#accidental voyeurism

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

Batman's reputation takes a bit of a hit when he's spotted being kissed stupid and pushed around by Some Guy™ (Clark)

Meanwhile, Clark suddenly has a more street cred than he knows what to do with.

#writing inspiration #writing prompt #dcu #bruce wayne #dc universe #batman #clark kent #superman #superbat #accidental voyeurism #whoever caught them did not expect that for sure #the jl probably tease them relentlessly

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 4: a reflection in another's eyes

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Unintentional and nonconsensual voyeurism

W/C: 2,579

A/N: Have another simply because I've been writing so prolifically!

Astarion spent the better part of the day curled up in his tent with all of his belongings. He figured that if anyone else were to come looking for him, it’d be best if he didn’t have any obvious indications of his whereabouts on display. For as much as he wanted to bask in the sunshine like a lazy cat, it seemed safer to stay huddled in the cramped shadows of his tent, surrounded by all of the pilfered trinkets he associated with his freedom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to call his own, and each item, no matter its usefulness or lack thereof, had earned a sentimental place in his undead heart.

As the light shifted toward dusk, his mind grew restless and he felt suffocated by the heat and darkness of the small space. He crawled to the mouth of the tent and hesitantly lifted one of the flaps to peer out. His eyes quickly found Karlach and Shadowheart preparing the fire, but saw no sign of the morning’s adventuring party. He exhaled slowly through his nose and stood, gathering his things and tenderly placing them outside once more. 

He caught the curious eyes of Shadowheart watching him enter and exit repeatedly and scowled menacingly at her, fighting the urge to giggle as he watched her face scrunch up in distaste. Karlach only smiled at him, nothing but kindness in her eyes, so he obliged her with his own in return.

The last rays of twilight streaked the sky by the time he finished re-orienting his belongings, and there was still no sign of the rest of the group. He became fidgety with distress at the thought of you injured or dead somewhere far from his reach, and chose not to analyze the feeling further. Surely, you were fine. Surely the other three had kept you safe, so that you might come back and provide him with security in turn. 

He stared absently at the book in his lap, poring over the same paragraph far too many times as his agonized thoughts ran away with him. With a frustrated growl, he snapped the book shut and tossed it none too gently into his tent, snagging his toiletries off the little table next to him and stalking away from camp to the riverbank nearby. He hoped bathing would prove a more helpful distraction.

He shucked his clothes and swiftly waded waist-deep into the water, unaffected by the frigid temperature. He allowed his body to sink beneath the rippled surface, soaking himself from head to toe for a good wash. He worked his rosemary soap into a rich lather and scrubbed the layers of road dust from his silver hair and ivory skin until he glowed in the pale light of the moon. Deeming himself thoroughly cleansed, he dipped below the water one more time to rinse all of the suds away before making a hasty retreat to its edge. He donned his smalls in a rush, pulling his breeches on shortly after and lacing them shut.

Stepping into his camp shoes, he rubbed a spicy and citrusy oil through his curls and across the planes of his chest absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering once more. As he sucked in a breath for a heavy sigh, he caught your scent on the breeze and heard the tinkling sound of your laughter. He scrambled for his things and made a mad dash back to camp, pulling his worn, ruffled chemise over his head as he went.

Once he caught sight of you, the chilly tendrils of fear that had been slowly constricting his chest all day receded in an instant, replaced rapidly by the fuzzy warmth he’d come to associate with you - until he noticed the person opposite you. 

Gale.

He watched in abject fury as the wizard laughed at your clumsy hand gestures and repeated his motions for you, his praise at your correction driving a breathy giggle from you. Something hot and green took over him as the Weave sparkled around the two of you, the look of wondrous fascination in your eyes too much for him to bear. This was another unfamiliar feeling, one that left a vile churning in his gut and a rancid taste in his mouth. A feeling he decidedly did not like one bit, and he skulked away to his tent to avoid feeding it further.

Little good it did, for the seed of doubt had been sown.

Well enough is certainly not good enough.

He placed his toiletries back on the table outside his tent and took up the ornate silver hand mirror in their stead, ducking into the bleak darkness of his sleeping quarters. ______________________________________________________________

He heard the padding of your bare feet and the telltale swish of his tent opening before he saw you, delicate face reflected in the many fractured facets of the hand mirror.

“Looking at something?” he drawled in greeting, smirking at the surprise marring your fine features.

“How did you…?”

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition,” he answered without turning to look at you, afraid of what his expression might betray. “It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you.”

“I came looking for you when we got back, but I couldn’t find you anywhere,” you began, letting the flap of his tent fall shut.

“I had gone for a bath,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you come get me when you were done?” 

He scrutinized your face in the cracked mirror, eyes round with sadness and lips drawn in a slight frown. You wrung your hands in the muslin material of your sleep dress.

“I had every intention of inviting you for dinner when I returned, but you seemed… otherwise engaged,” he sneered, grateful you could not see his face in the reflection of the mirror.

“Ah, that. Gale was showing me how to harness the Weave without my lyre. He said I had a natural talent for the arcane arts,” you responded with a flush, arms drawn tight around your middle in defensive bashfulness.

“I think I rather prefer the magic of your music, darling,” he snarked before he could stop himself. The silence that followed was awkward at best. 

Clearing your throat, you nodded at the mirror in his hand.

“Do you miss it?”

“Do I miss what?” he snapped, mood foul and patience running thin.

“Seeing your own face,” you answered in a small voice.

He swiveled to face you, jeering, “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it.”

You remained standing just in the threshold of his tent, looking down at his no doubt disdainful expression.

“I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.” He could feel his lip curl in contempt.

“What color were they before?” you asked quietly.

He was taken aback, unable to recall the answer.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember,” he replied, voice now solemn, “My face is just some dark shape in my past.”

He was quickly overcome with white hot rage at the reminder of everything Cazador had taken from him, the memory of himself included.

“Another thing I’ve lost,” he snarled, hurling the hand mirror across the tent with unnecessary ferocity. The already-fractured surface shattered on impact, spraying shards of glass haphazardly in all directions.

You jumped back with a gasp, hand flying to grasp at your chest. He could hear the rapid, unsteady rhythm of your heart and felt a pang of remorse for startling you. He hung his head and buried his face in his hands with a groan, trembling with the rage and loathing that coursed through him.

He couldn’t hear your tentative footsteps or the soft sounds of your breath over the ringing in his ears, but he could smell you coming closer. He felt the gentle swoosh of your skirt and the impression in his bedroll as you knelt in front of him, and had to suppress a shudder when the warmth of your small hands encircled his wrists, drawing his own away from his face. Even still, he did not raise it to look at you.

You gave a little tut of disapproval, and he soon felt your calloused fingertips skate along his jawline, soft palms guiding him to meet your eyes. He watched intently as your eyes flitted over his features, drinking in the sight of him.

“What?” he rumbled.

He felt the pads of your thumbs trace gently over his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes at the feathery sensation. The warmth he associated with your presence morphed into a blazing inferno in the hollow of his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“I see you,” you breathed.

He opened his eyes to find yours heavy lidded, soft features rosy in the warm glow of the oil lamp. He could count the freckles across the bridge of your nose with your proximity, your intoxicating scent drawing him ever closer.

“And what do you see, exactly?”

“Strong, piercing eyes,” you whispered, your own flitting from one to the other of his.

“Go on…” he exhaled.

“That dangerous smile,” you replied, lips quirking up as if in example.

All I’d have to do is lean in.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a tempest of disgust and bitter hatred whirled through him, sullying the fragile moment. It was too much. Too gentle. 

More kindness than he deserved.

He reached up and grasped your wrists, not missing your shiver at his touch, though whether it was borne of the chill of his skin or the heat of your desire, he couldn’t say. All it did was fuel the maelstrom of his self-loathing. He deftly, albeit cautiously, removed your hands from his face and leaned away.

“Very good,” he purred, slipping back into the comfortable familiarity of his persona and taking control of the conversation again, “Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

The dramatic change in your expression would have been funny if it didn’t also hurt, snuffing out the fire and the warmth in one fell swoop and leaving an ache of regret in its place.

“Is that all you want? Shallow praise?” you gritted out, mouth set in a hard line.

“Hardly! There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list really,” he laughed, though it sounded false even to his ears. “But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

“I can’t believe you,” you snapped, yanking your wrists from his grip. “Would it kill you to be vulnerable?”

You sat back, swinging your legs around and pushing yourself up to stand.

“It very well could, darling,” he sniffed, turning his head in profile to regard you haughtily. 

“Go find your own dinner, Astarion,” you muttered, expression thunderous and limbs rigid with hurt and fury.

He watched as you stormed away, mind working overtime to catch up with how quickly the situation had turned south, and found himself staring at the swinging flaps of his tent for longer than he cared to admit.

For the first time in two centuries, it was not fear that kept him awake. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion surfaced from his fitful trance with a groan, blinking in the diffused glow of the oil lamp. He rolled over and pushed his tent open, surprised to find the blanket of night still stretched across the sky. He couldn’t remember how long it took to slip into his meditation, nor when it had happened, but it had been restless and plagued with the spindly remnants of memories best left forgotten.

He stretched and took a deep breath, an unnecessary but still calming practice, and weighed the benefit of slipping back into his trance against going out to hunt. He stared at the fabric ceiling swaying in the breeze for a few moments before deciding to get up. It had been a day or more since he’d last fed, and he supposed a full belly might help ease the pain of emptiness in his chest.

He slipped from his tent in silence, prowling in the direction of the forest, when he heard humming coming from the direction of the riverbank. He diverged from his original path and crept toward the sound, the haunting melody piquing his curiosity.

He smelled you before he saw you, and halted his approach in the shadow of a great oak tree close by. His skin prickled with the wariness of unanticipated voyeurism, but he could not draw himself away from the sight of you.

There you were, waist deep in the river, moonlight glistening off your bare, sudsy skin. Water ran in enticing rivulets from the ends of your hair, cutting trails through the lather in the valley of your breasts and over their soft mounds, droplets falling from the full curvature of their undersides into the rippling current swirling around you. You continued to hum your melancholy tune as you worked the fragrant floral soap through your hair.

Astarion was grateful for his lack of a pulse and need to breathe; had he been a mortal man, his regular bodily functions would have been sure to give him up. 

He watched with rapt fascination as you propped your foot up on an invisible platform, no doubt a stone beneath the water’s surface, and ran the soap up your leg in a tantalizing display, the other following suit some time after. You took your time cleansing yourself despite the obvious chill of the water, skin dimpled with gooseflesh. His darkvision allowed him to pick out the finer details of your form, finding the silvery flash of old scars in the most unlikely of places.

The pleasant warmth your beauty incited warred with the cold discomfort of his abhorrent behavior. You were sure to skin him alive if you ever found him out, but you remained blissfully unaware of his presence for the moment, content to take pleasure in the act of washing yourself. He heard you suck in a great lungful of air and the telltale plunk of you sinking beneath the water’s surface to rinse yourself. He should have used the opportunity to slink away, but he was curiously rooted to the spot.

You resurfaced with heavy, panting breaths, hands slicking your hair back from your face and wringing the excess water from it. You undulated with the current as you waded back to the bank.

The pale light of the moon glinting off your wet skin as you hummed your poignant melody gave you a siren-like quality that stoked the embers of that tingly warmth into a burning need that sat low in his belly. He was familiar with lust, knew the look of it in others and the inevitable feeling of it in himself when forced to perform. Never, before now, had it been a welcome sensation.

I wonder how she’d look, bare in the glow of candlelight.

Just as quickly as the feeling came, it left in a rush of confused disturbance. He was knowingly violating your privacy, and taking enjoyment in it. He felt the overwhelming burden of shame consume him. With one last glance at your lithe form perched on a rock as your skin dried in the warm breeze, he fled into the hush of the darkened forest and far from the conflicted thoughts of an excitement long assumed dead.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #tav #shadowheart #karlach #gale of waterdeep #astarion pov #unnamed tav #no use of y/n #reader insert #afab tav #bard tav #soft astarion #astarion needs a hug #but so does tav #trauma #past abuse #fluff #emotional manipulation #angst #accidental voyeurism #slow burn #au canon divergence

[misspennymelodies]

Where We Run

Song: Sol by Kati Ran 

NSFW. MDNI. Seriously. Turn back now. I'll make things for you later.

For everyone else: Start/end of smut is clearly marked, just in case spice isn't your thing. If you choose to skip, smut is still implied throughout the rest of the sections.

CW: Swearing. Reader gets a little physically aggressive at points.

Smut TW: Slight praise kink if you squint. Use of "good girl" and "princess". Overstimulation. Multiple Orgasm.

I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything between the tags and the TWs

This is a bit of a long one, so buckle up.

*****

Your POV

Raindrops fall from the sky in steady sheets as your feet carry you forward, not bothering to steer you around the puddles in your path. Your clothes and hair are soaked from the lack of protection a raincoat or an umbrella would have provided. You should have brought at least one if you were smart - but you weren’t. Right now, you're just done.  

Done with all the violence, and the pain, and the death. It had been painful enough when Suguru abandoned your close-knit group so many years ago to… what? Massacre over a hundred people? Even then, even though your heart grieved, he was still there. He was still physically present in this world. You could still reach out and touch him, even if the touch would likely have come in the form of a punch to the face. But now? He was just…gone.  

You could only imagine the pain that Satoru was going through, having been the one there during his final moments. The two of you had only shared a few words after you recovered from your own injuries, and you understood enough to know that he had been the one to end his best friend’s life. And then, he, too, was gone. Not in the same sense – he was still here, alive, going on missions. But he pulled away from you, keeping you at arm’s length instead of safely within them.  

You gave him his space, understanding that he needed to grieve in his own way. But days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and soon you barely spoke anymore. You two had once been inseparable, but he had been the one to change that. He was still there, but you could no longer touch him. No longer feel the warmth of his skin over yours. Despite the dark sky and the dense forest, your feet knew exactly where they were headed, even though your heart was lost. 

The rain mixes with your tears as you push forward, feet slipping on a smooth stone. You land on your hands and knees with an audible thud. You're sure it hurt, but you're so numb on the inside that the stinging never registers. You don’t move for a minute, your mind wandering back to earlier that day, and your heart painfully tears just a little bit more.  

(flashback)

You had just finished a class, and you spotted him walking past your classroom window. You quickly shoved your things into your bag and rushed after him, hoping he wouldn’t outpace you. You were determined to talk to him, to have a goddamn conversation with him today. You were so fed up with the silent treatment, and he couldn’t shut the world out forever. 

“Satoru!” He didn’t even acknowledge you as he continued to amble forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Satoru, wait up!” You caught up to him and went to place a hand on his arm to get to stop – but it never connected. His Limitless was up. And you hit your own limit. “Will you just fucking STOP?” You yelled, continuing to push against the barrier. He whirled around, forcing your arm back.  

“What the hell do you want?” he seethed. You felt yourself falter slightly, taken aback by the way his words bit at your resolve.  

“We need to talk.” 

“No, we don’t”.  

“Yes, we do! Look, I know you’re upset about Suguru, but – “ 

“Don’t you DARE say his name!” His eyes were ablaze behind his glasses, and you immediately recoiled, burned by his sudden outburst. “You don’t get to say his name. Not in front of me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to stand down.

“Look, I lost him too,” you spat. “Suguru was like a brother to me, and –“ 

“Stop!” 

“No, you stop! You’re acting like such a fucking child, Satoru! Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean that no one else is!” 

“Well, if I am, then it’s your fault.”  

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You asked, taking a step back, his words lashing out at you. You could almost feel them rip at your skin, leaving marks with their intensity,  

“If I wasn’t so busy having to keep all eight of my eyes on you all the FUCKING time, then maybe he’d still be alive.” A crack formed in your armor. Did he blame you for Suguru’s death?  

“How DARE  you.” You spat, clenching your hands, but he continued as if you hadn’t spoken. 

“All that time I wasted in your bed instead of at his side, all those moments that I spent trying to keep those curses away from you, I could have saved him. It’s your fault he’s dead.” Time seemed to stop, and pain radiated through your hand as your fist came to a stop inches from his face.  

“Take. That. Back.” All you could see was red. You willed your hand to break through his barrier, even though you knew it was fruitless, but you didn’t care. “You. FUCKING. Take. That. BACK!”. Your fist made contact with Limitless with each punctuation. 

“Why?” He was almost nonchalant now. “After all, you know it’s true.” His sudden change of tone tore the wind from your lungs. 

“You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?” Your brain spun, and you staggered back, more tears threatening to spill out. What was happening? 

“Deadly.” He was a mixture of cold and flippant, and you were struggling to keep up. He… he really did blame you for Suguru’s death. “You always held me back. Always pulled me down with you. Always so weak, needy – if I didn’t waste so much time on you, then maybe things would have been different. But I can’t change the past, so better to change the future.” 

That was it. Your heart didn’t break; it shattered. It crumbled into so many tiny pieces that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to pick them up again.  

“So that’s it then,“ you stuttered, tears now freely falling down your cheeks. “You’re just done with me? Done with us? Did it even mean anything to you?”  

“No.” You thought you caught a glimpse of remorse in his eyes as the words left his lips, but it passed too quickly to tell before your own vision went blurry. You sank down to your knees, hands pressed to the rough cobblestone as you struggled to see, to breathe, to even comprehend how things ended up here.  

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him…  

By the time you stopped hyperventilating, Satoru Gojo was nowhere to be seen.  

(end flashback)

You come back to yourself, still kneeling on the ground in the rain. You cursed yourself for being so stupid. You knew he was just lashing out because he was in pain, but why didn’t you stand up to him and fight back? Fight for the both of you? Satoru was the strongest, but why couldn’t you be strong for him?  

Maybe you were weak. 

You stand up, the broken skin on your knees stinging from the movement. You continue moving as if you had never stopped. A few minutes and a million thoughts later, you reach your destination. The city lights seem to dance and flicker in the rain as you look down from your perch.  

You and Satoru used to come to this lookout to pretend that the world didn’t exist outside of you two wrapped in each other’s arms or, sometimes, each other’s bodies. But now? Now, you just want to pretend that the two of you don’t exist either, feeling more alone than you ever had. You slump down onto a nearby log, bury your face into your hands, and cry. 

*****

Satoru POV

He is lying on his bed, the occasional bolt of lightning the only source of illumination he can be bothered to accommodate. It had been hours since the two of you spoke – well, at least that is what you had tried to do. Him? He had eviscerated you.  

He turns onto his back for the umpteenth time, getting lost in the blankness of the ceiling. He had never been good at dealing with emotions. No, that wasn’t true. The happiness that came with being near you was as easy as breathing. He had even accepted that he was in love with you long before either of you said those words to each other. He was even good with death, in a sense. He had known countless people who had died… but betrayal? The sense of loss that came with murdering your best friend, even if it was the only mercy you could give them after they themselves had slain so many others? That was new to him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

So he did what came naturally – he didn’t deal with it. He bottled it up and just hoped it would go away. But every time he saw you, saw your heartbreak, he was sorely reminded of his own. Maybe if he just put his head down and moved forward, he could outrun those feelings of hopelessness and insecurity that kept chasing him. Maybe then he would be strong enough to keep either of you from falling away.  

But what he didn’t do was let you in on this plan. He knew he was stupid for not talking to you, for thinking he could do this on his own. He was going to be your knight in shining armor, and he didn’t want to be reminded of just how weak and vulnerable he was. But in reality, he could barely breathe without knowing you were breathing right next to him.  

Time passed too quickly for him. Just when he thought he was ready to be vulnerable for you again, you were right there in front of him, eyes on fire and Suguru’s name falling from your lips. It was like all the pain he had been running from suddenly overtook him. Became him. He could only watch as he tore through each and every one of your defenses – blaming you for both of your losses and… *his heart clenched*… and even insinuating that the time you had spent together was…  

He rolls onto his side and sits up, feet touching the cool floor beneath him and elbows resting on his knees. He buries his hands in his face, digging his palms into his eyes as his long fingers grip and pull at the edges of his hair.    

He had caused you pain. So much pain. More pain than even he had been feeling at the time. Why? Because you dared to love him when he could barely love himself?   

He eventually lets his hands fall to his lap. These were the hands that killed his best friend. And now they were responsible for ripping your kind, sweet heart from your beating chest. But he couldn’t just let you die a cold, heartless death. No, he would give his heart to replace the one he had so mercilessly taken. Even if he couldn’t make it up to you, he had been the one in the wrong and had to at least try to make it right. 

He walks slowly down the dark hallway, the rain against the roof helping to steel his resolve. Once he makes it to the other side of the faculty building, he pauses outside your door. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive him – hell, he didn’t know if he could forgive himself. But he had to try. He couldn’t rest tonight without you knowing that each moment with you meant more to him than his own life did.  

*Knock. Knock. Knock.* 

He pauses for a moment. Nothing. He knocks again, calling out your name in a hushed whisper. Nothing. He puts his hand on the handle, and it gives way underneath the weight. The door gently swings open to reveal…nothing. You're not there.  

He steps into your room, looking around. It was well past midnight, so where were you if not sleeping? You weren’t typically a night owl like he was. He notices your bag slug over the back of your desk chair, the same one that you had been carrying earlier. So, he knew you were here at least at some point after he left you.  

Lightning flashes again, and something glints on the floor beside the trash. He takes a step forward, his stomach dropping. Your necklace. He gently picks it up, running his thumb over the charm. 

He had given it to you a few months after the whole star plasma vessel incident. It was a cheap pendant on a chain from some festival, but he had bought it mere hours before the two of you stood at your favorite lookout spot, watching the sun set over Tokyo and exchanging shy, heartfelt ‘I love yous’ for the first time.    

You had never taken it off since. And now here it was, discarded like you couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore.  Another flash of lightning, and suddenly, it was like all the pieces fit together. Panic surges through his veins as he tries to shove the necklace into his pocket. He just hoped you were okay. By the time the thunder rolled, Satoru had already transported himself away. 

*****

Your POV

You're exhausted. Every fiber of your being hurts. Your heart still lay shattered within your chest, the dust from its collapse threatening to be washed away with the rain. Maybe if you just sat here forever, somehow, just somehow, the world would right itself again. You were alone, but all you wanted was for Satoru Gojo to show up behind you, bring you into his arms, and never let go.  

"Hey...." You turn, not quite believing what you are hearing. "Thought I would find you here." 

You sit there, shellshocked. How? What? When did he...? Your eyes follow him as he walks around to squat down in front of you. He doesn't have his glasses on, and the heavy rain is already starting to mat his silvery white hair against his forehead. His crystalline eyes bore into yours, somehow shining against the darkness of the night. 

"Look, I - " 

You slap him.  

Satoru's head turns to the side with the impact. You had wished so deeply for him to show up, but how that he's here, all you can feel is the anger and hurt from the last time you looked at him. The slap had actually surprised you. You didn't realize your arm was moving until your palm had made contact with his face. 

"I guess I deserve that." He says quietly, meeting your gaze again.  

"You think?" You bit back. There were so many emotions, and you feel yourself being swept up in their wake. It was like there was a storm raging both inside and out. But Satoru just continues to sit there, unmoving. You feel the broken pieces of your heart lurch in time with a pulse of pain from your hand. It was stinging...from when you hit him...he didn't have his Limitless up this time.  

It was just him. 

Just 'Toru.  

You angrily push him back, a sob bursting from your lungs. "Asshole!" Satoru falls back, landing in the wet grass. "You. Fucking. ASSHOLE, Satoru!" He gets to his knees, kneeling in front of you. Tears were once again streaming down your face. You're not sure if Satoru can see you crying with all the rain, but you damn sure hoped he did.  

His eyes never left yours. You go to push him again, but he catches your hands.  

"I'm so sorry," he says. Another sob wrecks your body, and you wrench your hands back from him. He lets them go in exchange for bringing his own hands up to your shoulders. "What I said before... baby, I didn't mean it." Satoru tries to bring you into a hug, but you fight back, closed fists beating against his chest.  

"You're such an asshole!" you cry. Satoru just pulls you closer, letting you pound against his chest until you sink to your knees in front of him, crying uncontrollably in his arms.  

"I know, I know." He puts his face into your shoulder, just hugging you, afraid that if he loosened his grip, he would lose you for good. You were only half aware that you could feel his body shaking alongside your own, his own sniffles drowned out by the rolling of thunder moving off into the distance. 

Eventually, the rain begins to let up. You pull back slightly, and Satoru gives you a small, lopsided smile. You brush the wet hair from his forehead.  

"I don't deserve you," he mumbles, tracing a thumb over your cheek.  

"No, you don't." Yet despite your words, you could feel your heart pieces gravitating towards each other again, as if Satoru had placed blue right in the middle of the destruction that he caused within you. "I'm sorry I hit you." Satoru lets out a breathy laugh. 

"I'm the one who said all of those things to you, and here you are, apologizing for hitting me? Babe, I deserved each and every one of those punches. Even the ones that didn't hit..." He trails off but brings his other hand to the back of your head, smoothing your wet hair. "I don't expect you to forgive me anytime soon, but let me at least try to make it up to you, yeah?" You nod, allowing his sincerity to melt into your skin.  

"You better." Satoru stands and offers you a hand. You take it, and he gently helps you to your feet. You look up into his face, memorizing every aspect of it. You know him; you know how hard it is for him to bear his soul in such a vulnerable way. Yet here, right now, you feel like it's so exposed that it wraps you up in its very existence. He loves you. And you love him. 

Satoru wraps an arm around your waist, and the world vanishes. 

*********************************************************** 

START OF SMUT SECTION

***********************************************************

Standing in the middle of your room, Satoru kisses your forehead.  

"Get some sleep, Love. We'll talk in the morning." 

"You promise?" 

"Cross my heart, baby." You instinctively roll your eyes at him, a playful grin tugging at both of your lips. Satoru turns to leave, but you grab his hand. He looks down at it before back up at you quizzically. 

"Make it up to me," you whisper, looking at and feeling the smooth skin of his hand under your fingers. The room is warm, far warmer than it was outside. It makes your body tingle.  

"What?" You meet his gaze and pull him gently toward you.  

"Make it up to me." He brings both of his hands to your face. 

"You sure? We don't have to do this now." You nod, your body physically and emotionally desperate for him.  

"Please." His lips meet yours. The kiss is soft and tender and filled with emotion. 'I'm sorry,' his lips seem to say. You let yourself sink into him, enjoying the feeling of being connected to him again. But as sweet as the kiss is, you need more. You want more. You want to feel him need you as much as you need him. 

You bring your arms around his torso, your fingers digging into his back through his clothes. Satoru grunts, and you feel his grip tighten on the sides of your face. You nibble at his lower lip and press yourself closer to him. Satoru's left-hand moves to the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly. Your tongues battle for dominance.  

You let out a breathy gasp as Satoru's hand makes its way under the back of your shirt. Despite the warmth of the room and the arousal blooming under your skin, his hand is still quite cool to the touch.  Satoru takes advantage of this and quickly overwhelms you, forcing his way into your mouth and circling around your tongue with his own.  

His hand rests across your back, pulling you closer. You can feel his dick hardening against you. You rub yourself against him, the slight friction sending shocks straight into you. 

"Mmmm, fuck," Satoru groans, pulling from the kiss. His left hand is still buried in your hair; he gently pulls it, guiding your attention to his face. "You don't know what you do to me, baby."  

"Then show me," you challenge, standing on your toes and nipping at his bottom lip. You can practically hear the instinctual growl that emanates from his chest. Despite the gentle sincerity of the few prior moments, you're still very much angry with him. You don't want to make love to him. You want fuck him –  long and hard. 

That's all it takes. Satoru releases you and brings both of his hands to the hem of your wet shirt, removing it from you in one swift motion. His hands grip your hips, and he lifts you up. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, your arms around his neck. He buries his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, immediately finding the spot that makes you arch into him. You moan into his ear. Your skirt has risen up, and his dick is pressing maddeningly against your clothed clit.  

Fuck he feels good.  

Satoru is not small by any stretch of the imagination, and you don't dare repress the onslaught of dark and dirty thoughts that invade your mind. You grind your hips against him, seeking more friction. You're sure that your thong is already - 

"Satoru!" Satoru is sucking and biting at that spot on your neck. He brings one of his hands to your back, unclasping your bra and splaying his hand out against your skin, holding you tight against him as he continues his assault. You can practically feel him grinning against you.  

"Like that, baby? You like it when I mark you like that?"  

"I could say the same thing to you," you whisper, biting at his ear. Your hips circle his again. This time, his hips thrust up to meet you. You clit spasms at the unexpected extra contact. Yeah, your underwear is definitely soaking.  

He walks the two of you over to your bed, not breaking his suction on your neck. Satoru lays you down gently but is quick to remove your bra, tossing it carelessly to the side. You pull at the top of his shirt, anxious to feel his skin against yours. He takes it off, and you can't help but marvel at him. He's like a god. His tall, thin frame is toned with muscles that you can see shift as he moves. Who the hell made this man?  

As Satoru is distracted by removing his own shirt, you lean up and kiss along his jaw. He groans, his hands gripping your sides. Much like he did to you, you grab at his hair and kiss down towards his neck. He leans into you, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his skin. His hands slide up your body, and soon, his thumbs are grazing over your nipples. You moan into his neck, your body trying to arch into the contact.  

"Easy, baby," he laughs, leaning back. "There's much more where that came from." His smirk is sexy and disarming...and you could so easily lose yourself in him. But you had a mission that you wanted to accomplish first.  

"Don't I know it," you smirk, wrapping a leg around him. His hand rests against you, keeping your leg in place. Perfect. Just as he leans down, presumably to put his glorious mouth to your chest, you push against him, flipping him so you are straddling his waist.  

As much as you wanted him to make things up to you (and God, did you want him to), you also wanted to make him need you. You had waited months for him. He could wait a few extra minutes to have you. 

"Ooo, someone's fiesty today."  

"Fiesty doesn't even begin to cover it." You wink at him and slowly crawl your way down his body, maintaining eye contact with him and occasionally kissing your way down his chest. "You made me wait for you, made me wait for so damn long. I needed you. And now you're going to need me..." 

You trail off when you get to the bulge in his pants. You gently run your nose against it, trying not to provide too much sensation for him. He bucks up against you, but you move your head back, grinning.  

"Ah ah ah, patience is a virtue 'Toru".  

"Yeah, and a virtue you know that I don't h-have." You bring your mouth to his pants, slowly undoing the zipper with your teeth as your fingers deftly open the button. He lifts his hips and shoves clothes down, but you pretend not to notice his haste, taking your sweet time removing them the rest of the way. He practically guides your hand to him. You cock your head to the side and grasp him lightly, your fingers barely grazing his length.  

"Hurry it up, babe. I need you." 

"But do you?" you tease. Satoru's eyes dance wildly, but you know that this is just the beginning. He doesn’t really need you. Not yet. Your hand tightens a little, and you bend down, licking the tip of his member.  

"Fuuuuck. Baby, come on."  

"Did you say something?" you ask. Your hand strokes him a few times before you stop, blowing on the tip where your tongue had just been. 

"Nghhh..." He moans, throwing his head back into the pillows. You know he could easily overpower you and force his dick into your mouth – he had before, on several occasions -  which is why you appreciated the fact that he was holding back. He was trying. That meant more to you than he could know. Plus, it was so fucking hot.  

Perhaps a little reward, then. 

Without warning, you take him fully into your mouth, lips suctioning against him.  

"Fuck!" Satoru's right hand comes to grip at your hair – partially for leverage and partially to keep it out of your face. His other hand is fisted into the sheet. God, this man... 

You pull out until just the tip is in your mouth. You circle it with your tongue before retaking him, letting him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few times, enjoying his breathy gasps as you suck him off. Once you feel like he is getting a bit too comfortable, you add your hands. You let one pump at the exposed base of his dick while the other cups his balls, your thumb running over them in time with your mouth. 

Satoru's breath hitches, and you look up. His eyes are scrunched, and his back has arched slightly. You increase your pace slightly, and his hands dig into your hair, urging you to go faster. But you refuse. Instead, you go slower until he lets you continue your chosen pace. Then he tries bucking up into you; you just lay your arm across his hip, making sure to keep the pressure at his base, twisting and pumping as you continue to take him into your mouth.   

You were practically drooling; you could feel the saliva dripping from your mouth and down his shaft, giving some lubrication to your hand. When you start to taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue, you back off. You sit back on your heels as you stroke his full length, squeezing at random intervals.  

"Babe... Baby..." He pants, his lidded eyes partially obscured by an arm that moved over his face at some point. "I need you." 

"I'm sure you do." You blow onto the tip of his dick again and watch as he shudders at the feeling. "So show me. Show me just how badly the great Satoru Gojo needs me." 

You blink and are on your back, your hands pinned above your head. You almost forgot just how fast Gojo could be when he wanted to be. His hand is large enough to cover both of yours, and he towers over you, his body already covered in a slight sheen of sweat. He is panting slightly. He leans down until your faces are practically touching. 

"Now it's my turn, doll. I've got a lot of time to make up for." He nips at your lower lip before moving down your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, arching up into him. His teeth gently graze the skin, torturing the bud until you are sure you could cum from that alone.  

Then he moved on to the other one. His right hand moved up to pinch and twist the one his mouth had just released.  

"Mmm, 'Toru... please," you sigh, raising your hips in an effort to get him to bring his attention lower.  

"Uh, uh, uh," he chides, his right hand leaving your heaving chest to wag a playful finger in your face. "It's like you said, doll. I need you. Not just to touch you" - he scrapes his nail over your nipple - "but to taste you, to feel you. I'm a starved man, so I'm going to take my time savoring your body." He pinches your nipple again, and you moan, your eyes closing at the pleasure as his mouth - 

"Fuck!" Your hips snap up, and your eyes open as Satoru drives two fingers into you without warning. You were so focused on his damn mouth that you didn't realize that he had moved his right hand away from your breast.  

"But then again..." He seems to stop and think as he slowly pumps his long fingers in and out of your slick folds. "… I do have a debt to repay." He thrusts his fingers into you again, sinking them straight up to the third knuckle and curling them upward. "I'm going to make it up to you." Out and In. "Even if it takes all night." Out and In. His fingers quickly speed up, and you can feel yourself practically fucking his hand. You want to reach up and touch him, but his left hand still has both of yours pinned above your head.  

"Mmm...yeah, 'Toru... fuck...fuck!" Satoru smirks and rests his forehead against your own. His impossibly blue eyes burn into yours.  

"Say my name, baby." His thumb starts to rub circles into your clit. You practically cry into his mouth as he claims your lips in an intense kiss. "I want to hear you scream my name as you come." 

"'Toru...'Toru...." Satoru curls his fingers in you again, his thumb still deftly circling your clit, which is now throbbing with the anticipation of release. You're close. You're so close. 

"My name. Say it," he punctuates as he presses his thumb harshly into your clit as his fingers roughly press into your g-spot.  

"Satoru!" You come crashing down into an orgasm, toes curling at the sheer intensity of it. Your walls spasm around his fingers as you continue to ride it out. He always knows just where to press to make you come undone. 

"Good girl," he praises, kissing his way down your stomach. He lets your hands go, and you wipe away the hair and sweat from your face. "But you didn't think we were done, did you?" 

"Wha-?" Satoru looks up at you from where he's hovering over the apex of your legs. His arm wraps around your leg, pulling you open for him.  

"We're just getting started, darlin'. Gotta make it up to you, remember?" Any words that you would have said all change to his name, wrenching itself from your lungs. His tongue laps at your folds while his fingers start thrusting into you again. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it as he buries himself further into you.  

"'Toru, please, I'm so – fuck – I'm so sensitive. Mmmm... fuck!" He's alternating between lapping and sucking at your clit, and your vision feels like it's swimming, the coil in your abdomen tightening up surprisingly fast. Satoru tilts his head up.  

"I know." He sends you a devilish grin before diving back into you, this time flicking his tongue rapidly against you.  

"I'm coming! Fuck Satoru, I'm coming again..." You buck against him, throwing your head back into the pillow as the coil snaps. Your orgasm feels like a tidal wave, crashing through you with such force that you see stars, even though your eyes are forced closed.  

Satoru hums against you, the vibrations sending tremors through your thighs, straight to your core. His fingers are still buried inside you, pressing and curling into your g-spot over and over again... they make such lewd sounds with your wetness all over them. He's not stopping.  

"'Tor...'Toru, baby, please... I … I..." His teeth gently bite down against your clit as he roughly rams a third finger into your sopping hole. "FUCK!" A third orgasm rips through you. Your entire body stiffens as your back arches. Are you even breathing? You can't tell. Satoru finally comes to a stop, grinning like a Cheshire cat.  

"That's my girl." He hovers over you. You smile languidly at him, running a sweaty hand through his own damp hair. "But you've had your fun. Now it's my turn." He kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, and you can't help but moan into his mouth. Your passionate kiss turns desperate, and he pulls away, staring into your eyes. You can see the wonton need behind them, the desire to take you barely being held back by something else." 

Satoru brings one of his hands up to the side of your face. 

"I love you." Your heart leaps at the words. He doesn't say them often, even when it's just the two of you. But that's what makes it powerful; that's what makes them mean something to you.  

"I love you too, Satoru." He leans down and kisses you again, this one deep and longing, the growing primal desire starting to slip through the cracks.  

"Tell me if it's too much." 

"'Toru, I-" 

"No, please. Tell me because I'm not going to hold back." You hand moves to grip the back of his hair. 

"Satoru, I will tell you." You stare into his eyes so he can see the truth in your words. "Now fuck me." He lets out a breathy laugh as he positions himself with your opening.  

"As you wish." 

He sheaths himself in you with one long, deep thrust. You arch up, and he hovers over you, arms on either side of you. It's been so long since you've had his dick buried in you. God, you forgot just how big he was. You can feel him pulsing up against your halls, his head rubbing against your overly sensitive spot.  

Satoru sets a brutal and fast pace right from the start. You wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to anchor yourself. You would try to meet his thrusts, but he's moving far too fast and hard. All you can do is hold onto him and let him fuck you mercilessly. You did ask for it, after all. You teased him, and them asked him to fuck you. What else did you expect?  

Well, certainly not to come for a fourth time. Not so soon. This one starts deeper than the past three but moves quickly. You barely have time to groan out his name before you're crashing over the edge again. Your entire body is shaking, but he doesn't slow down. He takes your legs and hooks them over his shoulder as he leans into you, allowing himself to go deeper. You feel him brush against your cervix. 

"Fuuuuck. You're gripping me so damn hard, babe. Nghhhh.... yeah, baby, just like that. Don't you fucking stop gripping my cock." Your head is spinning, and your entire body spasms against the sheer amount of pleasure. You can feel Satoru's thrusts start to waver, and you know he's close. He's panting, and you can see the concentration etched on his face. He moves his hand to your mound, fingers quickly finding your clit. 

"Satoru! Oh my -  Fuck! Fuck, 'Toru!" This time, you can feel your orgasm building from your toes. It is deep and thrumming, filling every fiber of your being with pleasure. It's too much. It’s too much. You're going to...  

"Come for me, princess."  

You let out a loud moan, so raw and deep that it cracks as it forces its way past your lips. It is joined by Satoru's own moan – stuttering and gravely as he pulls out, his warm seed spurting out across your skin.  

You both stay there for a moment, panting. Fuck that was good. He finally lets your legs down as he gets up to grab a tissue to clean you off. You don't want him to leave, but you know you'll be more comfortable when he's cleaned himself from you. Once your skin is no longer stained with his cum, you draw the covers back and climb under them, holding a hand out to Satoru, who has paused near the garbage can.  

"Satoru?"  

"Hmm?" He meets your gaze, coming back from...wherever his mind was.  

"Please?" You question, patting the space next to you. "I need you." He smirks at your choice of words, and you let out a laugh, but it's true. Now that you've been thoroughly fucked, you just need him. Just him. You want to feel him next to you, to make sure that he's not going to disappear from your side again. 

Satoru nods and climbs into bed with you, pulling up the sheets and draping an arm across your body. You both lay there in a comfortable silence before drifting off into sleep, the best both of you have had in months. 

*********************************************************** 

END OF SMUT SECTION

***********************************************************

The next morning, you wake to find Satoru sitting at your desk, seemingly deep in thought. He is fully dressed – he must have been up for a while.  

"Mornin'," you say, your voice still rough with sleep. He turns, startled from his pensive state. He smiles, but you can still feel his mind trying to pull him away again. Your own mind follows suit, and you replay the events from last night. It's hard to believe that all of that transpired less than 24 hours ago. "Hey, "Toru?" 

"Hmm?" He props his head on his hand in an effort to maintain focus on you. 

"How did you... I mean, I had hoped you would, but I still can't help but wonder..." Satoru raises his eyebrows, and you chuckle at your stream of consciousness. "What I mean is... how did you find me last night?" 

He lifts a hand up, and you can see your necklace dangling from his fingers, glinting against the early morning rays of light. Your hand subconsciously goes to the front of your neck, and your heart pangs at the memory of taking it off yesterday. You had sworn you never would, and even though the events did indeed justify the action, you still felt bad.   

"I'm sorry..." You trail off, but Satoru just shakes his head.  

"I told you, I deserved it." He takes another look at the necklace before coming to sit next to you on the bed. He motions with his finger for you to turn. You comply and brush your hair to the side, allowing him to fasten it around your neck. Right where it was meant to be. "I'll always know where you run." The words are softly spoken, his breath ghosting over your ear as he leans his head against yours. "At least when you leave clues as obvious as that." You scoff playfully and elbow him lightly. He laughs and wraps his around tightly around you.  

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying being in each other's presence.  

"Maybe we should just run away," you muse, drifting your fingers over his own. "Someplace where only the gods know where we are." He hums into your head, both of you only half contemplating the selfish thought. You both knew that you were needed here.  

*buzz buzz* 

You're broken from your thoughts by a text message coming to your phone. You plan to ignore it, but it buzzes again. Sighing, you reach over into your bag, reading the text messages.  

*buzz buzz* 

*buzz buzz* 

Your face goes red with embarrassment, but you can't help but laugh. "Or at least far enough from Shoko." You show Satoru the texts, and he bursts out laughing too.  

"So, my room tonight? Unless you want to try and be REALLY quiet -" You smack his arm.  

"Your room. Definitely your room." You quickly get ready, and Satoru flicks his glasses onto his face.  

"You know...I'm sure I can figure out how to soundproof a room. Or maybe we can try out a ball -" 

"Satoru!"  

"What?" He's grinning impishly at you.  

"Your room. Unless you plan on running those ideas past Shoko..." You let out another laugh as he sweatdrops. 

"Maybe you're right. But at least we'll be there together." A devilish grin spreads across your face. You tap his shoulder and then make a break for the door. 

"Last one to breakfast is a rotten egg!" He's in front of you before you can even reach the threshold, his grin now mirroring your own.  

"Nice try, Love." He leans down and brings you into a kiss, a hand grazing your - 

"Ow, 'Toru!" He pinches your butt and then runs off, cackling. You laugh and sigh, locking up your room behind you. You turn around and see that Satoru has already made it outside and is standing in front of a slightly annoyed Shoko, waving his hands in an exaggerated manner. You don't know what he's saying, but Shoko tries to hit him on the back of his head. She notices you and waves you over, looking less annoyed as she sees the smile across your face. Satoru is standing behind her, making faces.

Your heart swells. He is back. You are back. Everything is back to normal. And you wouldn't have it any other way. You could probably do without Shoko overhearing you guys again, though you couldn't lie, Satoru's offer was quite tempting. Maybe later.  

But for now, coffee.  

*****

Thanks for reading! :)

Feel free to reach out with comments or suggestions for future works/songs to use. I can't guarantee regular posting or if I'll use a particular idea, but I'm always open to new ideas to get the brain juices flowing.

Cross-posted on AO3 (misspennymelodies)

Much Love,

Penny <3

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #smut #angst to fluff #reader insert #afab reader #not beta read #post jjk-0 #gojo smut #gn reader #accidental voyeurism #teasing #multiple orgasms #established relationship

[dayacakrawala]

Astrotrain x blitzwing?

And they were roommates... These two give a strong vibe of Those Two Dudes always hanging together in the most bromantic fashion. It's inevitable for them to share a hab that they proclaim a separate state with the ridiculous name Autocratic Republic of Triple Changers (unrecognized). But this is no party with your best buddy, they're constantly running low on energon (I'm thinking about it being somewhere on the timeline before Dark Cybertron, but let their standard of living be a tiny bit better). No money no funney. And Blitzwing is salivating over this false valve toy he ran into surfing the online market. The description says it's the original model, not taken out of some poor fellow who hit the bottom so hard they decided to sell their treasure. Intuitive adaptation with EM-field sensitivity, vibration and literally everything that his hand doesn't have. Blitzwing even considers consolidating his and Astrotrain's pittance so they can share it then. That's what friends are for, right? But it's late at night, Blitzwing is rechargeless with datapad in hand. The tab with the product page open. Being broke sucks. Being horny too. At least Astrotrain is peacefully recharging, and it shouldn't take long. It's not too quick though. Blitzwing has to tease his spike with feather lights strokes for it to leak enough lubricant, his eyes locked on the screen. The damn toy is even designed to resemble a valve with two purple exterior nodes. A loud in-vent gets him startled a little. Astrotrain is watching him with his fingers between his thighs. It's probably too dark for him to see with his bad eyesight but he's somehow enjoying the view. "A little help, buddy?" is both a request and an offer. No need to ask twice, Blitzwing is on top of him the next second. Fuck all the "dude-bro" bullshit, they're too broke for it. Astrotrain's valve looks... somehow familiar, two purple nodes flickering invitingly, but Blitzwing is long past caring. It feels so good he HAS to cum in a few thrusts. And he does, shivering, when it's contracting in pre-overload and vibrating so strong he howls. Original model. Sure it is.

#transformers #tf idw #valveplug #blitzwing #astrotrain #accidental voyeurism

[luvrboydave]

ok so this isnt about anyone in particular but i am so obsessed with the concept of nasty perverted behavior like panty stealing/sniffing, accidental voyeurism, somno, free use, etc....so im writing tiny itty bitty blurbs about them!!!!!

idk what it is but my brain is just buzzing recently whenever i read fics about yknow the classic guy roommate doing laundry and finds girl roommate's underwear and pockets them so he can jerk off with em later... GODDDD its so hot to me it really is. then you take it a step further and it's him jerking off with a pair of your panties and cumming on them hoping that those ones are the next ones you decide to wear. 

a man stealing a pair of your underwear from your clothes hamper and pressing them against his nose, inhaling your scent as he stuffs his hand down his pants and rubs one out... bonus points if you catch him doing it and he gets all embarrassed!!

your roommate coming home unexpectedly early one night after a date gone wrong to the sound of your sweet little moans resonating throughout the apartment.. he quietly makes his way to your bedroom door which is cracked ever so slightly. when he peeks inside he gets an eyeful of you sprawled out on your bed, pretty pussy on display with a dildo filling your cunt and a vibrator pressed against your clit. he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning at the sight. he unzips his pants and pulls his underwear down to free his already hardening cock. he knows he shouldnt be doing this and that he should feel guilty for even thinking about you in that way but fuck you look so good like this and he's just a simple man after all...

AND LORDDDD dont even get me started on somno (obv with consent beforehand)... your man being so fucking horny and needy for you that he cant even wait for you to wake up...he sees you sleeping in nothing but a shirt and some panties and goes wild, slipping your underwear to the side, spitting diwn into your cunt, and slowly sliding his cock into your entrance...ypu wake up just as he's about to cum, sleepily mumbling his name and moaning as his cock hits in just the right spot. You beg for him to cum inside you, clenching around him and milking him dry as he does so..NEEEEED THIS RN

ohhh god and free use (again, with consent beforehand)...just lounging on the couch when he comes over to you, slips your shorts and underwear off, and throws your legs over his shoulders. he immediately dives into your cunt, lapping at your fold and sucking on your clit LORD ALMIGHTY!!!!! 

#synful thoughts #smut #smut blurb #somno #free use kink #accidental voyeurism

[dnfao3tags]

Really random but do you have any fics of Dream catching George mausterbating (sorry my spelling I so bad) or playing with sex toys and then it ends up in sex??

a similar tag is perhaps my watching porn tag -> here

and here's what you specifically asked

getting caught

— You’re Dying For Me by gnftavi (expl. | comp. | 1.5k)

“Dream— Ah! I-I’m gonna cum!” George moaned out, breath hitching. “Are you?” A voice came from behind the couch. George’s body reacted before he could. He sat up quickly, shoving his dick into his pants quickly. His head whipped around, eyes meeting the person who was standing behind him. It was Dream. Of fucking course it was.

Part 1 of You're Dying For Me pt 1 + 2

— Sit Tight, Get Messy by dnfsinner, isntitcrazy (expl. | comp. | 15k)

George goes into Dream's room and finds something that he wasn't supposed to see. Perhaps the key to what he wanted had been breaking the rules all along.

— i used to be my own protection by oopsiedoops (expl. | comp. | 4k)

"You heard me?" George looked mortified, crimson shame creeping up his face. "Well...yeah." Dream rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "And saw." "Oh, God."

— Guilty Pleasures and an Even Guiltier Presence by icycas (expl. | comp. | 1k)

George forgets to turn off teamspeak one day and Dream lingers in the call.

— I Go Off Like a Gun by Fetish Ball (arsenicarose) (expl. | comp. | 5k)

George gets off to the thought of Dream, and Dream overhears.

#dnf #dreamnotfound #anon asks #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dnf fanfic recs #dnfao3tags recs #accidental voyeurism #getting caught

[pyjamacryptid]

The Romance Section

A ficlet I wrote in one sitting to see if I could 😅

TW: Accidental voyeurism, but barely anything is seen. It’s all fluff. First kiss. Merthur.

The search for a singular book should not be as arduous a journey as the trek to Moria, Daegal thought to himself.

The maze of his university’s library was a magical place, sure, but in the sense that only witchcraft could cause every single person to find themselves lost in it, at least once. Remembering the time he’d found himself in the psychology section instead of the botany section, Daegal had asked one of the librarians for the specific location of his book. The librarian had been a young man but he’d sighed like an ancient one when he scrawled across the scrap of paper and slid it across the desk to Daegal. Feeling awkward, he’d scurried off and moments later he found himself lost.

What an odd phrase, Daegal thought idly. To find himself lost. But he was. Very very very lost.

Daegal could hear but it was so indistinct it only confused him further. Pages rustled, a pencil scratched paper, keyboards clacked, a person coughed, a slight whisper.

The shelves were made of oak and just as tall as an oak, it seemed. They towered over Daegal and their canopy shaded him from the fluorescent lights. They wore signs; the framed paper next to him read 130 PARAPSYCHOLOGY AND OCCULTISM. Psychology was on the other end of the library from where he started, and he’d started at 400! He had been trying to find 500! How on earth had he ended up here again?

He sighed long and deep, his head so slumped forward he looked like a cane made of jelly. Well, this was the 100 section - in terms of the DDC anyway - so it was only logical that he’d just follow the shelves numerically until he reached 580, right? Mind made up, Daegal walked back the way he had come.

Ten minutes later, Daegal had bravely discovered the Literature section (Class 800) and was seconds from shouting. This being the quiet section of the library was the point; it would summon a librarian in moments who’d carry him off to safety kick him out instantly. Daegal, unfortunately, was a polite and responsible young lad and kept his mouth shut.

It was good he did because he heard indistinct quiet voices, much closer than any he’d heard in a while. Perhaps only an aisle or two away, even. This was good! If he found who belonged to the voices, they could hopefully direct him back to civilisation! (And not get him further lost).

Daegal crossed an aisle and then came upon a little nook. It was a small, square space bordered by two sets of shelves and two walls that joined into a corner. This must be one of the back walls of the library, Daegal surmised and, by the looks of the desks and armchairs, a desirable and cosy little place to read, too. If one could find their way out again, that is.

As he came upon the threshold of this small nook (the bordering shelves on either side of him), the voices - though still hushed - grew louder by proximity. It sounded like two people, unless someone wasn’t speaking of course. He looked about and there, to the left, was the back of a narrow head covered in dark, cropped hair and framed by overly large ears— Was that Professor Pryce? The head turned towards Daegal ever so slightly and— yes! It was! Red scarf and all!

Professor Merlin Pryce was his teacher for the history of plants in medicine this semester. It was Daegal’s favourite class, so far. Professor Pryce was a favourite of students, especially since he did all he could to make the subject interesting.

“I near developed atrophy when I took this class myself, it was so droll,” he’d told them. His guest lecturer, Dr Gaius Wynne-Jones, had smacked him round the head for that. Daegal had been shocked until the student beside him had informed him they were related or something.

Back in the library, Daegal opened his mouth to greet his professor like a shipwrecked man that had finally spotted a boat—

A second voice spoke, it’s owner just out of view, and Daegal suddenly remembered Professor Pryce wasn’t alone. Unable to escape his curse of politeness, Daegal peeked around the shelf he stood next to. It could be nothing, just idle conversation, but he didn’t want to interrupt or impose. Yes, this was technically public, but this was also a very quiet, almost private corner of the library.

The owner of the second voice turned out to be a second man, perhaps the same age as Professor Pryce. He had blond hair that swept over his forehead and wore something Daegal had heard people refer to as ‘business casual’. Ironed, black trousers, nice shoes and a peacoat, left unbuttoned over a dress shirt. He stood rather close to Professor Pryce and both of them seemed comfortable enough with it that Daegal assumed they must know each other either very well, for a very long time, or both. Daegal had never seen him around so it was unlikely he was a professor here, especially if he knew Professor Pryce. Professor Smith was always waiting outside his classroom to have lunch with Professor Pryce.

Professor Pryce and his friend appeared to be in deep conversation, based on how soft spoken they remained, their closeness and the— the way they were looking at one another? Daegal didn’t want to presume. It was hard not to though, when the blond man seemed to hesitate for a moment and then, as if he got a burst of courage, took Professor Pryce’s hand in his own. Then, as if naturally and without much thought, he cradled it, ‘til the back of Professor Pryce’s hand was against his heart.

“Merlin,” he murmured, louder than he had been since, as if it had been punched out of him. “You must know I…”

His voice faded away again.

Professor Pryce scrunched his brows at their intertwined hands, as if confused, and then blinked firmly, once, as if he thought he was seeing things. Nothing changed so he looked up, into his companion’s face. Professor Pryce must see what Daegal could unmistakably see, meters away and half behind a shelf, because he said “Oh, shut up.” and swooped in.

Daegal sprung back. He had been looking to make sure he wouldn’t impose! Not to actually impose! Panicked and praying to the library gods that he wouldn’t be heard and therefore actually interrupt, he scurried away again, as far away as he could.

He hoped he actually found the Psychology section again. Instead, he stumbled across Botany. Go figure.

A/N: I gave Merlin the surname Pryce in this little fic because Pryce means “son of Rhys” (as in, ap Rhys), and ‘rhys’ is in ‘Emrys’ so I thought that was fun and decided to try it out!

#merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur ficlet #I’m trying to write out short things #just to practice #and actually finish writing something even small #so uh here! #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #daegal #merlin x arthur #pov outsider #fluff #first kiss #accidental voyeurism #but like barely #merthur fic #bbc daegal #professor!merlin #merlin fic #merlin fanfic #merlin ficlet #fanfiction #fanfic #ren writes

[witchofthesouls]

Title:Convenient Inconveniences.

I feel this would be a carrier fic but with ridiculous shenanigans.

Thundercracker is expecting, Soundwave is the sire, and everyone is starting to think they have an exhibition kink for the sheer amount of indecent exposure all over the place.

Or in which, mechs are trying to take advantage of Soundwave's "inattentiveness," but just keep walking in on them trying to bone since they have erratic schedules. It gets to the point that there's a new round added to the weekly betting tables: where and what position will the expecting creators be caught in and whether or not someone gets sent to the medbay by TC's nasty right hook or SW's data-cables.

Megatron rewards Soundwave's significant increase in efficiency for "stopping treachery and treason" with a vacation, so they can focus on the incoming newspark.

But then the Autobots intrude on them...

#skyite #ask #ask meme #transformers #transformers g1 #g1 #soundwave #thundercracker #pregnancy #bitlets #sparklings #valveplug #accidental voyeurism #accidental cockblock #maccadam #fic ideas #my writing

[ohhmydyosfics]

(Sungchan-centric)(2Chanz)(Eunton) hey big star

Eunseok: Sorry if u heard that dawg

Sungchan has to take a moment. He counts thirty-one of his heartbeats until he feels like he can move without doing something he’ll regret.

#hey big star #Sungchan #2Chanz #Eunton #Anton #Chanyoung #Eunseok #Riize #smut #hurt/comfort #roommates #college AU #overhearing sex #accidental voyeurism #jealousy #making out #pining #pre-poly #fanfic #oneshot

[drttybt]

Curiosity and Cats

Trans!Wednesday/Enid Yoko/Divina Divina&Wednesday Bianca&Yoko

Enid bails on her friends again, so they consult a lock-in-vision witch to see what has her so distracted. Knowing their innocent friend, it can't be anything too bad, right?

… Right?

ALL CHATACTERS ARE 18+

Words: 3,508

#enid sinclair #smut #wednesday addams #top wednesday #a03 #bottom enid #fanfic #wenclair #wenclair fanfic #wednesday x enid #yoko #yoko tanaka #yokovina #divina #bianca #bianca barclay #accidental voyeurism #big dick Wednesday #seggsy time

[hellcheerficdatabase]

His Dungeon Master Throne

Author: LittlePine

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

Searching for Dustin's lost wallet in the Drama room AKA Hellfire club room, Steve accidentally stumbles upon an unlikely couple as things get steamy. He can't do a lot but watch.

Uh oh.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, accidental voyeurism, smut, Steve is conflicted, it's so hot, but tender, Steve having an awakening? Maybe so, outside POV, one-shot, status: completed

#Alternate Universe- no vecna #accidental voyeurism #smut #Steve is conflicted #it's so hot #but tender #Steve having an awakening? Maybe so #outside POV #one-shot #status: completed #eddissy #eddie munson #eddie and chrissy #chrissy deserved better #eddie x chrissy #munningham #chreddie #hellcheer #stranger things #eddsy #chrissy cunningham

[steddieficrec]

TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE by Novaaaaaaaaaa

(1/1 I 2,058 I Explicit I Steddie)

Eddie would rather die than admit defeat and ask for help.

He knew this was stupid from the beginning.

And now here he was — restrained, stuck, and a fucking dildo up his ass.

And Steve was due any minute now for a movie night.

(fans self)

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #accidental voyeurism #steddie #fic rec #stranger things fic rec #steddie fic recs

[cilil]

TSS2022 advent calendar [nsfw]

✧Treat Gift for Day 11 - Voyeurism✧

There he was, sitting in the middle of a clearing–Melkor, the fallen Vala himself, the Elder King's brother–and he was completely naked, legs spread wide and leaning against a tree as if it was completely normal for him to do so, not a hint of shame in his demeanor. And between his legs was one of the missing Maiar.

POV: Eönwë Pairing: Melkor/Mairon | Angbang Synopsis: After the fall of the lamps, Eönwë is sent to Middle-earth to look for missing Maiar. Things don't go as expected when he not only finds Mairon having fun with Melkor, but also discovers a few things about himself. Featuring: Dork Lords having kinky fun, Eönwë looking respectfully PWP/smut {minors DNI}

Also available on AO3

@officialtolkiensecretsanta

His mission wasn't easy, Eönwë knew and Lord Manwë had said so himself. Venturing out into the wilderness of Middle-earth, a chaotic and dangerous land ever since Melkor had returned and destroyed the lamps, and looking for lost Maiar, as several Valar were still missing members of their households. 

Following Lord Oromë's advice, Eönwë had taken his weapons with him, prepared to fight if he had to, and was determined to find and defend his fellow Maiar out there against whatever or whoever threatened them. 

He had sensed the presence of other Ainur in the area and followed their trail into the middle of a forest, keeping himself hidden upon realizing that one of them was, in fact, not a Maia. And it turned out to be correct, though what he had just found was something he definitely hadn't anticipated. 

There he was, sitting in the middle of a clearing–Melkor, the fallen Vala himself, the Elder King's brother, and he was completely naked, legs spread wide and leaning against a tree as if it was completely normal for him to do so, not a hint of shame in his demeanor. And between his legs was one of the missing Maiar. Eönwë recognized him immediately; it was Mairon of Lord Aulë's household, one of his best smiths. He was on his knees in front of the Vala and naked as well, covered only by his flame-like hair. His hands were tightly bound behind his back and Melkor was holding on to his hair, guiding his head between his legs until his lips touched his– 

Eönwë let out a quiet gasp of outrage and reflexively reached for his sword before he could stop himself. Was the Evil One kidnapping helpless Maiar to force them to perform such unholy acts? He wanted nothing more than to rush in and save Mairon, but he knew neither of them was a match for the mightiest of the Valar. 

Should he try to intervene anyway, tell the Maia to run away while Melkor was distracted? Should he call upon Lord Manwë for help? Or perhaps–  

"Please master..." 

Eönwë's eyes widened in shock when he heard Mairon speak. He had stopped licking and kissing the Vala's cock and was looking up at him with pleading eyes, lips slightly parted and glistening with saliva. 

"Please what, little flame?" 

Melkor was practically purring at the sight and ruffled his hair in a way that seemed... affectionate? 

"I want your cock, master, I want it inside me... please..." Mairon begged, batting his eyelashes at him and wiggling his hips to emphasize his statement. 

Eönwë didn't know if he should be more shocked about hearing his fellow Maia say such things to the fallen Vala or that he caught his own gaze wandering to his shapely backside. 

He is very lovely indeed–

No. I am not supposed to have such thoughts. Especially not in a situation like this.

Yet he couldn't help watching. 

"Not yet," Melkor replied, and patted the fire spirit's head to signal him to go on. 

"You need to work a little harder." 

Mairon didn't need to be told twice and returned to his task. Eönwë could hear his tongue working on the Vala's erection with audible enthusiasm and no matter how often he tried to remind himself that what the two were doing had to be sinful and wrong somehow, he couldn't stop staring. Melkor seemed to take great pleasure in this act, especially when Mairon took his cock in his mouth, eliciting a pleased growl from him. 

Eönwë noticed that he was beginning to feel warm, especially in his lower body. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine how it would be to have someone kneeling in front of him and serving him like this, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a small moan. He hated himself for having such thoughts and feeling these strange things, but deep down he wished he was in Melkor's place right now. 

His reverie was interrupted by a low whine from Mairon–a sound that sent another wave of heat rippling through his core–and he watched Melkor pulling on his hair to remove his mouth from his cock. The Maia pursed his lips, pouting as if a delicious treat had been taken away from him. 

At this point, Eönwë was seriously doubting his previous assumption that he was forced to participate in these acts; in fact, he was getting the feeling that he enjoyed himself just as much as the Evil One he now called master. 

Aulë would be horrified.

"Well, little flame? Do you still want me to fuck you?" Melkor asked with a lascivious smirk. 

"Yes! Yes, please..." 

"Very well." 

Within the blink of an eye, he was kneeling behind the Maia and took hold of his hips, long fingers grasping his ass cheeks to spread them wide. Eönwë caught himself moving just a little closer to the clearing, the thought of catching a glimpse of something so forbidden exciting him more than he wanted to admit, yet his view was swiftly blocked by Melkor leaning forward. 

Mairon moaned in pure delight when the Vala's long tongue found his hole, dipping past the tight ring of muscle. 

"Ngh... master–"

If only he wasn't making such noises. Eönwë didn't know if he should curse these two for shamelessly committing such acts out in the wild or himself for spying on them, unable to tear his gaze away from their naked fánar and how they pleasured each other. Yet despite the indecency of their conduct, he couldn't deny there was a certain allure to it, beauty even; the way Mairon's back arched and toes curled in response to that sinful tongue working inside him, hands straining against their bonds, moans and whimpers spilling from his lips. So eager, so devoted, so helpless and receptive to the Vala's attention. 

Eönwë couldn't deny it anymore. He was intrigued by the spectacle, hypnotized even, and his fána was reacting to his arousal; it took all of his self-control not to touch himself right then and there. The rational part of his mind was screaming at him to leave as fast as he could, lest they noticed his presence after all, but his feet wouldn't obey him. 

Melkor had stopped licking Mairon and was currently taking his time aligning the tip of his massive cock with the Maia's well-lubricated hole, ignoring his impatient whining and incoherent pleading. 

Won't it hurt him? Eönwë asked himself, attempting to shake off the lustful daze that had taken hold of his mind in favor of feeling concerned for Mairon–or at least that was what he told himself. Deep down, he was curious to see what would happen and if being penetrated in such a way would be pleasurable for his fellow Maia. 

Judging by Mairon's cries of ecstasy as Melkor slowly eased his way inside of him, he did. The sensation appeared to be intense–his muscles were twitching and his brow was creased–but if he was in any pain, he seemed to derive pleasure from it. Not once did he beg for the Vala to stop, only begging for more. 

Eönwë wondered if other Ainur were like this too, if more of their kind enjoyed having their fánar bound and used by another. Perhaps he could–no, he didn't allow himself to continue the thought. Surely Lord Manwë would be horrified by what was happening here, more so if he knew that his own Maia was enjoying the view. As his herald, he shouldn't even entertain the possibility of engaging in such acts himself. 

But admit it, you want to, a voice at the back of his mind whispered. 

Yes. Yes, I do.

"Master! Master, please–" 

There it was again, the lovely sound of Mairon's voice trembling ever so slightly while he begged for more. Legs spread as if to draw Melkor into the seductive embrace of his elegant limbs, hole stretching to accommodate his cock, nails digging into his palms as the bonds around his wrists still kept his hands in place. But what drew Eönwë's attention the most was the lovely curve of slightly pursed lips as Mairon called the Vala master. 

It was a complete perversion of how Valar and Maiar were supposed to interact. The title should be reserved to Aulë, his rightful lord, and not be used in such a lewd context. Yet no matter how hard Eönwë attempted to focus on the indecency of it all, to rationalize it as unacceptable behavior and to be shocked that Melkor would corrupt these concepts for his evil purposes, he couldn't deny how appealing it was. He didn't understand why, but the mental image of having one of his fellow Maiar on their knees, calling him master or lord or another title of his choice and begging for his cock– 

Eönwë caught himself before his hand could stray too far and bit his lip. At this point his need was too great to ignore, he knew he wouldn't be able to resist touching himself, but not here. He had already brought enough shame upon himself and his lord as well as Aulë and Mairon by failing to intervene and bringing the Maia to his new home in Valinor–though he strongly suspected that Mairon might've refused to come with him even if he had somehow managed to get him away from Melkor. It certainly seemed as if he was enjoying himself in his current position. 

Deciding it was best to leave them be, Eönwë tore his gaze away from the two Ainur and fled from the forest. He didn't slow down until he reached the shores of Middle-earth where he stopped abruptly, staring at the sea in front of him in an attempt to calm down. It was in vain. 

I cannot return to Valinor like this.

Slowly, he turned around and walked away from Ulmo's waters until he found a secluded, hidden space to rest. Shame weighed heavily upon his fëa and his cheeks felt like they were burning when he finally gave in to his urges and started touching himself. Eönwë wrapped his wings around his body and buried his face in soft feathers as if he was attempting to hide his disgraceful actions from the world–as well as his own conscience.  

A beautiful fána bound by chains, writhing under his hands.

Eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open, a voice moaning in response to his touch.

"Yes, my lord. Please take me."

Tight, wet heat engulfing his cock, caressing him, welcoming him inside.

And his vision went white, bright like the lights of Valinor, when he finally found his release.  

#tss2022 #tss2022 advent calendar #eonwe #eönwë #mairon #sauron #melkor #morgoth #angbang #melkor x mairon #melkor/mairon #accidental voyeurism #ainur #valar #maiar #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien #cílil writes #eonwe needs help and tissues

[hualianff]

(NSFW)

I think FX should walk in on HuaLian fucking but XL is too far gone to notice and HC just smirks at FX while proceeding to fuck XL ten times harder.

FX high tails it out of there, his hardening dick slapping against his thigh.

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #xie lian #hua cheng #feng xin #horni thot #accidental voyeurism #my beloved

[triptychgrip]

Tfw you’re gripped by inspiration in the dead of night to write a crack-y one-shot instead of working on your multichapter fic…

—————

“Yes! Please, I want it all, every mirin-flecked morsel, every scrap of scallion!”

Nalini snickered; Viktor’s breathy, absurd alliteration had her feeling slap-happy.

His voice sounded quite strained, the words bracketed by heavy panting.

“How bad do you want it, my love? Say it,” came Yuuri’s commanding, forceful response. “Tell me how starved you are for this hot, succulent katsudon.”

Nalini nearly choked on the handful of banana chips making its way down her esophagus.

---------------

When Nalini Samudra – hired to plant-sit as well as dog-sit Makka – bungles Viktor’s fancy stereo operation instructions, she accidentally begins playing his and Yuuri's sex tape in broad daylight, on crystal-clear surround sound.

She knows it’s a gross violation of privacy to continue listening but how can she possibly suppress her intrigue when she gets to hear a whole new side of Viktor’s unassuming fiance?

Especially when he says things like “Every grain of rice, every bit of fluffy egg, Vitya, I’ve been saving it all for that hungry mouth of yours.”

#yuri on ice #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #post canon #established relationship #crack treated seriously #katsudon #smut and fluff #pov outsider #accidental voyeurism