tongue coupled with harsh sucks until he pulls back with a pop and watches as the nipple stands erect before assaulting the other, swiftly sending sparks of pleasure down to the bundle of nerves.
“might as well keep you around. be my personal fucktoy. would you like that?” he grins up at you to see your jaw slacking, mouth falling in a wide ‘o’ as the burn down your core begins to cease.
“yesyesyes– make me your slut–!” your toes curl, making your heels drop down to the ground while your knuckles turn white from squeezing your hands into balled fists too hard.
“yeah? you’d do anything for a good fuck, huh?” he sneers at you, although he’s fascinated with your state of arousal.
“mhm– need daddy to fill me up with his cum–” your back rests against the car, reveling in the feeling of his cock abusing your swollen cunt like you’re nothing but a sex doll.
“but daddy’s not gonna cum yet. not even when you’re tightening around him like this.” toji slams your hips down closer to him, fucking into you deeper and harder with his heavy balls smacking your ass.
“t-too deep–! daddy, i’ll–” you babble, losing the ability to form cohesive words as you feel a strange knot twisting rapidly in your guts. the feeling is too intense and unbearable– the refined drags of his vein brushing against your spongy walls is anything but agonizing.
“come on. use your big girl words.” he drags out slowly and quickly pumps back into you ruthlessly. “or are you too dumb already?”
toji lifts up your legs over his shoulders as he leans down closer to you and he nips on your pulse point, causing your body to tense as your hands find home in his dark locks and tight shirt.
as soon as he lets go, your pupils are blown wide as pleasure washes throughout your body and you feel yourself gushing around the cock still buried inside you along with a broken moan from your lips. the release is oddly more relieving than your prior orgasm, making your body feel lighter as your mind ascends to a state of euphoria. you find yourself panting heavily as you squirt all over him, staining his black shirt with clear fluid and with some of it dribbling down to his thick thighs.
“making such a mess on daddy.” he groans as he feels your walls convulse around him rapidly, milking his cock dry and slowly dragging him down to his own high for the second time of the night.
you can only look at him in a cockdaze with no particular thoughts running inside your head, each one formed gone like popping bubbles. your eyes glued onto every bit of his features; the brows furrowed in concentration, the lips parting in grunts, the damp matted hair against his forehead and you drink the sight of it all even when you’re not sure if you’ll remember it all the next morning.
“fuck– it’d be a shame to not cum inside this pretty cunt, right?” his thrusts turn sporadic, dick twitching as a telltale of his pending orgasm that’s soon to crash down over him. he didn’t need to hear your answer as he ruts into you faster, hips stuttering out of control before a low, guttural sound escapes his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum, flooding into your womb and stuffing you full with his seed.
and once he lets go of your legs you can feel your whole body sore all over, but you can’t bring yourself to care nor whatever is going to happen after this when the man in front of you has given you what you truly wanted and made you feel satiated like you’ve never felt before.
toji pulls out his spent cock and runs a hand through his hair before putting his pants back on. a cocky smirk graces his lips at the sight of your fucked out body, still splayed on top of the hood with his cum dribbling out from your pussy.
he presses your cheeks together with one hand and forces you to look at him, even as your lids are getting heavy to lift.
“i was serious about you being my fucktoy– and stealing your car.” he cackles. “so, do you wanna be in the back seat or do you prefer the trunk?”
duskamethyst © 2020 • all rights reserved. do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.
enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)
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𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙛 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀
summary┃they say an orgasm reduces stress—bucky puts that to the test.
pairing┃librarian!bucky x f!college!reader
word count┃2,364 words
warnings┃jealous!reader, stress, talk of school (exams, midterms, etc), thigh riding, cocky!bucky, lots of teasing, definitely a metal arm kink, even a dog tag kink, pubic hair, bucky eating you out on a library chair, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, bucky has a hair pulling kink, mocking, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃surprise surprise 😎 hope you enjoy this au!
The library was the one place you could always go to find quiet. It was never necessarily a place where you could slow down; drowning in proposals, research papers, and God knows what else your advisor needed.
But you could always seek a few hours of quiet and an aura of calmness even if it was a forced aesthetic for Instagram stories that would give the illusion of productivity.
You were there to work.
So it didn’t help that the librarian happened to be none other than Bucky Barnes. A man with a reputation, and despite the multiple libraries on campus, it was his that seemed to be busy almost always.
Everyone wanted a glimpse of him, dog tags creating soft clinks as his heavy boots thudded along the carpeted floors of the stacks and squeaked along the scuffed laminate floors of the study spaces.
He almost always wore tight black shirts with dark jeans making his most uncommon feature stand out that much more—the black and gold metal prosthetic that had you drooling.
It was inappropriate, but that man was walking sex appeal, an Adonis of a man who regularly sent you winks from across the room and a thumbs up after asking you about your day.
You appreciated how chatty he got, needing the break from the mind-numbing amount of readings you had to do just to keep up with your courses.
Still, sitting in the library, headphones blaring music that was supposed to help you concentrate and all you could think about was Bucky’s hands all over you.
Maybe it was embarrassing how you were known as a library regular to Bucky, sitting yourself in one of the corner desks as you crammed for the multiple seminars, presentation, meetings, midterms, and exams all while everyone else seemed to be chatting and giggling away around you.
You also felt a pang of jealously when a group of pretty girls flocked the information desk that Bucky sat at, making him laugh as he wore his infamous panty-dropping smirk.
They were young, bright and full of energy unlike your grad-school self.
No, you were fuelled by coffee and cheap dining hall sandwiches and the occasional energy drink that made you nauseous and wake up with a raging headache but hey, at least you got that paper done.
Maybe Bucky just took pity on you, seeing the stress practically oozing from you as you chewed on your lip with a look on your face that said what the fuck?
Whatever it was, he always made your days just a little bit better, and for that, you were grateful.
Today was no different, having three different exams in a row and to put it lightly, you didn’t know what the fuck was going on in any of the courses.
It was a Friday night, which meant that the library became increasingly desolate as the hours ticked by. But exams started Monday and you were taking all the extra time you needed to prep.
Unfortunately for you, you had lost track of time, a gentle tap on your shoulder startling you as you tugged your earbuds out of your ears in a panicked haste before you relaxed.
It was only Bucky.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he smiled softly, a chuckle passing through his lips as you shook your head.
“No don’t worry, I just scare easy.” You joked, watching him laugh, scrunching his nose in the process and oh you were in deep.
“I hate to do this, Blossom, but I’ve gotta start closin’.” He informed you as you clicked your phone’s home screen to get the time, groaning as you realized you let the time slip away from you.
“Oh man, I’m so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t even realize what time it was,” you said, trying to quickly organize your scattered papers and various uncapped highlighters before Bucky clasped his hand on your shoulder.
“Hey,” his soft tone caused you to stop and look at him, “stay, okay?” He offered with a gentle expression.
“Keep studyin’ until I finish closin’ and then we can walk out together, yeah?” His words left you stunned, not only at his generosity, but at the fact that you and Bucky would be all alone in the library.
You nodded your head, feeling him squeeze your shoulder, temporarily relieving the build up of tension.
“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” you tell him honestly, “it’ll be our little secret.” He winks, turning on his heels and giving you one last glance over his shoulders.
You manage to focus for another fifteen minutes before your thoughts are running wild and you can hear the familiar thudding of his footsteps.
Bucky doesn’t say anything at first, pulling up a chair to sit beside you, “how’s it coming?”
You look at him and throw your head back with a groan, “I think I’m tapping out for the night.”
He chuckles again, cocking his head to the side as he lets his eyes slip from yours for a split second.
“I see you in here studyin’ practically everyday, I think you’re bein’ a little too hard on yourself, Blossom.” He lets out, putting the caps over your highlighters.
“You deserve a break, that’s for sure.” He smirks as you raise your eyebrows, “I deserve a bottle of wine and an uninterrupted night with my vibrator.” You chortle, watching the way your words catch Bucky’s attention.
It’s silent, tension falling between you both and you think you’ve ruined the sweet moment you were having.
“A good orgasm is a great way to deal with stress,” he cocks his head, leaning against the chair as his thighs are on display.
“No need to tell me twice, maybe if I didn’t come home exhausted I’d actually get the chance.” You quip watching the way Bucky crosses his arms and cocks his head at you.
“You want one?” He asks and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “one what?” You ask, watching him lean forward, planting his elbows on his thighs.
“An orgasm. Do you want one?” Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping as Bucky just shrugs his shoulder as if he had just offered you a piece of gum.
“I can see how stressed you are, Blossom. It’s the least I can do.” That goddamn nickname sends a shiver down your spine as you’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard him right.
“That’s a good one, Bucky.” You say, nervously laughing as you try to pack up your various textbooks before Bucky’s cold and heavy hand is stopping you.
“I’m serious,” you’re still stunned as your eyes dart around the library.
“Bucky, I mean, we can’t. Here?” You practically whisper yell as he shrugs his shoulders again, “why not?”
You look like a deer in headlights, “there’s no else left, I made sure to check.” He scoots closer to you until he’s wedging his legs between yours, thighs snug against his.
“Plus,” he licks his lips, “I’d be lying if I said fuckin’ you over one of these tables hasn’t been on my mind every time I see you.”
You gasp, breath hitching in your throat as you watch Bucky lick his lip before tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Blossom. All riled up when you see me talkin’ to some other girls,” he brushes some hair away from your face, “it’s cute.”
You always knew you weren’t subtle, but you didn’t realize how trained Bucky’s eye was.
“We can start easy, one orgasm right here,” he pats his thigh.
Your pussy jumps, core aching as his splays his hands over his thick thighs invitingly.
“Just one?” You ask, “just one.” Bucky repeats as he helps you up and over his thigh.
“But I don’t think one’ll cover it, Blossom. You seem pretty stressed.” He smirks, tone cocky as you suck in a harsh breath when he bumps his leg up against you.
You use your hands to steady yourself, warm flesh against where his prosthetic fuses with the rest of him.
“Look at me, Blossom,” he purrs, “I want you to look at me while you ride my thigh.”
You don’t need to be told twice, maintaining eye contact as you shyly move your hips over his leg.
The friction is enough to make soft pants leave through your lips, Bucky’s fingers deep against your hips.
“I think you need a little help,” he hums, bouncing his leg as you move against him.
“There’s no need to be shy, Blossom.” He whispers against the skin of your neck—hot breath and gentle kisses—as you let your eyes flutter closed.
“Been wantin’ to have you all to myself since the first time you stepped through these doors.”
His words leave butterflies fluttering in your tummy, but the feeling of his thigh against your clit is more pressing.
“Mmm, good girl, Blossom. Feels good, doesn’t it?” He teases, one cool hand snaking up the sweater you’re wearing to toy with your nipples.
“When’s the last time you had an orgasm, hmm?” He questions, palming your breast as you let out a moan.
“When’s the last time you’ve had someone’s mouth on that sweet pussy of yours, eatin’ you out until you can’t breath?”
Goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin at his words, a mewl leaving your lips, “months,” you hiss in response.
You can hear him hum, “well that’s just no fair to you, Blossom.” He mocks gently, continuing to rock your hips against his thigh.
“I think I wanna see you come. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you come over my thigh and soak your panties?” He whispers in your ear, nipping at your lobe.
It doesn’t take much more before you feel your abdomen contracting with the force of your orgasm that bubbles through your entire body leaving you breathless and squirming.
“Mmm, look so good cummin’ for me, Blossom.” He purrs, massaging your hips as he lets you come down from your high.
Your eyes are tired and heavy when you open them again, lips parted before Bucky slots his over yours. His lips are soft and he tastes faintly like Redbull as you moan against his lips.
“Was one enough?” He hums, “or are you gonna be greedy and ask for another?” He smirks as you swallow thickly.
He seems happy with your answer, helping you stand on your shaky legs as you have to grab onto his dangling dog tags to keep yourself balanced.
Bucky kneels in front of you, kissing above your bellybutton as he hooks his fingers under your pants and panties to drag them down your legs as you shudder at the cool air.
His nose bumps against the hair decorating your mound, humming before he looks up at you.
“Sit, on the chair,” he instructs and you do as you’re told—planting yourself on the chair, watching Bucky move between your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders.
“Now remember, Blossom,” he smirks, “make as much noise as you want.”
He doesn’t say anything else, instead, diving in head first as he licks and sucks until you’re squirming under him—overstimulated from the previous orgasm.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” he groans, fingers prodding against your entrance before he’s stretching you out and there’s nothing you can grip onto except his hair.
You tug at the locks, sending a groan through his chest, “keep doin’ that,” he breathes.
He curls his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and you can’t stop your legs from tightening around his face.
“Can feel how close you are, gonna cum all over my face?” He cooes against your pussy, watching the way your head lolls back and your chest is falling and rising rapidly.
“Well don’t hold back, Blossom. Let me hear ya’,” he purrs before you feel your orgasm gripping you once again.
His name leaves your lips, fingers in his hair as you struggle to catch your breath.
“Holy fuck,” you pant, opening your eyes to see Bucky rise to his height and you can see the outline of his bulge.
He leans down so he’s face to face with you, smirking, “sweetest pussy in the whole goddamn world.”
You’re past the point of being embarrassed or worried, the two orgasm Bucky delivered far too overwhelming as he tugs you up and over the desk you were studying at for hours.
You hear his belt buckle unfasten, zipper going down as Bucky’s cold metal hand grips at the supple flesh of your ass.
“What a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, feeling him line himself up with you as you wiggle your ass to try to tell him that you need this.
“Such a greedy little thing, two orgasms not enough? Need my cock stuffing your sweet pussy too?” His voice is a low rasp as you feel him slide into you.
He keeps you pinned against the table, rocking his hips into you and you can hear the creaking of the table at the force of his thrusts.
“Feels so good, Blossom. Like you were meant for me.” He can’t keep his voice steady, moans freely leaving his lips—the sound enough to start pushing you over the edge.
You can hear his dog tags, feel his fingers digging into your skin, and you can feel him fold his body over yours to whisper in your ear.
“Cum for me, Blossom. Mark me as yours.”
You snap, breath sucked out of your lungs as Bucky stills his hips deep inside of you as he cums with a deep groan.
You’re still reeling, head spinning as you realize what had just happened.
Three orgasms. One library. All because of Bucky.
“I didn’t kill ya’ did I, Blossom?” Bucky chuckles breathlessly, helping you up and into his arms to help steady you.
“Maybe a little,” you chuckle lazily, meeting his eyes as he looks down at your softly.
There’s a twinkle in his eye, one that you’ve never seen in him as he runs his thumb over your lip.
“Then let’s get you home so I can take care of you.”
5K notes · View notes
summary ─ “fuck him,” you muttered. “fuck him sideways.”
pairing ─ avenger!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader
warnings ─ smut, +18, a/b/o dynamics, mutual pining, flirting, kissing, light choking (:d), rough sex, getting together, heat/rut sex, scenting, idiots in love
a/n ─ blame seb for that ig story picture. it made me do it. but seriously, can he choke me. anyway sfjdsjf hope you like it! leave a comment if you do! thankl youuuu <333 (italic is bucky, bold is reader) enjoy this 5.6k monstrosity.
You and Bucky had been flirting for some time, but it was more of a friendly flirting rather than something more. He would call you cute pet names and let you play with his hair on movie nights, and you would let him cuddle or hug you whenever he needed touch. You liked spending time and having a lot of fun with him.
Sometimes you scented each other, too.
His scent was reminding you all kinds of things that you considered safety and homey, so you never said ‘no’ when he wanted to scent you. He let you scent him back most of the time and you used it on his behalf; scenting him when he felt anxious, letting him bury his nose into your neck so that he’d calm down after a brutal mission or nightmare. It worked well for both of you.
Sometimes, though, you wished something more from him. There were times where you wanted him to kiss you, to pull you flush against his muscle-clad, big and warm body and to touch you like that. You wanted to know how his arousal smelled like up-close, but you were valuing your friendship a bit too much to make a move; you were afraid that you’d lose him, and you couldn’t take the risk.
So, you kept it to yourself.
Times went by while both of you went on with your cute flirting and occasional hair-playing and cuddle/hug and scenting game. You knew you should have stopped scenting him back, you didn’t want to get in between him and his potential mate, since he’d been seeing other women sometimes. You overheard him and Sam talking about Tinder and getting dates from there. You also saw him carrying a gorgeous blonde to his room while kissing the daylight out of her.
You wanted so badly to be her, but it was just not possible. You knew it.
Sighing to yourself, you wiggled under your thick duvet, burying your body into the bed even more. It was way too late for you to be awake, but you couldn’t sleep. Your bed was comfy, warm and you put your duvet into a position that got you looking like a burrito. You were supposed to be passed out with these beautiful conditions, but your body was too hot, you felt too itchy to go to sleep. Your heat was close. You could sense it; you were in the pre-heat phase and you had about two days until it hit you.
You growled to yourself angrily a little as you wiggled a bit more. Your head was partially under your pillow when you heard your phone ping-ing. Frowning, you stuck your hand out to grab it, seeing that you had one unread message. You opened it.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned out accidentally when you saw what it was.
It was Bucky. He was shirtless and had his dog tags on. He was holding a cup in his big hands. All the muscles and veins were visible and bulging. He had a flirtatious look on his face. He seemed to wearing thin basketball shorts under, but they did very little to hide whatever he was… hiding there.
“Shit,” you whimpered. Your face was heating up rapidly. You felt your body was ready to burst, explode, whatever. Your heart was beating in your mouth. You could feel your pussy getting wet and even throb a little. You swallowed the spit that collected in your mouth when you heard another ping.
ah, shit, sorry, doll. i meant to send that to someone else.
Well, you thought and sighed.
“It’s not fair,” you whined and inched down on your bed, your legs spreading themselves instinctively. You bit your lip. You could finally make a move and say something suggestive, or you could just… chicken out. “Fuck him,” you muttered. “Fuck him sideways.” Your phone ping-ed again.
how is it look, though? i’m not sure about sending it rn
i think i’m chickening out
You rolled your eyes as his texts. Of course he didn’t like the picture where he looked so fucking sexy.
no, you look good, you texted him back. you look damn good, actually. idk why you’re chickening out. You saw the three dots that were inclining that he was writing and waited.
i dunno, he sent. she’s real nice, ya know. i don’t wanna fuck up
“Fuck whoever she is,” you whispered. “Fuck her if she thinks you’re fucking up when you send her a picture like this.”
why would sending a shirtless pic make you fuck up anyways?
she might think i’m a bit forward? idk honey i really care about her and i don’t want her to think i’m only talking to her bc i wanna fuck her ‘til she passes out.
“What the fuck,” you whispered again, your eyes narrowing and scent turning into its sickly sweet self by the half-dirty talk. Bucky never said anything to you like this before. You shared almost everything, but when the subject was sex Bucky was always a bit shy. Now, though, he didn’t sound shy. “I shouldn’t find this sexy.”
well, i don’t think she’ll have a problem with that, pal. esp with that pic
The three dots appeared again.
so you’re saying that she’ll know that my only purpose isn’t fucking her through her mattress?
i mean i know this isn’t a dick pic but still
You shake your head fondly. Even when he was trying to sext with a woman, he was being a gentleman. You liked that about him. He was always thinking how the other person would feel if his actions were to get misunderstood. It was cute.
you’re cute, you sent. she’ll understand.
Dots appeared but disappeared a second later. It repeated itself for a couple time before it totally vanished. You frowned but didn’t think too much about it. There really wasn’t much he could say to your last text, you thought. Maybe he finally sent the picture to the person who should have received it in the first place.
You took a deep breath as you looked at the picture again.
God, he was so handsome. He recently had a haircut, and it looked very good on him. He had faint stubble. When you first looked at the picture, you thought he had a flirtatious look, but actually he was just adorable. He was caught in mid-wink, you thought. His flesh hand was dwarfing the big navy colored mug he had in his hand. You knew that mug, you bought him that as a birthday gift, and it was a very big one. You never noticed how big his hands were before, but now that you knew, it was going to be hard to take your eyes away from them.
“Ugh,” you grunted, feeling the itchy sensation increasing. “Fuck me.” Locking your phone, you dropped it on your night stand. You were wet and horny, but you didn’t have any energy to touch yourself. So, you just hugged your pillow and closed your eyes.
The morning found you pouring yourself a cereal with still sleepy eyes. The sun was shining brightly, the kitchen was quiet and it seemed like you were the only living creature in the tower. You yawned as you put the cereal box down and poured some milk into your bowl. You perched yourself onto the chair by the kitchen island and dug into your cereal.
You had… vivid dreams last night. It included a pair of hands touching your naked skin, blur of colors and some moaning. You vaguely remembered that there were hushed whispers of a little dirty talk, but the details blurred as soon as you woke up.
That meant you were even achier than last night. You grunted into your cereal.
“Hey,” you heard someone murmur and jumped, it was Bucky. He looked like he just came back from a run. “Shit, sorry,” Bucky muttered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” You shrugged as you slurped the last of your cereal. With the corner of your eyes, you saw his nostrils flare and realized he was scenting the air. “Y’alright, doll?”
“Mmhm, just achy,” you murmured and carried your bowl to the sink. Bucky stayed silent and watched you washing your bowl and rolling your shoulders a couple times. He could smell your scent; it was content but somehow… off. He also knew your heat was close. Your scent was too sweet albeit being a little off, it was like he just stepped into a bakery and got hit with freshly baked goods. It was mouthwatering. Eyes narrowing, Bucky murmured a silent ‘fuck it’ to himself, he stepped behind you.
“You seem awfully tense, honey,” Bucky muttered into your ear as he pressed his body to yours. “Couldn’t sleep well?” You tensed. You could feel the heat coming off of his body, could smell his clean sweat, cologne and his own musk; it was woody and fresh: like a bonfire in the middle of a forest. More importantly, you could feel all the muscles and ridges on his body against yours.
“Somethin’ like that,” you whispered. Bucky cooed at you softly. His arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you in and making you rest your body against his. His scent surrounded you in a second, and you felt like you were being cocooned in your bed by your soft blankets.
“Breathe with me, love,” he murmured. “It will help you loosen up.” You swallowed and nodded. Feeling his chest moving behind you, you followed his movements. “That’s it,” he said, “You’re doing great.” You breathed in, in, and in and then let it ouuuut. You felt your shoulder relax a bit. “That’s it,” he whispered and─
His lips were right over your pulse. His stubble was rubbing the sensitive flesh of your neck. You shuddered uncontrollably. Bucky hushed you as his lips brushed against your skin. His hot breath was licking your neck, making the hair on your body rise. He nosed your glands there; taking lungful of your scent, Bucky grumbled to himself about how good you smell.
With a small grunt of his, he took a step forward and cornered you against the counter. You gasped.
“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, “You are tense, honey.” His lips found your jaw, his nose poked your temple and you shuddered again.
It felt like you were underwater but weren’t drowning; everything was peaceful quiet, and you were floating.
“Bucky,” you whispered. He hummed. “Bucky…” He kissed your neck, bit down on the flesh and sucked it a little. You felt your legs tremble when you felt your heat creeping in even closer and grabbed his arms around your waist for support. You tipped your head back, exposing your throat to him, and closed your eyes.
Placing kisses all over your neck, nibbling on your jaw, one of his hands grabbed your face to turn it towards him. “Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll stop. I promise I’ll stop.” You didn’t say anything but leaned into his touch. “Tell me.”
“I want it,” you whispered, surpassing a shiver. Your heat was taking over your body, and Bucky needed the verbal confirmation before it consumed you.
“Honey,” he said softly. “Your heat is starting, do you want me to help you?” You gasped silently, realizing that you were feeling woozy a little and your vision was fuzzy around the edges, now.
“Yes,” you answered him. “Please, alpha?”
Bucky’s chest rumbled lightly with approval and captured your lips with his. You moaned into his mouth. It was as soft as it looked and was caressing yours so nicely. You whimpered as you sneaked your hand into his slightly damp hair. You craned your neck to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue join the game, too. Bucky groaned.
“Fuck, love,” he whimpered. “Your skin feels so soft under my hands, your body is so warm… Mmm, I wanna eat you right up.” You wiggled in his arms.
“Please,” you whispered. Bucky bit down on your bottom lip. His other hand sneaked into your pajama bottoms, sliding right into your panties and nudging your clit gently. You gasped loudly as Bucky cursed.
“Holy shit, honey,” Bucky groaned. “You’re wetting your pajama bottoms with your slick.” You whimpered when you felt one long digit swiping the slick that gathered between the lips of your pussy. “Is it for me?” He asked, a low growl could be heard in his voice. You nodded. Bucky tugged on your hair. “Words. Use’em.”
“Yes!” You cried out. “Yes, only for you, Bucky, yes!”
“That’s more like it,” Bucky murmured and slid two of his fingers inside you. Biting your lip to stop yourself moan loudly, your hand tightened in Bucky’s hair and you bared your throat to Bucky by the throwing your head back even more, submitting him.
The way Bucky was fingering you was relentless; two of his long and thick fingers were stroking your wet walls, crooking them to graze over your sensitive spot sometimes while the heel of his hand was pressing down on your clit. You were being stimulated from almost all your open ended nerves so perfectly, you wanted to cry.
“I wish you see how you look right now, baby,” Bucky whispered. “You’re so deep into your pleasure...” You hummed and let out a gasp when he crooked his fingers again. “You take my fingers so nicely. My hand is drenched, baby, goddamn.” He nosed your bared throat, taking deep breaths, Bucky filled his lungs with your sweet heat scent. “Gotta get you to your room, love. The whole kitchen is gonna smell like your heat if we don’t.” You whined, but you weren’t lost in your head yet, so you knew he was right. You nodded. Bucky kissed your neck and suddenly, your world was upside down.
You were thrown over his shoulder like he was a caveman and you were his prey. “Bucky!” He chuckled, his metal hand slapping your ass, he stepped into the elevator and told Jarvis to go up to your floor. He carried you like that throughout the whole trip. You got to feel his back muscles all the way to your room, though, so you thought it wasn’t so bad.
Bucky dropped you on the floor gently. You were standing right in front of your room. “I can wait here,” Bucky murmured and continued when he saw your confused look. “While you are getting nest sorted out, I can wait here.”
Your heart swelled in your chest because ain’t he the most thoughtful.
“Aww, James,” you whispered. He just smiled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Really?” He nodded. You knew he took these kinds of things serious because he was a bit old-school, but you liked that about him very much.
“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and sort your nest out while I get us some water and snacks?” You placed your hand on your heart.
“A man after my stomach,” you said dreamily, making him snort. “Okay.” He kissed your neck one more time and walked back to the elevator.
You had a spring on your step as you walked inside of your room and stripping the bed from unnecessary things. You pulled out your softest linens, blankets and pillows; arranging them on the bed the way you liked, you added some extra tiny pillows. It looked inviting, personal and smelled like you strongly. You smiled, pleased with your efforts. Just as you sat down on the bed in your underwear, you had kept your oversize t-shirt though, you heard a knock.
“Come in!” You called out and saw Bucky’s smiling, handsome face. He had arms full of snacks and water bottles, he also had other things which you couldn’t figure out what. You watched him as he put the things he carried into your room on your small desk.
“I, uh,” he started, suddenly looking bashful. “I thought you might want, uh,” Bucky stammered over his words and just handed you something.
It was his blanket from his bed and the sweatshirt you saw him wearing yesterday.
“I can always put them aside or bring more, whatever you want,” Bucky hurriedly added. You shook your head as you reached and took them from him. You folded the sweatshirt and put it right next to your bed where you would be reaching something to wear after you were through, and spread the blanket on your bed, rearranging your pillows. You took your t-shirt off before you turned and faced with Bucky.
You walked up to him slowly until you were standing right in front of him. You could see his nostrils flaring, pupils dilating and him scenting the air. “Kiss me, alpha?” Bucky let out a broken sound before he pulled you against his body, his flesh hand cradling your face gently, and leaned down to give you the kiss that you asked for so nicely.
It was, hands down, the most loving and gentle kiss you’ve ever had. It was nothing like the kiss you’ve shared in the kitchen. This one was chaste. Bucky’s lips were soft, and he was kissing you like a longtime lover. Moaning lightly, you tilted your head to your side and deepened the kiss a bit; pushing up on your tiptoes and winding your arms around his neck, you felt his arms wrapping themselves around your waist one more time.
You felt amazingly consumed and caged and overwhelmed, and you were fucking loving it.
Bucky pulled back slightly. “Bed,” he commanded. His voice was rough and low. His woodsy, fresh smell had taken a sharp turn and now it was more like burning wood and citrus. You loved how forest-y his scent was. You quickly climbed on the bed, and a second later Bucky joined you.
His big body caged yours under him. The body heat this man had was driving you crazy because he was so fucking warm, it made you want to wrap yourself around him like a koala and never let go.
“Bucky…” You breathed when you felt his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, gasped when he placed a soft bite there. His light stubble was rubbing your skin raw, but you were loving it just like everything else. You felt him press his body against yours fully as he drew in a deep breath.
“God, your scent is drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured and kissed his way downwards. He stopped when he came across to your bra, looking up in your eyes, he silently asked for permission to take it off. You nodded. As soon as your breasts were free from their containment, Bucky latched on to one of your nipples, making you throw your head back and moan loudly.
“Fuck!” You yelped when he bit down and sucked and did… things with his tongue. He was licking and sucking, his saliva had covered your nipple and you could hear the slurping sound. It was so sexy, the pleasure was so intense; you felt like you were about to come. Whimpering, you slid your hands in his short hair, pulling and scratching his scalp. Bucky hummed. The vibrations and the graze of his teeth made you hiss, your body was trashing beneath his strong one.
Bucky pulled back with a ‘pop’, licking his lips, his fingers toyed with your other nipple. “How are you feelin’, love?” He asked. You panted lightly as you gave him thumbs up but yelped again when he pinched your nipple. “Words,” he growled. “I told you to use them.”
“’m good,” you whimpered, nipple throbbing deliciously. “’m good, I swear, ‘m fine, alpha.” Bucky hummed at the name. He always liked being called ‘alpha’ during sex before, he was never shy to tell his partners to call him that when he wanted to end his dancing night with someone, but hearing you call him that was turning him on in a whole different level.
Growling approvingly to himself, Bucky’s fingers found the hem of your panties. Before he could ask for permission, you lifted your hips to help him remove them easily. Bucky took a hold of the flimsy fabric, quickly dragging it down your beautiful legs, he threw them somewhere in the room. You were now under him with all your naked fucking glory, and Bucky’s mouth was watering at the sight of you. His gums were hurting with the desire to claim and mark you.
“You are gorgeous, baby,” Bucky murmured, fingers trailing over your soft skin and making you shiver happily. He leaned in. His light stubble rasped against your nipple as he nosed your collarbone, licking and sucking small marks there. You sighed. Your hands were buried deep in his short hair, the fluffiness of it turning into a messy state. “You feel so good against me,” he murmured again, lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your breasts. You whimpered. The ache between your legs was getting intolerable with each passing second, and you wanted him to take you already.
“Bucky…” You breathed. “Please, Bucky, alpha, I-I can’t, it h-hurts,” you babbled, hands now clawing his strong and wide shoulders. Quickly, Bucky shushed you with kisses, murmured filthy nonsense into your ear as he trailed one hand down your front. You gasped when his fingers brushed against your clit. It was already so sensitive and throbbing and aching─
“So wet,” Bucky whispered. “I’m gonna taste it later.” He brushed his fingers up and down for a couple times and pulled his hand back. “Now, we make your hurting stop, love.” You nodded. Your eyes were half-closed, you looked debauched without Bucky doing anything properly yet, and more importantly you looked drunk with only a couple kisses and touching from him.
If that ain’t the best kind of ego boost, I don’t know what is, Bucky thought to himself as he bit his lip and removed his clothes. Your sweet heat scent was filling his lungs and the room, and making him feel lightheaded. His skin was prickling with the intensity of your scent. He knew very well no matter how many times he’d shower that he would be smelling like you even days after your heat ended. Honestly, that would be a dream come true for Bucky.
His crush on you was getting stronger rather than dying down. He had tried dating with other people, hooking up or just spend his rut with at least a partner, but he just couldn’t because his body was yearning yours. His lungs were desperate for your sweet, calming scent filling them, his fingers were itching to feel your skin, and his lips were tingling to meet with yours… His whole body had been wanting you, no one else had made him feel this way before.
“God, Y/N,” Bucky breathed. His eyes were now fully black, face darkened with lust and his body heat had increased. He was about to enter his rut, he knew it. Bucky leaned forward and licked a fat line from your collarbone to all the way up to your ear, making your bonding glands throb. You gasped at the feeling.
“Fuck, Bucky!” You sighed, eyes screwed shut. Bucky hummed. His fingers moved south, were quick to find your dripping and aching core, he slipped two of his fingers in you. You moaned. His fingers were moving in and out of you rapidly, thumb pressing lightly on your clit. He could feel the poor thing throb beneath his fingertip, Bucky chuckled against your throat and nipped the skin there. You moaned one more time, but louder, your nails dug them deep into Bucky’s meaty shoulders. Bucky hissed at the slight pain, but all the pain during sex was welcomed in his book.
Bucky pulled his fingers out and pushed off of you, ignoring your little whines. “Present,” he ordered, his voice was still soft even though his commanding tone. Whimpering, you flipped onto your tummy, pressed your chest against the soft linens beneath you and lifted your ass high up on the air. Bucky groaned. “Damn, kitten,” he whispered. You shivered. He placed his hands on your ass, and then moved them up, up, up and slid one of them into your hair. “Do I need a condom?” You nodded.
“Birth control is no good for me,” you panted lightly. Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss on your cheek, he leaned sideways to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. You rubbed your face, wiggled your hips and fisted the bedding as Bucky put on the condom. As soon as he was done, he walked closer to you on his knees and immediately draped his body onto yours. You sighed at the skin-to-skin contact.
“Tell me if you want to or need me to stop because you don’t like what we’re doing, alright?” Bucky murmured. You nodded.
“I will,” you slurred slightly and earned another kiss on your cheek. You hummed happily. You felt the blunt tip of his cock against your wet folds and held your breath. With a smooth, slow thrust of his hips, Bucky slid into you. “Fuuuck,” you sighed, eyes closed and mouth open, drooling just a little bit. The ache in your core was disappeared as soon as Bucky filled you up.
“Goddamn,” Bucky gritted. Your pussy was hugging his hard as hell cock so nicely, Bucky felt like he was being wrapped with the softest blankets to ever exist. Falling onto his elbows, Bucky placed kisses on your bare shoulders. He moved his arms carefully and wrapped them around your torso. One of his hands was wrapped lightly around your neck, and you felt another flame taking over your body with the feeling.
“Move,” you whispered. “Alpha, please, move.” Bucky shushed you gently. Never stopping peppering kisses on your shoulder, neck and cheek, Bucky moved his hips slowly at first. You gasped, head thrown back on Bucky’s shoulder, you closed your eyes.
Your mind was fogged, body wrung tight with sexual frustration and the coil in your belly was burning hotter each passing second. You could feel your heat taking over your body. Bucky’s strong scent was covered with the traces of faint rut, and his scent was clogging up all your senses.
It felt magnificent.
“Alpha,” you moaned when his cock touched a spot in you, your body suddenly waking up. Bucky grunted. His rut was making him a little non-verbal, but he was okay with it. “Faster,” you whimpered. “Faster, harder, alpha, fuck!” The breath knocked out of your lungs with Bucky’s hard thrust.
Grunting and rumbling deep in his chest, Bucky started slamming into you. Your slick was now covering his inner thighs and groin, making these obscene sounds to echo in your room and your skin to stuck each other whenever Bucky’s pelvis kissed yours. You whimpered. Your body was both loosening up and tightening even more as Bucky’s thrusts became harder and deeper. Your body was melting under his, muscles were getting lax because of the rut scent and soft rumbles Bucky was occasionally letting out.
“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, nose poking your bonding glands. “You smell so good, omega,” he murmured, and you shuddered under him. Bucky chuckled darkly. His hot breath licked over your pulse. His short fangs grazed over the sensitive skin, tongue poking out to lick and suck as his pace turned into even something more feral. The sound of skin slapping skin was so loud, you were deafened by it.
You whimpered when you felt his teeth again. You had no fear of Bucky mating you, you knew him enough to know that he wouldn’t do that, but feeling him dragging his fangs up and down like that on your bonding glands was incredibly turning you on. You grabbed onto his arms when he slightly straightened up so that he could drive in you deeper.
“Shit,” you gasped. Bucky growled. His arms around your neck tightened its hold a bit, enough to make you feel every drag of oxygen. “Fuck, Bucky─” His cock was driving in and out of you at a mad pace, balls slapping against your clit and obscene sounds of your wet pussy was driving you even crazier.
With a snarl, Bucky pulled you up against him, flipping you on your back in a matter of seconds. When he slid into your once again, you felt the bulge of his knot at the base of his cock. You gasped, looking down, your mouth hung open on its own. Bucky chuckled.
“That mouth of yours is hungry, ain’t it?” He asked, a filthy smirk on his face. You tried to swallow the spit, but he didn’t let you. He stuffed three of his metal fingers into your mouth. “Suck on’em, honey,” he ordered lovingly. You moaned as you did what you were being told and felt his pace falter for a second. “Fuck.” You hummed around his fingers. His rut scent getting stronger, covering your body, your bed and leaving its mark deep into your bones, you felt like a cat under the sun.
Bucky placed his flesh hand on your pussy. His hips were moving with a rapid pace, your fluids were mixing with his. His thumb found your clit and started to play with it. You cried out. your back arching, you moaned around his fingers, your pussy tightening on his cock. Bucky gasped and grunted. His balls were hurting because of how full they were.
“Come for me,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ come for me, omega,” his harsh whispering voice commanded. You felt your eyes roll back as the pleasure and blinding orgasm took over your body. Bucky cursed as he felt your mouth watering even more around his fingers, pussy walls clamping on his cock and knot. Gasping, Bucky leaned in and pulled his fingers out your mouth so that he could kiss you. Bucky was so close, so fucking close─
“Mmm,” you hummed into his kiss. “C’me f’r me, alpha,” you murmured, placing sloppy kisses on his mouth. “C’mon, breed me, fill me up, make a mess─”
Groaning loudly, Bucky slammed forward one last time before he felt his knot popped. His balls seized so hard, Bucky let out a wounded sound. You shushed him. Placing your hands on his face, you kissed him. He sighed into the kiss as he thrusted in and out of you slowly, fucking his come deeper into you.
“Fuck, honey,” Bucky breathed out when the intense part of his orgasm washed away. You smiled, kissing him again. Bucky kissed you back soundly. “Damn, I’ve never come that hard before,” he said, chuckling.
“Good,” you said. Your scent flaring up with smugness, Bucky laughed.
“Yeah, alright, you’re possessive,” he said with a smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up and ducked your head. Bucky continued to smile but couldn’t stop himself from leaning down for another kiss.
After a couple minutes of lazy make-out, Bucky carefully re-arranged your positions so that he could cuddle you without crushing you. You lay like that in silence, feeling content. Your heat and his rut had diminished for the time being, giving you some time to recover. You were playing with his metal hand when the thought struck you.
“Hey,” you murmured, and Bucky hummed as an answer. “What did she say?” You asked him. He made a confused sound.
“Who? About what?”
“You sent me a picture last night and said you were chickening out because she was real nice and you don’t wanna fuck it up,” you explained, a little bit jealousy slipping into your scent. “Did you send her the picture? What did she say?” You felt him freeze momentarily, but then he let out a small chuckle.
“I sent it, yes,” he said. “She said that I look damn good and that I can’t fuck this thing up, not with that picture, and that I’m cute and she’ll understand why I sent it.”
“It was intentional,” you murmured. Bucky hummed in approval, kissing your shoulder and tightening his arms around you. “You asshole,” you shrieked, hitting his arm. “You could have just come to me!” Bucky laughed as you hit him again.
“I’m sorry!” He said. “I actually didn’t mean to send you that picture, I swear. I hit send accidentally, but I also said ‘might as well’ afterwards, so,” he murmured, shrugging.
“God, I can’t believe this,” you grumbled. Bucky nuzzled your neck. “I couldn’t sleep last night because of that picture,” you admitted.
Bucky frowned. “Why?”
“I was horny, Bucky,” you said. Bucky let out a loud laugh.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, but you knew he wasn’t sorry at all.
“No, you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, pouting at the same time.
“No, I’m not,” he agreed, slowly moving on top of you. “I can make it up, though…” Kissing your cheek, he poked your nose with his playfully. “You said you were horny, right? How about I do something about that?” You smirked.
“I’m in heat, Barnes,” you said. “You better make it up to me.” Bucky smirked right back at you.
“Your wish is my command, m’Queen,” he said, sweeping you into a passionate kiss.
tell me what you think please!!
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you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer
characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto
genre: fluff. very slight angst.
word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character
warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)
author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)
he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.
it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.
and he absolutely won’t stand for it.
he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.
your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.
you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?
that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.
at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.
you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.
“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.
you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.
“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”
“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.
on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.
meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.
surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.
in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.
just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.
“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.
the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”
“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”
again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.
when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.
oh. they’re love letters.
“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.
sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.
yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?
you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.
he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.
kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.
“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”
taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.
“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”
smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”
you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.
“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.
the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.
“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”
the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.
“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”
“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.
as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.
“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.
“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.
“oh, that’s cool.”
you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.
you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.
little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.
to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.
after all, that’s what a true man would do!
but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.
“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.
“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”
“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.
you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.
the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.
kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.
he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.
“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”
you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.
“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”
kirishima nods slowly.
“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”
hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.
you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.
“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”
as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.
midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.
he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.
“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.
“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.
when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.
“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.
“g-good morning, y/n…”
it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.
throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.
“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”
he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.
“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”
he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”
your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”
midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.
you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.
“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”
at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.
“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.
“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.
“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.
she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”
“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.
though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.
your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.
his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.
“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”
the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”
kaminari whistles at his confidence.
shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.
in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.
what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?
shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.
you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.
however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.
so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.
he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.
lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.
little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.
“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”
the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.
“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.
“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.
“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.
“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.
“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”
it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.
todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.
in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.
when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.
but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.
he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.
“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”
“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.
you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.
you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.
watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.
todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.
“ready to head home?”
a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.
during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.
usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.
as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.
that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.
“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.
todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”
“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”
you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”
now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.
“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.
this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.
“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.
at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.
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sweet lies [03.final]
His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.
cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst
note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.
series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03
It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.
Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.
It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.
You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.
With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.
“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.
He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.
You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.
Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.
“Why have you been ghosting me?”
“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”
“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”
“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”
“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”
You pretend to think about it.
That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.
In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.
Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.
“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”
“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”
You’re not surprised he left afterwards.
But are you hurt? Most definitely so.
Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.
You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!
Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.
It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.
And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.
He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.
You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.
And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.
You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”
At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.
“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”
“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”
From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.
However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.
I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”
“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face. “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”
“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”
Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.
When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.
Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”
In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?
Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”
“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”
Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”
“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”
“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”
With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.
You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.
The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.
Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?
It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.
You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”
You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.
After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.
He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.
Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.
You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”
Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”
Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.
Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.
Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.
“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”
You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.
Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.
It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.
They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.
Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.
Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”
You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”
“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”
“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.
“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”
“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”
“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”
Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.
Just one last time.
“Megs, your turn.”
Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.
“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”
Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.
Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”
You don’t think twice.
You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.
It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.
But what about your feelings?
Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?
Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.
He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”
“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”
From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”
“No, I just…I want to go home.”
“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”
You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.
Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?
Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.
“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”
“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”
“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”
You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.
“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”
“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.
“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”
“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.
You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.
The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.
That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.
You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.
Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.
“So…do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”
“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”
“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”
At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.
“What position do you want?”
“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.
“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.
“You’ll still go back to him after this?”
“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.
“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”
He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.
“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”
“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”
His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”
“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”
You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”
“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”
“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.
“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”
“Because you still like him or…?”
“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”
“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”
The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.
“You sure about that?”
“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”
“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.
“You’re challenging me?”
“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”
“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.
You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”
Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.
“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”
“He ever ate you out this way?”
“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”
“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.
“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”
“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”
“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”
Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”
Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.
“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”
“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”
“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”
“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.
His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.
Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”
Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”
“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”
“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.
“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”
“I think you got enough milk.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”
“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”
“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”
“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”
“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”
The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.
You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”
“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”
“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”
“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”
“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”
You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”
“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.
“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”
“You’re really confident, huh?”
“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”
“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”
“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”
Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.
taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan @ggsmashgg @dora-the-grownup @ninefuckingoneone @ambiguous-something
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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.
The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.
I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.
Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.
10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.
From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.
Or while it was still bleeding.
If she was into that.
Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.
Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.
And he always gets his due.
He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.
Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~
Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.
Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.
This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.
Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?
Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.
Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.
What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.
Mortesha would know.
The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.
Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.
Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.
Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!
Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.
Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.
I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.
Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.
She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.
Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.
Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.
That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.
Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.
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extra help | gojo satoru
what’s a teacher to do when his student is building up so much cursed energy? help her get it under control, of course.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
warnings: smut, 18+ (minors dni), teacher/student relations (reader is of age), fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, unprotected sex (do not do this), lowkey corruption, squirting, exhibitionism (?), creampie, gojo refers to himself as “teacher” because i said so
note: barely edited, something to ease the brainrot. gojo satoru hollow me challenge.
“Can you maybe, I don’t know, shut the fuck up?”
The jab spews out of your mouth before you can stop it. Your filter is long gone, the thoughts that pop into your head forming into verbal words without the chance to even process them. Once you hear it, you mentally slap yourself. Now you just look like an asshole.
“Jeez, no need to be a bitch about it,” mutters Nobara. She rests on the concrete steps on her elbows, appearing utterly disinterested with her head tossed back and eyes closed, soaking in the fresh air.
“I’m not being a bitch.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You kind of are,” Megumi says quietly, shrugging slightly when your incredulous expression finds his to be stoic and unmoving. He leans down to scratch behind one of his dog’s ears. His nonchalance boils your blood even further, effectively working you up past your melting point. A bitter laugh leaves your mouth.
“Good morning, everybody!”
You sigh, lips hanging open with the rest of your insult frozen where it was interrupted. From over the small hill behind you, Gojo Satoru greets everyone with a bright energy you aren’t capable of returning this early in the day.
You try your best to shake it off. The other students wave back happily as you sulk, aimlessly stretching your arms over your head in an attempt to push out the thousand things running through your mind, not one of which you’re capable of dealing with.
And maybe it is a good morning - the sun is out, the air is cool, there’s not a breeze passing by to mess up your hair. It’s a lovely day to be training. Megumi has been walking his dogs around the field, Yuuji has been racing himself from one end to the other, meanwhile the others take turns sparring. The springtime weather is rewarding, which is why it’s such a shame you can’t enjoy it.
Gojo reaches up a hand to lift one side of his blindfold. Though he’s standing all the way over on the steps, you can see his eyes clearly, crystalline blue and staring with scrutiny. The man leans forward into his gaze, and the way he’s inspecting you soon irritates you further.
“What’s with all the cursed energy?” he asks, letting his blindfold fall over his eye again.
Yuuji perks up at the comment from where he’s been sitting after his run, pulling out blades of grass between his fingertips. “So it’s not just me?” he pipes up, pushing himself up to his feet. He seems relieved, turning his attention to you. “I thought maybe you just had a bad day but it seems like it’s seeping off you all the time now.”
Your lips press into a thin line as your eyelids droop in annoyance, trying to think up a reasonable answer quick. Unfortunately, you don’t get the time to do so.
“I don’t need to see it to feel it,” Maki adds. She finishes tying up her laces, objectivity unmoving with the deadpan spreading across your features. Your jaw tenses. “Didn’t want to say anything in case it would make you angrier.”
“Too late!” you snap, huffing as you place your arms over your chest. The number of eyes on you has your cheeks burning, and paired with your current vexation, makes you feel even worse.
“Well, what are you angry about?” Yuuji asks.
“I’m not angry about anything.”
“That sounds a little defensive,” Gojo comments.
“You seem frustrated, that’s all.” Yuuji looks at you with a genuine curiosity that makes it hard to be mad at him. His doe eyes couldn’t possibly imagine what the real issue at hand is.
“Yeah, she’s frustrated all right,” Nobara juts in. Her tone is whiney and annoyed, and you hope the glare you send her will shut her up, but she acts as if she doesn’t see it, only looking down at her nails in distaste. Then comes the zinger. “It’s because she hasn’t gotten laid in months.”
“That is not true!” you yell, but the obvious rage bubbling out of you gives it away.
“Cursed energy can build from that?”
“It would explain a lot.”
“That sounds definitely defensive.”
“Shut up!” you shout, throwing your hands over your face to hide your cheeks burning in embarrassment. Then you’re sitting back on the field, hanging your head low over your knees. Quietly, you mutter, “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
The walk here had been nerve wracking enough. Your heart had been stuck in your throat since the track this morning, if not from the sheer embarrassment of Nobara telling everyone you were sexually frustrated, then surely from the way Gojo had asked you to meet with him later in an old classroom rather seriously before walking off.
It scared you half to death upon hearing it, and just thinking about it scared the other half, so you’re hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The others comments hadn’t helped either, teasing about the frightening methods he’d use to dispel the energy, or how he’d berate you for being so stupid, or whatever else the maniac of a man had to offer.
Gojo leans back lazily in his chair, long legs thrown over the desk for his comfort and leisure. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan with his arms straightened behind his head as you close the door behind you.
“About time you got here. Been waiting forever.”
The lights are off, but evening sun pours in through the wall of windows that look out over the courtyard to brighten the room. He tosses a small apple plush above him with a smooth flick of his wrist, catching it on its down arc with ease. It looks like a marble with how it sits in his massive palms.
“Well, this wing is on the other side of campus,” you swallow, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly. That reminds you...“Why are we this far, anyway?”
He sighs, placing the toy back down at the top of his desk and resting his chin on his palm. You can feel his eyes on you through his blindfold. “To solve your problem, of course.”
“My… my problem? No, I don’t have any problems,” you say with a shake of your head as genuine as you can muster, a nervous smile flashing across your expression as he stands. His hand trails along the desk as he moves around it. When you get the feeling he doesn’t believe you, you start again, “If it’s about what Nobara said, it’s really no big deal-”
“While you’re a talented sorcerer, you’re not a very good liar.” He comes to a stop in front of you, towering over your small frame. His head is turned down toward you but you refrain from making eye contact. Trying to maintain your composure, you look straight into his chest and then avert your eyes to the sid, looking anywhere else in the room but him - the chalkboard, the windows, the posters on the wall - that is, until he takes your chin in his hand and tugs your face up to look at him directly.
He’s taken off his blindfold, the black cloth crumpled in his palm and already tossed to the floor.
The way you’re staring at him, that desire that lies just below the fear, has his dick tenting in his pants. When he focuses, he can see the cursed energy radiating from your body, dark and cloudy as it surrounds you. “Yuuji’s right, it’s practically seeping from you,” he coos, eyebrows drawn together in concern.
He drinks in your apprehension with a sadistic sort of delight, and you don’t miss the feel of his eyes as they trace down your body. “My student is struggling,” he says tenderly, tapping his index finger along your cheek lightly. “What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t help?”
He eats up the way you look at him, swept away and hazy, your brain turning to mush at the sound of his voice. Heat pools in your panties, and the subtle manner in which your thighs shift against each other is not lost on him.
The tension in the air is electrifying. Leaning down to your ear, he says what’s been on his mind for weeks. “Don’t think I can’t hear you at night, touching yourself, trying so hard to make it go away on your own.”
His words leave your throat dry and stomach churning. Your face burns, thinking of him listening to your pitiful attempts to get off. Clearly, the sleepless nights of trying to cum, letting slip the small whimpers you couldn’t care to hold back, hands buried in your panties and writhing in your bed sheets, were no secret to anyone but you.
You’re almost mortified. You would be, if it wasn’t for your hot teacher standing in front of you, smiling as he remembers how pretty you sounded, offering to fuck the shit out of you to sate your frustration.
And god, just how pretty you sound. He’d never admit it sober, but the times he’s taken “random” late night walks around the buildings that have ended up at the outside of your bedroom door are far too many to count. Palming himself through his trousers, panting as he pictures you just through the slab of wood exactly how he plans on having you now.
“I...I don’t know if we should be doing this,” you mumble in a moment of clarity, gaze flickering to the window in the door that lets you see into the empty hallway just outside. Swallowing hard, scenarios of your classmates walking by, peering through, clouds your head. “What if someone…”
“They’re on the other side of campus, remember?” he teases. His fingers slide back along your jaw, brushing your hair from your forehead before settling to cup the side of your face. “You can make all the noise you want out here.”
Heat spreads through your core and inner thighs accompanied by a visible shiver, a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The proximity alone is making you wet. His presence is overwhelming with the unimaginable power he holds over you.
His neck tilts down to reach you, hovering with his lips not a breath away from yours. Gojo waits. Tentative, you press your mouth to his and your eyes flutter shut, feeling him smile as his hands make contact with your hips. He’s gentle and slow, his lips pillowy and soft against yours, moving carefully as if not to scare you away.
He muffles a timid whimper with his mouth and takes the lead, kissing you harder and pulling you into a firm lip lock before spinning you around and walking you backwards toward the desk. Hesitant hands reach up to his shoulders, something Gojo senses immediately, shy hands working up the confidence to splay over his broad shoulders. He knows you so well by now - there’s a reason you’re his favorite student.
“Let me help, princess,” he insists, breaking away to quell your uncertainty. “You know I’m the only one who can.” Gojo’s voice is hypnotizing, his promises filling your head with a desiring haze.
Your tiny, timid fingers hanging around his neck, crawling up his nape as if searching for safety, have him reeling. He might just devour you, so cute and innocent and willing in front of him.
You’re melting into his touch as his hands squeeze your hips, rubbing up your sides until they lay a firm grasp on your hips, sitting you fully on the desk. His touch is teasing and featherlight as he drags it up your calves, hiking up your skirt to get where he wants to be, situated right between your thighs.
“None of the other guys fuck you the way you need to be fucked, right?”
He may be cocky, but it’s for good reason.
Gojo Satoru is older, he’s experienced, he knows what he’s doing. He knows you, in fact, more than you think. Don’t be fooled - he sees you sneaking off campus, sees the texts you send to the boys in the nearest town, overhears how you talk to them over the phone when you think no one is listening. He also sees how disappointed you look every time you return from one of your escapades.
You’re mature for your age, but no one is willing to fuck you like it. Except him, of course.
A large hand cradles the back of your head to keep kissing you. His mouth is ravishing, absolutely eating up the feeble mewls that escape you. Deft fingers unbutton your uniform with ease and slip it down your shoulders to reveal your chest as if he’s done it a thousand times.
He moves to unclasp your bra, but is surprised to meet your bare skin. He pulls back from your mouth to meet your eyes, and you already know what he’s thinking with the way he looks down at you, head tilted back with a dark mirth.
“No bra?” he inquires, rolling your perky buds between his fingers, and your lack of verbal response, that guilt in the slight raise of your eyebrows, tells him everything he needs to know. “Naughty girl. Makes me think you were expecting this.” He makes you purr like a kitten, free hand kneading at your chest, coaxing out sweet little noises that make his dick throb in his pants.
You inhale sharply at a particular tweak of your nipple that has your body tingling, arching into him. “Sir, I-”
His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot below your ear, just next to your jaw. The feel of his teeth gently scraping down sends chills through your shoulders and down your back, subconsciously tilting your head to the side and exposing more to him, inviting him to your body even further.
“It’s okay, you can tell me how bad you need my cock,” he says against your skin.
Your body flushes hot beneath him. A hand cups your clothed core. The friction has your hips lifting in desperate motions for more, pushing against his fingers for some kind of relief.
“Poor thing, too horny for your own good,” he says, peering down at you. He tugs at the tiny, delicate bow sewn into the lace band of your panties, a smug expression passing over his features. “But don’t worry, teacher’s here to make you feel better.”
He hooks his pointer finger underneath the center of your panties and pulls it up, forcing the fabric taught against your slit between your folds, urging a cry to fall from your lips. You’re absolutely aching for more, pussy desperate for contact as your hips buck. His opposite thumb goes straight to your swollen clit where it bulges through the thin cotton, reducing you to whines as he applies light pressure.
“So sensitive,” he says with a teasing lilt in his tone, caught between looking at your pussy and your dazed expression. “You want my fingers?”
He knows he’s supposed to be helping you, but he can’t stop himself with how cute you look like this. He’s already thinking of just how far he can push you, just what he can get you to admit to him.
“Yes, please,” you’re begging, pulling your lips under your teeth, and how can he say no? He has no other choice but to indulge you.
He pulls your panties to the side and finally, his long, thick fingers sink inside you without warning, pushing a lewd moan from your throat.
He groans at the way you pulse around his digits. Your walls suck him right in. “Fuck, look at your pretty little cunt. Feels good, huh?”
Your mouth falls open as you nod, staring at him through half-mast, glassy eyes. Light amusement covers his face as he works your walls diligently, curling up and massaging that spongy spot he knows you like from the sounds you’re making.
“Yeah, I know it does. Need it so bad, don’t you?”
“Yes, ah, need it so much,” you whine. At this point, you’d follow his every command, answer his every question, if it means he’ll keep doing what he’s doing. He connects his lips to yours again, swallowing up the noises that leave your throat, before moving down. He trails his mouth over your sensitive, flushed skin, burning to the touch as he leaves harsh, bruising marks behind. He’s kneeling down and throwing your legs over his shoulders without hesitation.
He has you desperate and shameless with how he’s making you feel. It doesn’t matter that he’s your teacher, it doesn’t matter that you’ll have to face him in class after the fact, all that matters is how hot and aching your core is, how bad you need him there to fix it. “More, sir, p-please.”
He groans at the name you’ve given him, that you’re addressing him by so earnestly. He never even asked you to, so when it spills out of your mouth so submissively, he can’t help the way it goes straight to his cock. “So polite, aren’t you? Let me hear you, be specific.”
His fingers leave you clenching around nothing as he pulls them out of you, watching the string of slick stretch until it breaks. He slips them right into his mouth, licking your arousal off of his fingers, humming in delight.
You’re fixated on his glossy, wet lips, entranced by the slight smile to his words. “Please, your mouth,” you plead breathlessly through a gulp.
He presses a chaste kiss to the plush of your thigh, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His lips ghost over the tops of your knee socks and nip at the slight pudge that squeezes out.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs. Then, he’s diving in, latching his warm, wet mouth onto your pussy. You feel yourself gush under his lips as his tongue laves harsh strokes against your entrance. He has you quivering, your hips moving on their own accord over his face.
You squirm under his relentless tongue, swiping through your slick and spreading it all over your inner thighs. He laps at your fluttering hole before suckling your clit into his mouth, hot tongue flicking over it before releasing with a playful pop.
He thrives off of the whimpers leaving your mouth. A loud moan tears from you as his fingers plunge into you again, hands shooting to his snowy locks to ground yourself. You’re throwing your head back, keening in the firm grip he has pushing back your leg, his tongue swiping at you expertly while the pads of his fingers curl up into the spot you need him at, keeping his head pressed tight to your drooling cunt.
Pointed flicks of his tongue target your clit, puffy and sensitive, and you can’t help the way your hips buck up for more, babbling nonsense. His firm muscle prods at your hole before flattening and licking wide and short strokes up your folds.
“Aw, you wanna cum, don’t you? Gonna cum for me like a good girl?”
You only have the strength to nod, eyes squeezing shut and your lips parted in choked breaths.
“Look at me,” he commands sternly, and your lids are prying open immediately, struggling to keep your gaze on him with the pleasure he’s relentlessly forcing on your body. His plump lips are lustrous with your arousal. “Go ahead. Cum.”
His eyes bore into you as your face contorts, body tensing all over as you tip over the edge. That coil in your stomach which Gojo has so masterfully built snaps like a rubber band, shattering your mind as pleasure ripples through your body. You’re still as your release surges through you, making him moan against your pussy.
“That’s it, there you go,” he says with a growl as you take your first breath after the inhibiting pleasure fades, eyes darkening as he watches you, keeping pressure on your nub with his thumb, smooth strokes working you through your high.
He carefully helps you drop to your feet, rubbing soothing circles into your hips, planting kisses to your temples before spinning you around to face the desk. You’re wobbly, but it’s nothing he can’t compensate for with his natural strength.
“Gonna take such good care of you,” he mumbles, large hands exploring the expanse of your back. He pushes you down, gentle fingers trailing up your spine until they find their hold on your hips like they were meant to be, loving how pliant you are beneath him.
The anticipation has you dripping, heart pounding as he flips up your skirt again, pussy aching to be filled. You hear the tugging of his trousers down to the floor, and a hefty exhale as he gives himself a few strokes in his palm.
His cock, hot and heavy and hard, presses into you slowly. You feel his girth immediately, cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate his size. It’s instant relief, finally the pleasure you’ve been desperate for, a drug you have to be careful of or you might just get addicted.
“Fuck,” he groans lowly, “So fuckin’ tight for me.”
You’re stuffed to the brim, focusing on how full you are, his fingers massaging the flesh of your ass as he gives you a moment to adjust. He feels his self-restraint thinning as you squeeze him. He’s gonna make you drool for him, make his cute innocent student into his little whore, make sure teacher’s the only one who touches you like this.
At first, his pace is slow and steady, sensual pumps that expertly drag against your gummy walls. You can feel his tip spreading you open, every burning curve and vein and ridge of his head as your pussy molds to him. But once your legs start shifting back for more, he speeds up the rocking of his hips, fucking you brainless on his cock.
“How we feeling, princess?” he pants. He’s the only thing you can think about, mind scrambled from the white hot feel of being fucked so well.
He doesn’t have to ask to know - the string of heedless whimpers that you make are evidence enough, on top of the obscene squelches that echo every time he pounds into your sopping cunt. He pulls your wrists back from where they cling to the desk, white knuckled, to your sides. A strong arm snakes around your front, pinning your arms and waist close to his chest, caging you in while the other seeks purchase on your breast.
“F-Fuck, I- ah - so good, sir,” you sob, feeling your brain blank with the way his grip moves up to your neck, expertly pushing into the sides to cut off your blood flow. It’s dizzying, your pussy tightening around him for more.
And then he stops.
You’re about to whine, your walls fluttering around him, begging him to move, when his hand reaches to cover your mouth. He shushes you gently, snapping quietly towards the door.
Someone is calling your name outside. “Hellooo? Hey Y/N, you over here?” It’s Yuuji, pacing the upper floor, walking straight down the hall and soon to pass the very door.
Your heart jolts in panic - why would he come looking for you? Why would anyone? The whole point of being out here was so that no one would come, right?
“Sorry to go back on my word, princess,” Gojo whispers. A wave of his hand creates a small masking barrier in front of the window, but it does nothing to hide the sound. “Gonna have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”
You nod your head, wiggling back against his hips pressed hard and unmoving to your ass. He pulls out slow and thrusts back, mindful of the noise of contact. It takes all your focus to bite back your moans.
“Don’t want your classmates seeing how slutty you are for a good fuck, do you? What if they walked in, saw you like this on your teacher’s cock?”
The thought has your hole constricting his length. You can already envision Yuuji’s shocked expression as he stares you down, his respected senior, nothing more than a babbling mess as Gojo Satoru fucks you raw in an empty classroom. The man behind you holds back a laugh.
The footsteps pass without the hint of something much filthier than extra help transpiring beyond the thin walls. You think you might have even seen a tuft of pink hair whizz by in the corner of your vision - whatever the matter, he’s gone, and you can finally catch your breath.
“Dirty girl,” Gojo rasps from behind you, slamming into you roughly, a sinister smile tugging at the corners of his lips while his fingers force themselves into your mouth, “you - hah - you fucking love it.”
That spring in the base of your tummy starts to coil taut, rising faster than ever. “Love it,” you choke, stimulated tears forming at your lash line, “love it so much!”
His pace is relentless, your slick gushing all around him. He’s building you up just to break you down, the only one who can help you take the edge off.
“Tell me what you want,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’ll give it to you.”
Holding you tight to his chest with locked arms, he completely covers your body with his tall stature, inescapable and confining.
“Fuck, wanna - wanna cum so bad, so bad, sir.”
His large hand trails its way over your waist, soft fingers moving down, down, until they slip right over that little sensitive bundle at your front, cool and wet, that has your breath catching audibly in your throat.
Gojo places his mouth just behind your ear, tone soft and sultry. The pad of his index finger rubs firm circles over your swollen, aching clit. It elicits a filthy sound from you that makes his cock twitch inside you. “Right there, huh?” He feels you clench as your legs tremble beneath him.
Your climax crashes over you in hot, unforgiving waves, tightening your walls and creaming all over every inch of his length. “Come on, give it all to teacher,” he encourages through heavy pants, making your skin prickle, and it’s just what you need. A chorus of loud, high pitched, breathless moans tumbles from your mouth as you ride it out.
You’re drenching his fingers, making a mess as your squirt drips down and coats his cock, making him growl into your hair. He coaches you through it, stringing out his praises, “Just like that, mhm, good girl.”
His eyes fall shut as your cunt suffocates his cock, feeling his hips stutter as you suck him in. With a guttural, hungry groan, he’s burying his load in your waiting hole. He snaps against you once, twice more, hard and quick as he starts to come down.
A moment passes to catch your breaths, heartbeats beginning to slow in tandem. Gojo nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and sighs before placing an affectionate kiss there.
Your legs are jelly beneath you so he’s careful when he releases his grasp, slowly turning you around to face him and sit back on the desk.
“You alright?” he asks, wiping away the wetness under your eyes.
It’s safe to say that you’re relieved, in more ways than one. Your shoulders feel lighter and as does your chest, like everything you’ve been shackled to has been lifted off with a good fuck.
“Yeah, much better.” There’s a tired grin to your words.
He wipes away the sheen of sweat that has collected on his hairline and reaches over you to grab a few tissues off the desk. He’s gentle as he cleans you up, dabbing up sweat and cum from where it drips down your thighs.
“You should get some rest. I’ll get you out of class tomorrow morning if you need it. Make up an excuse or something.” He pulls up his own trousers and helps you button up your top again, then lowering you back to the floor so you can be on your way.
“Let me know if you ever need any more assistance,” he winks, patting the top of your head. He smooths down a few stray hairs, putting you back together in at least a somewhat presentable way. “My help is always available to students that need it.”
Because while all that cursed energy may be under control, your relations are far from over.
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