#maybe this is their way of telling me its time to go to bed

[pervile]

fucking you with detachable cocks

⸻ boothill & transmasc reader

adult content. minors do not interact. pet names like pup & good/baby boy & bebe are used, sexual experiment (?), squirting, descriptions of top surgery scars, mention of impregnation, rough sex, prone bone. 1.5k wc

✦ basically he has detachable metal cocks and he fucks you with a monster lookin one. . .not rlly proof-read just pure horny tbh im not rlly sorry for this lmao. thoughts are thunking, maybe i'll leave out the metal dicks next time.

currently thinking about which metal cock boothill fucks you with tonight. you think its absolutely absurd that his body was programmed so thoroughly this way, but it only just prompted the many more unique ways he got to fuck you.

it was also absolutely fanatical that his metal parts became so responsive to pleasure too. sure, they were attachments and they could come off, but you're really starting to wonder how scary it is with how life-like they become once connect to his body.

you discovered quick enough that he could ejaculate like any ordinary guy with a cock, and could even get you pregnant, if he wanted to. of course, the last one is just a theory, considering the idea only popped into your head once you found out he could force an orgasm.

but how on earth are you going to explain to your neighbour when they receive the wrong package in the mail, filled with an assortment of metal attachments that look exactly like cocks, showing up at their doorstep?

saying its...a funny hobby of yours would be a little too embarrassing, so after one encounter, you made sure to get your packages delivered when either you, or boothill, were home.

but tonight is the night, where you get to choose apart of this assortment, and how good your boyfriend gets to fuck you.

you're sitting up perched on the cotton bed sheets, legs tucked under your butt as you place one hand along the tip of your chin in eager thought. boothill is laying in front of you with his pussy out on display–well, what looks like one without any attachments anyways. maybe one day you'll discard the idea of metal cocks for one night and rub one off with him.

that too, was also a brilliant idea. but...tonight, your long-awaited, limited-edition one came in early, and you needed to try it as quickly as you possibly could.

boothill's legs were spread in front of you in anticipation for the one you'd actually pick, and he gulps mildly when you do pick the largest one there–for someone who wasn't getting fucked, he sure did seem a little terrified of its size.

you sort of giggle to yourself before picking up its weight, twirling it around under the ceiling light to get a good look and feel of it.

". . .baby boy, are ya sure yer can handle, that, size? why don't we start with somethin' smaller first- y'know...to get you warmed up-"

"why are you so scared for, hmm? besides i've wanted you to fuck me with this one since the day i saw it." your legs quiver a bit in excitement and you feel your clit throb hot once your awareness is brought to the ridges and edges on the shaft.

"doesn't it look so pretty?"

you bring it up to his face with gleaming eyes and boothill sighs, bringing a hand up to move it away from his face.

"fudge- i mean...alright darlin', if this is what yer want. but i can't promise i'll go easy on ya tonight then."

you give him this devious smirk before scooting further between his legs. "hehe, that's the whole plan though!"

as you proceed to attach the metal cock to him, you make sure to tell boothill to sit still. he does so very willingly and later jolts when it finally clicks in.

what looks like precum, instantly oozes out the top of the tongue-like crown and down the black-metallic shaft. you instantly feel the metal grow a bit warm between your palms, and it compels you to rub your thighs together when you see him twitch.

boothill lets out another puff of air before inclining into you and deflecting your attention from the metal cock. he kisses you affectionately and you kiss back, making sure to bare no teeth when inserting his tongue into your mouth. he then goes to grab your face, pressing more into you, before finally pushing you onto your back against the bed.

your body bobs with the fall and you smirk up at him, letting some of his hair fall around your head. while giving him a wide grin, you play with the baby hairs adorning the back of his neck when you wrap arms around him.

"are you sure you can feel anything with all these attachments?" you proceed to say, while rubbing a thigh against the cock.

boothill responds well by grunting with eyelashes fluttering momentarily. "why? yer tryna see if yer can have my kids or somethin'? don't provoke me pup."

"oh, yeah?" you say, both of your lips awfully close to each other, as if they were dancing.

without warning, boothill then flips you onto your back and rubs his new, shiny cock against your asshole, slipping each time he does. more precum spills out the top from this and he pants a little harder.

"yer said this one is self-lubricated, ain't it?" he questions the back of your head before you're putting the side of your face on the back of your palms, looking up at him.

"mhm, yup. so, you can slip right in and- NGH?!"

boothill obliges without you even need finishing the rest of your sentence, pushing the slim crown in, and each bump and ridge one at a time before bottoming out inside your cunt.

your, small, puffy dick rubs against the mattress, and it forces you to lift your hips into him, which, of course, you immediately regret once doing so.

"AH- shi- oh my fucking god...! fuck boothill-"

he can't quite explain it, but the way you restrict around him feels too real. like this is his own cock ripping you open. it drives him insane when he decides to pull out and sink into you again, as if each ridge of the metal cock had separate nerves of its own–he could feel everything, and he wasn't quite sure how long he'd last like this because of it.

boothill listens to your profanities before fucking you rough in prone bone, your legs slightly separated while his cold, metal thighs rubbed against the outside of your waist. the stark contrast of his body being so chilly and the cock attached to him so warm, made you shiver in ecstasy.

"ya feel so fudging good, i think i am going a bit insane." he pants against your ear before pressing more of his heavy weight into your back, the rest of his hair falling over your forehead when he brings a metal finger into your mouth.

"boothill-" you whine, sucking the cold surface, "try a little ngh deeper."

his eyebrows furrow as you squeeze him. "deeper? isn't yer sensitive spot somewhere here?" he pummels into you faster, and you swear you could see stars with how sharp the edges felt on his dick.

"oh fuck- i want it- ugh- yes, yes yes!! boothill!!!" you shriek out his name as your calves come up to to flail against the pressure he's putting against you.

"take it all, bebe. take it all."

boothill then flips you onto your side, bringing one of your legs up over his shoulder as the other one tucks under his own legs. this position allowed him to fuck you even deeper, places you thought couldn't be reached.

you're now able to get a clear picture of what sort of mess he was making of your cunt, a prominent bulge of him inside your stomach clearly showing on the surface with every brutal thrust.

boothill is surprised when he see's this as well, and his cheeks instantly flush a brighter red that causes him to accidentally cum inside of you.

you're not sure if him cumming without warning was what freaked you out, but the amount of cum he was pumping into you shouldn't be considered safe.

"fuck?! boothill?!" you choke on your words and look up at him, tearing your gaze from your puffy cunt. he then proceeds to lean over you, bending you in half, and placing one metal foot beside your head. this new position shouldn't even be classed safe, and you have a feeling that tomorrow your back will be hurting like hell.

but the immense pleasure he was giving you was unbearable–him taking advantage of how nice he felt overstimulated by abusing the nice spot inside of you.

you squirt over his dick with a cry, eyes shooting wide when you grab onto his metal arm for support.

"thats it, my good boy. yer doing so well, fudge. i think- i might cum again."

and he does, spilling the rest of his liquid inside of you as your toes curl from being fucked through your orgasm.

after a bit, boothill collapses into you, keeping his metal dick still sheathed inside of your cunt. when he lifts his head, he proceeds to trace the scars along your chest, biting and playing with your nipples with his jagged teeth.

you give him this dazed look as you wrap your arms around him and he gives you his signature smirk. you then groan and whince a bit when you realise how full your stomach is with his cum.

"are you trying to get me pregnant or kill me? fuck- maybe this was a terrible idea giving you a toy without restrictions."

"forget the the dick then, lets do it without it next time, yer?"

your eyes instantly open from this in excitement, "wait, are you for real!?"

#boothill smut #boothill x reader #hsr smut #star rail smut #ftm reader #transmasc reader #bottom reader #male reader #nereids' realm #house of solis occasum #art by @/Crovious_ on twitter

[stxrslut]

oh hear me out .. in the john b x pup x jj dynamic its so easy for pup to enter subspace with johnbee rather than jj.. cs with jb he keeps her contained and grounded, whereas jj lets her run free and encourages it !! so often times when shes tired out from jj she goes to johnbee, all sleepy and nonverbal and needy and of course daddy bee knows best 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

🐈‍⬛

I also feel like sometimes pup doesn’t actually realise that she needs to slip. so she’ll be outside running around and having all her fun with jj, and he just starts to notice her going a bit more tired and clingy and he can tell she’s about to go.

so he’ll just catch her and pick her up, “okay sweetie, I think it’s time to go see daddy now. can see you gettin’ tired out.” and he takes you inside.

john b can see by the way that you’re completely limp while jj’s carrying you that you’re going into subspace. he stands up to take you off the blondes hands and give you a kiss on the cheek while he takes you to the couch, “hi puppy, you feel a bit tired right now? yeah, that’s fine, you just let daddy take care of you.”

they both get you all comfy in your pyjamas and lots of blankets. jj puts a movie on then moves over to sit next to johnb and keep a hand on your back.

maybe at some point you start to subtly grind on johnbees lap and they both take a hold of your hips and start guiding you until you reach a climax. then lots of kisses and coaxing to come out of it before they can take you to bed and let you sleep.

#🐈‍⬛ anon #jj maybank prompt #john b prompt #jj x reader x johnbee #jj maybank dialogues #john b dialogues

[togamest]

-> first meeting: first sunset | 1,425 words. gn!reader, reader wears a bikini, alcohol consumption.

author’s notes: he’s so summer love, god. i’ll probably expand on this eventually but this is very selfship coded,,,also semi-inspired by @dearkiryu and i's convos abt him 🤭

you remember the first time you met jo togame.

you’d just gotten off the plane, the smell of the sea tingling your nose as you had bounded into the terminal, your carry-on in tow. you make it to your hotel without issue, and spread out on the bed, rolling around the soft sheets and smiling to yourself.

the beach had drawn you in quickly, pulling you by the strings of your bikini as you wander across the sand. a few chairs are set up, scattered across the beach in speckles of blue and white and teal. you’d sat for a long time in the spot of your choice, sipping on one of the beers in your cooler.

you’d been swiping through the matches in your phone absentmindedly, not really invested but interested to see where things go. you don’t even pay attention to what the guys look like; many of them look so similar. surf body, blonde curls, blue eyes. “yes, i get it, you live in california,” you mumble to yourself as you toss your phone in your bag, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and settling back into the chair to drift off for a little bit.

a shadow casts over you, and you squint, looking up.

it’s a man. and he’s pretty.

you lean up, squinting. “can i help you?”

the man shrugs, moving out of the sun’s way and sitting on the chair next to you, the supports squealing under his weight. he was tall, muscles rippling underneath his skin; at least six feet with pretty braided black hair, wisps of it falling across the sides of his face. he’s wearing those translucent sunglasses, tinted orange as he leans over, wiggling his phone.

“didn’t think i’d meet one of my matches so soon.”

you gasp, looking through your phone. sure enough, there he was, looking exactly the same as he did before you. except in his photo, he’d had brilliant green eyes.

the same ones that held your gaze now, with nothing but kindness behind them.

“s-sorry,” you manage to stammer out, embarrassment flooding through your system. “i didn’t think i would either.”

he chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as he leans back. “don’t worry ‘bout it. did ya mind if i kept ya company for a little while?”

there’s something about him that pulls you in. it could be his voice and its lilting tone; perhaps his eyes? or maybe even the way he’s holding the same beer you’re drinking right now, as you look down and notice there’s one extra missing.

you gasp again. “did you steal one of my beers?”

he answers with a shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips as he cracks the can. “maybe.”

you huff, rolling your eyes. “you’re a piece of work already. jesus, accosting me where i can’t say no to you, and then taking one of my beers? you’re ridiculous.”

he doesn’t respond, but instead chooses to smile again at you. “yeah, but i’m hot, so sometimes i can get away with about ninety percent of that.”

“don’t talk yourself up so much. it’s egotistical.”

he takes a sip, smacking his lips. “that may be, but i like t’ go after what i want quickly. i like opportunity, y’know? and ya seemed pretty bored out here, anyway.”

he’s right, you are bored. solo traveling has its perks, but people watching can only get you so far. you hum, bringing your own beer to your lips. the chill and carbonation make you feel a little less nervous with every moment that passes.

“what’s your name?”

“togame. jo togame. you?”

you tell him yours, and he smiles again.

“pretty name for a pretty thing like you.”

well, that was something else. having a man come on so strong to you wasn’t unknown to you, but it felt odd every time it happened. like you were unworthy of such praise and attraction due to, well, you.

he relaxes after that, simply basking in the sunshine next to you, asking questions about where you’re from and why you’re here. you don’t answer him honestly, of course; he seemed fine, but you can never be too careful. he doesn’t chase after more answers, seemingly satisfied with the short responses you’ve given him.

what a weird guy.

ironically, it had been a long, relaxing day with togame; contrary to popular belief, he was quite charming. and his slight ego interested you deeply, to the point where he’s stood and offered his hand to take you for a walk across the beach.

your legs are warm as you walk beside him. there’s a smile plastered on his face, soft with the edges of his lips slightly upturned, his eyes gentle behind his sunglasses.

“so, what’re ya really here for?”

“what do you mean?” you take a sip of your beer.

he shrugs, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back just a hair, his eyes sliding shut. “dunno. jus’ curious.”

you hum. “curious, huh?”

his hand scratches the back of his head. he looks embarrassed, his eyes darting to you and away, as if he’s scared of what he’s about to say.

“someone like you shouldn’t be alone.”

you can’t tell if it’s sunburn or blush that’s making your face feel hot and red, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “unfortunately, many people don’t tend to agree with that statement.”

you avoid his gaze. you can feel it sizing you up, but it feels nice. it feels like he cares; a stranger, whose taken you on silly errands of his own within hours of knowing only his name. you’d taken a risk, you know that; you know what could have happened.

but it didn’t. somewhere, some solo traveler god has you in their thoughts. and they’d sent him, with braided black hair and pretty orange sunglasses that do nothing to hide the way he’s eyeing you.

instead, he takes your beer, ignoring your protests as he places it on one of the tables between deck chairs. the look he gives you after fills you with dread. you know what he’s about to do. every neighborhood boy had that same look at every pool party you’d been to, when things got a little too laidback.

“jo, don’t you dare—“

he completely ignores you, choosing instead to pick you up like you weighed nothing. your vision goes awry, the world rolling around in your line of sight as he walks into the water, ignoring the battering of your fists on his back.

then, the cold water hits you, saltiness stinging your tongue and your skin as you gasp, hitting the wet, sandy floor of the shallows with an oof.

after some spluttering, you wipe your face and glare at him from where he’s standing, a few feet off to the side with a horrific grin plastered across his face. he thought it was funny.

let’s see how funny he finds this.

you stand up, clothes sticking to your skin as you shake your head to get the water out. then, you lean down, arms in the water.

he looks at you. “oh, seriously?”

his tone is too teasing to be serious, so you smirk, letting loose a spray of water that slaps him all over, particularly in the face. he staggers, removing his sunglasses as he splutters away, spitting the sand and salt out of his mouth. giggles erupt from your chest as you hold your stomach. you haven’t laughed like this in a long time. a very, very long time.

you ignore the forlorn feeling present there. there’s no time to dwell on those thoughts right now.

you had something right in front of you that could take your mind off of it.

you both play around in the shallows for a long time. so long, that the sun begins to set on the horizon, setting the ocean ablaze in shades of red, yellow and orange. togame’s hand is in your own by then, his chest pressed skintight against your back. you’d slid between his legs on the bench, right between his thighs, making yourself comfortable. your beer is long gone, having been finished hours prior.

you fold your fingers between togame’s, resting your intertwined hands against his thigh. you don’t want to leave, but you know you should. not to mention, you could work up the courage to invite him in by the time you arrived at your hotel if you ask him to accompany you.

“walk me home?”

he nods. “thought ya’d never ask.”

divider credit: @/benkeibear networks: @enchantedforest-network

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

#togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #wind breaker x reader #ari's autographs #god he is so. holding my head in my hands

[poughkeepsies]

when you're gone, i come undone

Buck’s never been religious, and he sure as hell wasn’t raised with the brand of catholicism that seems to plague Bobby and Eddie’s every step, but he thinks he can understand why Bobby likes his rosary beads so much. At the very least it would give him something to do with his hands while he sits vigil at Bobby’s side, way past the time visitors who aren’t on a first-name basis with half of the hospital staff would be allowed. 

The others had left hours ago, some with kids who needed taking care of and others anticipating early shifts the next day, promising to take over from him as soon as visiting hours started. There was no shortage of people who wanted to be the one to keep watch over Bobby, but the night shift would’ve usually fallen to Athena, if she wasn’t recovering in her own room and allowed more than a couple minutes out of bed at a time to come see him. 

There was a quiet devastation clinging to her that Buck had never seen before. Maybe because before there would’ve been the safe walls of her home and the arms of her husband to cover her when she lost her unflappable mask. 

That, more than anything, makes him feel utterly helpless. As much as he had been thinking of Bobby as more of a dad to him than his own father for close to a decade, Athena was never his mom. 

After the rough patch at the start of their relationship, they’d understood each other in the way only two people who love someone as much as they both loved Bobby could. You hold half of his heart, so you’ll hold your fair share of mine, as well. Maybe that was why he’d taken one look at the longing in Athena’s eyes and promised to stay the night with Bobby. No matter his own desire to never let Bobby out of his sight again, he also wanted to protect the pieces of Bobby that were with Athena, as well. 

The only problem is that Buck has never been able to stay still for too long. He fidgets, and he bustles, and he fills silences. At the minimum, it usually earns him a dead-pan look that’s suspiciously drenched in fondness, or his name uttered in gentle scolding twinged with amusement. 

He half-expects the latter to fall from the corner of Bobby’s mouth with a single eyelid cracked open to give its best effort at the former, the way it usually happens when they’re in the bunkroom and everyone else is ready to sleep like the dead while Buck is wide-awake and wired like an electric fence. 

The image stands in such contrast to the blank slate of Bobby’s unconscious face that it does nothing to soothe his nervous fidgeting. He’s leaning so far forward, trying to summon any sort of conscious intention behind the mechanical rise and fall of Bobby’s chest and every reflexive twitch of his face, that he accidentally shifts the chair, so the bottom slides against the floor and breaks the momentary silence that only exists between the regular beeping and intercom noises that come muffled through the hospital room doors. 

Come on, Bobby. Tell me to shut up and go to bed. Tell me it’s late, and I can either close my eyes and actually try to sleep or go make some of that lavender tea we keep for this exact reason. You know you want to. Stilling so as to not miss any minute signs of Bobby’s stirring, Buck’s breath catches tight in his lungs like it used to when the fridge door would be too loud as he tried to sneak past his dad’s sleeping form in the living room armchair when he was a kid. Unlike back then, the disappointment when Bobby fails to stir is a living thing that threatens to swallow him whole. He rides the wave of devastation by opening his mouth and intentionally filling the silence, instead.

“I’m gonna say something, but you can’t get mad at me,” he says. Bobby is silent, but that’s not much different from how he’d usually react to such an opening from Buck, so he takes that as his go-head anyway. “I think this may be all my fault.”

It’s probably just his own nerves, but the air in the room settles around the words with so much  tension that it only serves to spur him on. “Not the- not the fire, obviously. I mean, I had no idea you’d even met the guy Athena thinks is responsible for it, but that’s kind of what I mean, you know? I had no idea.” 

His breath is shaky as he exhales, a tremble running up his shoulders. 

“I don’t- I don’t think I ever told you, what I saw when I was in the coma. Maybe you already guessed. Some days it’s like you seem to know what’s going on in my brain better than even I do, but it was just. It was a different world, Bobby. Daniel was still alive, so I guess I never had a reason to come to L.A. and join the academy and everything was just…wrong. Maddie was still with Doug, and Eddie never got to meet Carla so he couldn’t figure everything out fast enough to keep Chris, and Chimney…well, Chim was still Chimney but he told me that you were dead, Bobby. He told me you’d been dead for years and it was like I couldn’t breathe.” 

He kind of feels like that now, actually. His face feels hot and his eyelashes are heavy like when he’s about to cry but his eyes are dry. For the first time in years, he’s in agreement with his body’s reaction to something. If he were to start crying now, he wouldn’t ever be able to stop, and that feels too much like giving up to be acceptable. 

Deep breath, he thinks, in through his nose and pushed out from his mouth. His lips are dry. He keeps going. 

“I used to think that’s why I died, you know. Like I was supposed to learn something and that’s the only way the universe could think to get it through my thick skull, I guess.” 

“But I think I got it wrong,” he whispers, and it echoes as loud as the beeping from the heart monitor. 

“I thought it meant that I matter, you know. Like, ‘they need you as much as you need them! Don’t leave them alone!’ But I was so stupid.” So much for not crying. His day-old stubble is damp with tears. He’s been wearing these clothes for more than 24 hours at this point and he’s starting to feel overstimulated in the way he sometimes does when they’re on a busy shift and don’t have time to freshen up. It occurs to him that Bobby usually notices, like he notices most things that have the potential to bother any of them. This would be the time when he tells Buck to go ahead and take a quick shower while he reheats the food. And Buck would come back good as new, a weight lifted off his shoulders before he could even recognize it because someone cared enough about him to know him better than he did himself. 

“I’ve been so caught up in my own stuff since I came back and, God, I’ve just been so happy these past couple of months it feels like I’ve been walking around with blinders on. I didn’t even notice this thing going on with Eddie until it was too late and now he might lose Christopher. You came to talk to me after our last shift and I should’ve -  I should’ve - noticed something was wrong but all I could think about was if I had everything to go stay with Tommy. a-and then something happened with Eddie, and I honestly don’t think I spared you a single other thought that night, Bobby. I was using your recipe to make dinner for my date while your house was burning down.” 

He’s tripping over his words, like if he says them fast enough he can reach Bobby and earn his forgiveness first, before the disappointment settles in and bars the gates. 

“I should’ve remembered, Bobby. The dream showed me a world where I wasn’t there and you died, and I left it. I came back because I couldn’t live in that world. I refuse to.” Saying the words settles something in him, and he wipes the wetness from his eyes away with the flat of his palm before crossing his arms and sitting up in the chair, body once again posed like a shield between the outside world and the figure lying in the bed. 

“Look, maybe-maybe I already missed the chance the universe gave me. But you know better than anyone that I’m way better at third chances anyway.” He tries for a smile, and if he squints really hard he can almost see the muscles under Bobby’s eyes tensing the way they do when he’s about to smile, too. 

“You’ve never given up on me before, Bobby. Don’t start now.” 

The monitor’s beeping remains the only other sound in the room, but that’s okay. He’s learning to be patient. Bobby knows that, too. 

#dear god im literally in emt class rn but i had to post #if anythings fucked ill fix it later #911 spoilers #weewoo brainrot #evan buckley #911 abc #bobby nash

[bucked-it-up]

BuckTommy Fluff & Angst 764 words

Buck got home in the late evening, tired after a long shift of back-to-back calls with seemingly no break. He was dead on his feet, ready to maybe eat and then get straight into bed. His mind was spinning, thinking about anything and everything that he could stress about, no matter how small. Did he say something wrong to a patient? Maybe the facial expression from another firefighter meant he had done wrong? So many trivial things that he couldn't quiet.

As he stepped through the door fiddling with his keys, he realised that someone else was in the loft. He could smell food, hear movement. He looked up and saw Tommy in the kitchen, humming to himself, moving around to different pots on the stove. He looked happy. Comfy. Like he belonged.

"Evan!" Buck was startled out of his daze. "Come sit, dinner will be soon."

Buck finished taking his coat off and put his bag aside. Walking over to the table he still had thoughts spiralling through his head but maybe they were quieter. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Tommy had already laid the table and Buck was just sort of staring at it. So often he had cooked for someone else to come home, he had set the table, greeted them. It was odd to be on the other side. Why had he never been on this side? Was it something he had done? What was different now that allowed this?

His thought process was interrupted with a plate being put down in front of him and a soft "Evan?"

He looked up and saw Tommy's face painted in concern, he could see all the layers to it. Nerves. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment? Why was there disappointment? What had he done? Before he could spiral again, he felt a hand on his arm, he felt like he had been pulled back into the present.

"Evan, I'm worried." There was that concern again. "You've barely said anything, since you came in. What's going on?"

Buck could feel his heartbeat faster, his chest gets tighter, breathing felt like a chore. His words didn't want to come out. What if he ruined this? What if telling Tommy scared him away? What- Oh.

Arms had wrapped around him, his face pressed into something warm. "You don’t have to say anything now, Evan but I am here. I am not going anywhere."

Buck felt a release. It was like everything that had happened that and before came crashing through him, fighting to find a way out. The way that it found was tears, tears that never felt like they would end. Tears that also felt freeing. He felt like his mind was pushing itself through the fog, away from the spiral down.

He pulled back away from Tommy, looking at his face wanting to see what he would fine. Maybe a part of it was the spiral looming wanting to reach out, call to him, bring him back into its slippery slope. All Buck could see was Love, made with layers of concern, nerves, sadness, anger, disappointment.

"Today was hard." He finally got out. It was small and quiet but also so loud. It felt so powerful to admit that. It was another step away from the panicked questions, from the alluring spiral. "I'm so grateful for you."

Tommy's face softened; his arms moved so that one was on Buck's face. He leaned down and caught Buck's lips in a soft kiss. "Let's eat, you need it."

Tommy moved from where he was crouching at Bucks chair, to opposite him and sat. Buck lifted his fork, filled with food, to his mouth and when he had a taste all he could think was how it felt like home. Like warmth. Like comfort.

Buck and Tommy while a rocky start to the evening were able to then have a peaceful time. They ate food, watched TV pressed against each other, sharing kisses and love. They made it to bed, under the covers, skin against skin.

"Today was hard." Buck began, loud in the quietness. "I couldn't rest, all I could think were these questions that kept making me second guess everything. I couldn't stop. It felt relentless."

Tommy brought an arm over Buck's waist, pressing small kisses against Buck's neck and shoulders. "But you helped. You helped me step away, helped me stop. I love you."

There was another small kiss to his neck before Tommy replied, "I love you too, Evan. Anytime, I will be here for you anytime. Like you are for me."

#brain decided to project my anxiety onto buck #hope you like #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 abc #winnie rambles

[starfxkr]

if you don’t like when “dad” is used or freudian behaviors THIS IS NOT THE ASK FOR YOU also this is just the more tame stuff bc i’m still scared to say it all tehehee because it gets icky like fauxcest icky and idk if y’all vibe with that

The first time JJ realizes something isn’t right is then he angry-fucking her. He realizes he’s doing it as a correction like a father does. He’s not *mad* at her, he’s making sure she doesn’t make the mistake of let’s say… being in the bad part of town alone at night again. It makes him spiral at first; pushing her away. He can’t feel like that it’s perverse, disgusting and wrong. She’s so young and hell, he watched her GROW UP so he shouldn’t even be fucking her in the first place. But then again he watched her grow up so even though they’re in a relationship, he still feels he has to give her fatherly protection. So he does just that.Lets say she’s still in school (college- maybe she’s got a scholarship idk) he makes she’s that’s she’s on top of her school work because who else will? Who makes sure she’s eating well? (okay maybe her but who’s giving her the money to?) Who makes sure she’s going to bed on time? Brushes her teeth? Him, him, and him.

So maybe it doesnt COMPLETELY surprise him when she calls him “dad” for the first time in a sleepy, post-sex haze. But that’s when he first notices how tiny she are compared to him, how much baby fat she still has on her face. It REALLY confuses him because why does he like it? why does it make him feel in charge? why does he want more?

and so maybe while he’s fucking her he brings up her massive crush on him when she were little. Making her tell him EXACTLY what she wanted him to do. Kidnap her,and make her open up all her little holes, make her feel wanted.

One day he does it; sets her free into the woods to run so he can hunt her down. (Because JJ in every universe is insanely primal- even if hes) He definitely has the hunting knife you got him for his birthday.

“Go on sweetpea, dad’s right behind you” like a dad comforting his daughter. When he catches you he wrestles you to the mud,pressing your face into the disgusting muck, pounding into you mercilessly, flashing the dad knife in your face. “There we go, you like dad’s big dick stretching you out babydoll?” When he’s done, he carries you back to his motorcycle, helping you change into new clothes he already had in his backpack and running some water into your hair to help with the mud. When you’re home, he cradles you, putting on your favorite show and giving you sips of water, waiting for your favorite food to get there. He doesn’t coo at you but he reassures you as best he can, “you did so good for me baby. You made dad feel so good”

fucking her hard as a correction yeah...yeah because in jj's mind its different because he's not hitting her not like his dad would hit him but fundamentally he's still hurting her. and in many ways the fact that he watched her grow up is what makes him so rough, she thinks she's ready to be a "big kid" so to speak but he knows there's a lot she doesn't know and he relishes in being the one to show her the rough ways of the world because in his head there's much worse people than him. in a way he's doing her a favor.

and a really fun and interesting contradiction about reader is she's very self sufficient, she's been working since 13, shoulders lots of responsibilities and when she's not around him she really does feel older because like she has to be but jj just makes her revert into this needy, petulant little thing because for all his faults he takes care of her. the first time she slept over his house he didn't even fuck her, he just tucked her in on the the couch and said good night like there's lots of weird layers. nobody's cared about where she goes and who she's with before. nobody's made sure she ate or got some sleep or did her work but he does all of that. and jj doesn't necessarily like or dislike doing these things, but in a way he feels like he's obligated to because again there are much worse men out there than him. he may be mean and scary and taking advantage of her but he's feeding her and housing her with no real expectations? like even if they fuck thats not a requirement for what he does for her.

so yeah the lines start blurring because he blurred them from jump, he always knew she had a crush on him despite his disinterest when she was younger but again he's not a nice person so he mocks her for it, makes her tell him all the things she thought up just to feel some shame for it. again this is the luke in him coming out because things can never be easy. and she makes him sick, because he thinks he was never this needy, this desperate, this pitiful for someone to love and take care of him (he was).

jj hates and loves how small she is compared to him, how she's still got a layer of baby fat on her body, how she looks to him for guidance and direction, because all those layers she wears in front of people come off and he sees her for this mewling little pathetic thing she is and he likes having this control. so he lets her have the fantasies, he plays them out, he becomes her mean angry dad looking for an excuse to hurt her because isn't it so good to be on the other side of that for once?

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj #hewwokitti

[nhasablogg]

would you make my year and write a fic with Captain Kirk tickling Mr. Spock? I love their ship and seeing Spock flustered :3

800 words for you :)

Jim didn’t understand it at first because Spock never once broke eye contact. In retrospect maybe that was the first clue; a persistent burning gaze so unlike the collective human reaction to something so delicate. But Spock wasn’t fully human, and so Jim didn’t immediately decipher the meaning behind it. Didn’t understand what value it carried.

“Do you want me to stop?” He aimed to tease but felt uncertain, and so the words came out as a genuine question.

Spock didn’t respond, merely blinked, the first time any of his features really moved. It hadn’t surprised him that he remained entirely still beneath him, as if calculating the situation, wondering if Jim would actually take it as far as he said.

“I-” Jim sat up straighter when Spock’s voice broke, knees on either side of his hips, a weak attempt at keeping him in place even though he knew Spock could throw him off easily if he wanted. The fact that he didn’t was probably the second clue, had Jim been counting.

He tilted his head, moved his hands off of Spock’s chest. “Spock?”

“I do not,” he said, voice steady as if there had never been any hesitation and Jim had imagined it. His eyes still on Jim, keeping their gazes glued together. He felt himself flush, always so human in his own emotions. Always so unsubtle.

“Oh.” Why Jim was the flustered one was beyond him, but maybe this was the third clue. Nerves very rarely came alone. Usually something about the other always accompanied them, and Jim would be a fool to say there was no tension in that room.

Spock blinked again, the second time he interrupted their locked gazes. “I reckon that is not common.”

Jim felt himself smile. “Well, it depends on who you ask. But I get it.” He placed his palms flat against Spock’s chest. “It’s kind of appealing, giving up control like this. To some, at least.”

“Not to you?”

Jim shook his head. “We’re talking about you here. Tell me.” He leaned closer, hands moving down. “You don’t want me to stop.”

“I do not.”

“Which means you want me to tickle you, right?”

Spock betrayed his timidness distinctly for the first time now. Gaze flickering. Cheeks reddening. “I do.”

And suddenly Jim understood. Understood the stillness and the forced eye contact. Attempts at keeping himself in the moment. Attempts at not letting his human emotions win.

“It’s okay, you know.” He leaned even closer and let their foreheads bump together. “To want it. To let yourself want it.”

Spock’s breath hitched - delicious, dizzying - but he let Jim’s fingers find his hip bones without protest. Jim could imagine the way his nerve endings were short circuiting. All anticipation, all a battle of control. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that letting go didn’t take control of its own. The only time Spock allowed Jim to take the upper hand was in the bedroom. This was new territory. They were on the bed, they were intimate, but this was different. This was silly.

Spock was rarely silly, only with him. Jim suddenly felt like crying.

Clearing his throat, he pressed his fingers into the skin; not enough to tickle, but enough to ask a question. “May I?”

Spock wasted no time when he said, “Yes. Always.”

Jim squeezed. He didn’t expect Spock to laugh immediately, but he did expect him to squirm, even to buck, but he merely stiffened, as if unsure of how to react. Jim would’ve found it adorable had he not been too focused on how fucking hot it was to be in this position. As he squeezed again, he saw Spock unravel all the more. From the way he now gripped onto the sheets, to the way he nearly smiled. Jim could imagine it, how a few squeezes from now, maybe to his sides or thighs, would have Spock giggling, the tip of his ears reddening, until he wouldn’t be able to look Jim in the eyes anymore.

But Jim, being absolutely captivated by this new flustered Spock, decided to take his time. Spock would giggle either way, he realized when he later went for his belly. Spock would squirm and twitch and refuse to admit to being ticklish, he realized when he went for his neck and ribs at the same time. And Jim would never forgive himself if he went too quickly. This was meant to be dragged out. This was meant to be an exploration.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he said, and Spock opened his mouth to respond just as Jim dove in, mouth on skin, and all that came out was laughter.

#tickling #ticklish!spock #tickle fic #spirk fic #spirk #n writes #spirk ficlet

[sentientgolfball]

Same Old, Same Old

if you couldn't tell I've been possessed by these two recently

Read here or on Ao3

Pairing: Zephrit

Word Count: 3730

Tags: pup as a nickname, Zeph is kinda(?) mean...a little?, so much nipple

Summary: Ifrit takes a trip down memory lane by playing dress up with his old uniform. Zephyr catches him and makes the most out of it.

A bored ghoul never meant anything good. Ifrit had been sitting in his room all day, bored out of his mind. No chores to help with, no Siblings looking for him, no call to action. He laid in bed for an unreasonable amount of time, alternating between texting Zephyr and scrolling on his phone. Another hour passed before he huffed and tossed it on the bed next to him. There were only so many cat videos he could take. 

He heaved a sigh before standing, stretching with a pop in his shoulders. He figured a walk will do him some good, anything to get his blood pumping. Fire was an element of energy and Ifrit could not stand the thought of staying still any longer. Maybe he would even find something to do while he was out and about. Even if he did not, at least he would not be laying around anymore. 

He thinks about where he will go as he changes out of his pajamas. His phone buzzes, another text from Zephyr. From what Ifrit could tell, they have been having a day. They have been helping a new Sibling tasked with sorting through the older books in the library which is not a problem on its own, it is a certain Sister. Sister Gracie. She has been the problem in all of Zephyr’s workday stories recently. She checks out hoards of books and keeps them well past their due date. On multiple occasions, Zephyr has had to go directly to her and ask for them back. They were at their wit's end for today though. Apparently, she actually returned the stack she checked out on time, but when Zephyr went to collect them from the bin they had been damaged. All of them were either soaked or had some mystery stain on the pages. So all day it has been running between helping the new Sibling, talking with Imperator and Sister Gracie, and trying to salvage the books. 

Another ping from Ifrit’s phone. 

If I see her in here ever again after this I will be more than tempted to break that stupid human rule they can send me back to Hell it’ll be worth it to claw her eyes out

He stares at the message and quickly decides he will make the library his destination for his walk. It was on the opposite end of the Ministry from the ghoul den, so surely it will be enough to get some energy out. Plus seeing Zeph right about now sounds nice, for both their sakes. He sends them a quick text telling them he is stopping by before lacing up his boots and leaving the den. 

The halls aren’t as filled as they usually are, he passes a few pockets of Siblings and ghouls filtering about but that’s it. He greets them all with enthusiasm, a bright fang filled smile. It seems to be a lazy day for the entire Ministry, though the heat from the late spring sun might have something to do with that. 

He decides to take the longest way possible to the library, taking every twist and turn he can. He can feel his fire crackling just under his skin. Now that he’s finally moving around he feels ready to burst. When he passes the doors to the practice room he pauses though. He stares at the metal doors, out of place against the stone architecture of the ancient building. It’s been a long time since he’s gone inside, since he’s been on this wing of the Ministry. He hasn’t needed to, when Dew changed guitars Ifrit took the fantomen to keep in his room. When he gets that itch to play all he has to do is take it off the wall. 

He opens the door just to peek inside. When he sees the room is empty he figures a quick trip down memory lane won’t take too much of his time. He steps in, lights and air conditioning coming to life when the sensors pick up movement. He takes a deep breath, it smells of artificial cold and polish. Underneath all that though, the dull scents of various ghouls filter through. Quintessence and fire smell the strongest. Ifrit briefly wonders which combination decided to lock themselves in here for a few hours. Omega and Alpha? Dew and Aether? Phantom and Dew? Or maybe it was Swiss? The multi ghoul’s scent was always hard to pinpoint unless it was fresh. 

Ifrit shrugs, not too concerned with the details. He bounces around the mini rehearsal stage; eyes closed to let muscle memory take over. He bends backwards, throwing a hand into the air to show off to a ghostly crowd. If he’s quiet he can almost hear the cheering. He misses the energy of performing, misses the pleasant ache in his body after a ritual. Even so, he would not go back. Nothing would stop him from being where Zephyr is. Nobody had asked him to leave, but when Zephyr said they couldn’t  handle it anymore it wasn’t even a question. Reliving the memories is enough as long as Zephyr is with him. 

Oh shit Zephyr!

He pulls himself back to the present with a shake of his head. He already took too much time by stopping, Zephyr is probably waiting for him outside the library doors. He jumps off the mini stage, bounding towards the exit when a light catches his eye. One of the soundproof practice rooms has a light on. He thought he was alone. He can’t help it when he turns, heading down the short hallway. He peers into the window when he’s close enough only to find it empty. Well not empty, all of the spare practice rooms were being used as storage while the band wasn’t actively preparing for a tour, but there was no one inside. 

He goes to open the door, but it hadn’t been closed all the way. He pushes it open and steps inside, surveying the space for any signs of who the mystery ghoul may have been. Whoever they are, they left in a hurry. Uniform bags are open, a mask box sitting on one of the few chairs in the room. Ifrit moves to clean up the small mess, but seeing the glint of the mask has him stopping. It’s not one of the helmets like he was expecting. Its silver, no opening for a mouth, curling horns, and sculpted hair. Empty eyes stare up at him. His eyes. His mask. 

He doesn’t think as he takes it out of the box, bringing it up to his face to look into the eye holes. It’s surreal to hold it again. The only one who stills wears this version is Omega; feeling the cool metal feels wrong but almost right in a strange way. This was his face for his first few months Topside and now it just sits in a box. 

An idea crosses his mind. One that would surely get him in trouble if he was caught. Whoever was in here before him clearly thought the same thing, only Ifrit didn’t stop. He put the mask back into the box, closing the lid and picking it up before his conscious could catch up to him. His eyes quickly scan over the rack of costume bags until he finds the right size. If he was going to steal pieces of Ministry history he needed to do it quickly before someone else wandered in. 

He shuts off all the lights in the practice room before slinking out of the metal doors. He figures if he goes the short way back to the den he’ll make it to his room before running into trouble. The library is all but forgetting as he scurries back with his contraband. He won’t have it for long, just the evening. He’ll return it first thing in the morning before anyone notices it’s missing. It’s been a long time since he’s seen this uniform, he just wants to taste it again. 

He makes it back to his room in the den with no trouble, suddenly very thankful for the slow, lazy day. He has the uniform out of the bag; still on the hanger but laid across his bed. He stares at it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He runs a hand through his hair. 

Despite his conscious finally catching up to him, he shrugs his leather jacket off before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. He discards his pants next, adding to the pile of clothes next to the bed. He stares at this old uniform in nothing but his underwear for a moment long before grabbing it. He puts the pants on first. It’s a little tighter than he remembers, meeting a bit of resistance as he pulls them over his thighs. After a bit of tugging he gets them all the way up to sit around his hips. The waistband slightly digs into his skin. The top comes next. He unbuttons it with practiced ease before sliding it onto his shoulders. 

“Oh shit,” he says with a mix of surprise and panic. 

It’s already tight around his shoulders and he hasn’t even rebuttoned it yet. He turns to look at the floor length mirror that sits in the corner of the room. The fabric is pulled taut and he briefly worries about the seams bursting if he moves too fast. He didn’t risk stealing this for nothing though. He begins to close the buttons one by one. It becomes a struggle once he’s halfway up his abdomen. He has to suck in deep breaths of air just to be able to pull the edges close enough to slip the button in. It’s a fight once he gets over his chest. No matter how he moves he can’t close it. He breathes, he relaxes his shoulders, he hunches forward, yet nothing gets him closer to his goal. Did he really get that much bigger since his summoning? 

He stares at his reflection, the uniform so close to being all the way on. If he could just get the buttons over his chest closed. He ponders any possible solution, so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the door open. 

“So, this is what you did instead of coming to see me?” Zephyr leans against the doorframe with their arms crossed. 

Ifrit whips around, a slight flush to his cheeks as he tries to stammer out an explanation, “Zeph! No you see I was coming to see you, swear on the Lords, but I…well you see it’s funny really—“ 

“Save it,” Zephyr holds up a hand “I can see you’re having lots of fun playing dress up. Please, don’t let me stop you.” 

They watch him, waiting for him to continue. Yellow eyes look him up and down expectantly. Ifrit almost flinches under the intensity. 

“I can’t.” He bows his head, looking at his feet. 

“What? Too shy now that you’ve got an audience? Come now Ifrit, I thought you loved the spotlight.” 

He shakes his head. “No that’s not…I can’t Zeph.” 

He tries to pull the buttons over his chest once more, showing Zephyr what he means. They watch him struggle for just a moment before it clicks. Their eyes scan over his figure again, only this time they notice how tight the uniform is on him. It's clinging to him, no wrinkles or extra space in sight. The way his chest bulges out of the unbuttoned front. They can see the outline of his nipple piercings. They can see everything. When the silence stretches on for too long, Ifrit lifts his head to look at them, guilt and shame written all over his face with how deep that blush has gotten. Suddenly Zephyr couldn’t care less about having to walk back to the den all by themselves. 

“Poor little pup can’t fit into his old uniform?” Zephyr pushes off the doorframe, stepping into the room and closing the door behind them. 

Ifrit’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline at the tone of their voice. Zephyr stalks over to him, running their hand over his shoulder and down his arm. They can feel the muscle ripple under the featherlight touch. They can’t help but squeeze his bicep, feeling the solidness through the fabric. Ifrit shudders, watching a small grin appear on their face. They meet each other's eye for a moment before Zephyr slips one of their hands into the opening of the uniform to grab at one of his pecs. 

“Why bother trying to button this thing? Leave it open so everyone can see your perfect tits.” 

Ifrit chokes on air when Zephyr pinches one of his pierced nipples harder than what could be considered pleasurable. 

“This is certainly an improvement. Could never touch you like this backstage.” They fondle his chest, squeezing as much of him as they can with one hand. 

Ifrit allows himself to be pushed until his back hits the dresser, hand shooting out behind him to keep his balance. Zephyr presses themselves tight against him, standing in between his legs to cage him in. He stares down at them as they start to mouth over his chest. The whiplash of Zephyr catching him to having that cool tongue gliding over heated skin makes his head spin. He isn’t sure if he should stop them, telling them to wait so he can take it off lest he rips it, or let them continue to grope his sensitive tits. 

When he feels them bite close to his nipple his brain shuts off, hand flying up to stop the whimper that catches in his throat. Zephyr does it again. And again, and again, and again until his chest is covered in purple. His hips grind forward against them when their other hand tweaks his nipple at the same time they suck the other into their mouth. They squeeze their tail around his waist to stop the movement of his hips. 

“Not yet pup, I want to take my time with you while you’re like this. Don’t want it to end too early.”  

“Zeph, Birdie. Come on, we…you’re going to rip it,” he struggles to form a coherent thought with the way they’re rolling that sensitive bud between their teeth. 

Zephyr pulls off of him slowly. They stand from their hunched position to stare at him, hands still roaming over his chest. “Are you telling me no?” 

“‘No!” He says in a hurry “, that’s not what—“ 

“Then shut your mouth. You’re the one who wanted to play dress up, so let’s play.” 

Zephyr steps away from him before reaching up to wrap their hand around one of his horns. They drag him to the bed, tugging and pulling at him to get him to lay flat on his back. Ifrit’s helpless to it, he allows them to move him however they want with nothing but the grip on his horn. When he’s down, Zephyr straddles his hips. Ifrit stares up at them with wide eyes, waiting for them to make a move so he can figure out how to not burst every seam on the uniform while they use him. 

They tilt their head smiling at him; something sweet and simple before spitting directly onto his tits. Everything moves quickly after that; they unzip their pants just enough to pull their cock out, jacking themselves a few times before sliding up farther on Ifrit’s abdomen. They reach into the uniform to squeeze his chest together, moving their hands in quick circles to smear the salvia around before letting up on the tension just enough to shove their cock between them. 

They squish his tits together until they’re hissing with satisfaction before slowly rocking their hips. He itches to replace their hands with his, do something other than stare slack jawed up at Zephyr, but every thought dies when he sees the tip of their dick peek out from his cleavage. His hips twitch up searching for friction when he watches a bead of pre drip so close to his chin he could lick it up if he craned his neck just a bit more. 

Zephyr laughs at the hazy look in his eyes, at the way he’s just staring at the way their tip glides closer and closer to his face with each roll of their hips. The laugh is cut off when his brain finally catches up and he flicks his tongue out to swipe over the slit, drinking down the pre pearling at the tip. Zephyr shudders with a groan, hips bucking forward to get closer to the heat of his mouth. 

“Not as dumb as I thought you were.” They huff, resuming a more rhythmic grind albeit it faster than before. 

Ifrit is craning his neck to keep his tongue out, licking over their cock as they fuck his tits. He can feel the drool running down the side of  his mouth, dripping onto his collarbones only to slide down and pool in his cleavage. 

“Making a mess of yourself pup,” Zephyr groans. 

Ifrit doesn’t respond, doesn’t have the brain power to. His senses are flooded with the taste of them, with the sight of their flushed cock, with the breathy little sighs that fall from their lips each time Ifrit flicks his tongue. He wants to get them in his mouth, properly suck them off until they cum down his throat. He moves without thinking, trying to grab their hands and surge forward to flip their positions. He doesn’t get that far. The moment he lifts his shoulders a deafening pop accompanies the sound of skin gliding on skin. Ifrit is slammed back into his body when the tension around his shoulders suddenly feels lighter, less constricted. 

“Birdie shit wait. Stop, I think it ripped.” He panics, squeezing Zephyr’s wrists. 

“How is that my problem? You stole it now you’ll live with the consequences.” They huff, doubling down. They squeeze his chest tighter, rocking their hips faster. 

Ifrit could easily throw them off, truly ask them to stop, but he can’t find it in himself to move. He’s paralyzed by the realization he damaged the uniform, but also by the ache between his legs and the weight of Zephyr on his chest. Caught between his want to stop and his need to continue. 

His mind is made up for him when a particularly hard thrust from Zephyr pushes the tip of their cock against his lips. His hands fly to their hips, urging them to do it again. They oblige, pressing closer to his face. Ifrit shifts just enough to be able to wrap his lips around the head, sucking and licking over it. Zephyr’s head falls forward, cursing under their breath. Their thrusts turn into quick little grinds, shoving more of their cock into that hot, wet mouth. 

Ifrit lets the weight of it rest on his tongue as drool runs down his chin. The awkward angle makes it difficult to take more than an inch of them, but he doesn’t care. He’s content to run his tongue over them, licking at their slit and the sensitive spot on the underside. Ifrit sucks, working his lips around them and Zephyr is unable to stop their talons from digging into the meat of his chest. Ifrit moans, eyes fluttering and hips bucking into the air from the prick of pain. 

Ifrit does it again. Instead of talons tearing tendering flesh he feels Zephyr go rigid. They cum without warning, coating the inside of his mouth. He instinctively swallows around them and they shudder as another glob squirts over his tongue. Ifrit suckles on his dick until it’s too much and they’re pulling away from him in overstimulation. They’re both panting, staring at each other with flushed cheeks while they catch their breath. When Ifrit runs a hand through the mess on the chest Zephyr groans. 

“Get out of that thing before I ruin it.” Zephyr slides off of him, knees cracking when they stand. 

Ifrit sits up to sit on the edge of the bed, turned to stare at his reflection in the mirror. He runs his hands over the deep marks littering his chest. His brain supplies him with memories from backstage closets and hotel rooms as his eyes rake over the disheveled uniform. That is, before he remembers where he’s at. Why he has the costume to begin with. His head snaps to Zephyr who’s just smiling at him. 

“Don’t worry I’ll fix it before someone has your horns.” 

Ifrit sighs a breath of relief. “Thank you birdie.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time and I certainly hope it isn’t the last,” they press a kiss to his temple ,” now strip.” 

He stands, taking off the top as carefully as possible to not make the tear worse. The seam on his right shoulder is ripped down to the armpit. He cringes at the sight, handing it over to Zephyr before shucking the pants. Zephyr nearly doubles over at the sizable wet patch on the front of his boxers. The fabric clings to him, outline the shape of his now soft cock. They palm at him, squeezing him through his underwear and smearing the mess around. Ifrit shudders at the feeling. 

“Filthy,” Zephyr muses. 

“You’re one to talk,” Ifrit huffs a laugh. 

They shrug, gathering the discarded uniform and folding it neatly before putting it on the desk to work on later. 

“You’re the one who put it on. I’m not to blame for my actions.” 

“Hm,” he thinks for a moment, “maybe next time I’ll wear the mask.” 

“Oh so suddenly you have no reservations about stealing Ministry relics?” They eye him with a grin, something dangerous glinting in their eyes. 

He grins back, “Not when it makes you like this, birdie.” 

They hum, pressing kisses along his jawline “Good.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Ifrit feels their hand wrap around his throat, “But if you ever leave me waiting like that again I’ll make sure you suffocate, understood?” 

Ifrit swallows and nods. He shifts the weight on his feet, feeling his cock try to kick back to life. Zephyr grins at him. With the uniform gone he had no protection from their talons. He almost hopes they’re still upset with him. 

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fic #zephyr ghoul #ifrit ghoul #zephrit #18+ mdni #golfball writes

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster: Stranded

I rattled the gate. It was locked down tight. I might have been able to break it but there wsa a camera up above us which would capture me. I was sure Ruby could cut the lock but that was the same problem. 

“So we’re locked out of campus for the evening?” Ruby asked. 

“Sure seems that way,” I responded. 

“Where are we going to sleep?” 

“We’ll have to find a hotel.”

“Ha,” Ruby laughed. “Reminds me of Anima.”

I grinned a little at the mostly good memories. “Anima was good times.”

“So where do we start looking?”

I pulled out my scroll. I started googling. “The nearest hotel is a couple blocks that way.” I pointed South. “No wait that’s an BNB.”

“So?”

“So it probably wouldn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Well...” I didn’t have a ready retort. “I suppose it could...that is to say...”

“Lead the way,” Ruby demanded with a smirk. I grinned back down at her. I closed my scroll and began to walk through the crystal like buildings which made up Atlas. 

Ruby took my arm. I looked down at her but she wouldn’t meet my eye as she skipped to keep up with my gait. I slowed down for her so she could walk beside me easily. It wasn’t like we were in a rush. 

“You know Jaune...” She began.

“I probably don’t. Tell me,” I shot back. 

“Never mind, then.” Well alright. Keep your secrets. 

I held the door for Ruby to the BNB. She walked in and up to the register where a lanky dude in a t-shirt was standing looking bored. I glanced around. There were neon hearts and light up arrows. My face reddened. 

“Rubes?”

“Yeah?”

“I think... this may be... like, a love hotel.”

“A love hotel?”

“Yeah, you know. A place for couples. To get away.”

“What’s the big deal? Its just for a night.”

“Yeah. I think that’s the jist of this place.”

“One room please,” Ruby said to the dude by the counter.

“Enjoy your stay,” he returned sounding bored. Ruby scanned her scroll to pay before I could argue. I would have paid but I still had my reservations about the hotel we found ourselves in. Ruby grabbed my arm and half dragged me to the room we’d be staying in. There was a large heart shaped bed in the center of the room. I shot Ruby a glance. Her face was beet red like her hair. 

“I’ll just take the floor,” I managed. It should be comfortable enough and there were plenty of pillows on the bed.

“Nonsense. We can share.”

“Rubes-”

“Yeah? What’s the big deal?”

“Its inappropriate.” 

“Why? I trust you.” She looked up to me with her cool grey gaze. I looked away blushing. “Jaune. I trust you.”

I sighed. “I’m a guy Rubes. You’re a girl.”

“So this is about gender roles.”

“Not necessarily,” I protested. “I’m straight.”

“And I’m demi,” she shot back.

I blinked at that. “So it wouldn’t be a big deal for you but it would be for me,” I tried to explain.

“Why wouldn’t it be a big deal for me?” She wondered.

“Well... you’re demi.”

“But I trust you,” she shot back with a glare and some heat. I flinched.

“All the more reason its inappropriate,” I carried on.

“So this is what Pyrrha went through.”

“What?”

“Jaune, I’m comfortable sleeping with you.”

“This has nothing to do with sleep!” I protested. 

“I know!”

“What? Rubes I-”

“Jaune, won’t you sleep with me?” She pressed. She looked up at me with big silver eyes. “I know the implications of what I just said. I’m not a little girl.”

My throat was suddenly very dry. “Rubes you’re my best friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be friends with you. I’m very flexible. Want to see?”

I swallowed hard. I choked on air. “Yeah. I do.” She led me inside by the hand and shut the door. 

#9daysoflancaster #rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster

[oatbugs]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

#saw carnation lily lily rose by john singer seargent irl today. it was basically at my doorstep all along idk why i never went to see it #it was placed at a corner in the gallery. me and my friend sat down and sketched the paintings of beautiful naked people quite badly. paper #provided by tate britain. she told me about how she couldnt look her boyfriend in the face after a harrowing film about war. when i say the #interview was informal i mean the person who was supposed to be my boss told me let me get you a cider and then he said after #50 years of life he knows people are inherently good and it only takes a little bit of kindness to save this world. he said he tricked #his wife into keeping the baby and then he said he quit his job at a US bank to help people find meaning and in it #he would have liked to find meaning. instead he started climbing with his friends. he said he chews his cigarettes because its a habit from #when he had to hide things from people. the entire time i felt uncomfortable and incredibly enlightened. this is my friends mentor. she has #his pattern of pauses and expletive and penchant for ends-justify-means attitude. i do think im not very clever #but maybe one day i will love you enough to make up for it. i wrote code i dont understand staring at the final error i thought about how #we both thought of how when we're too old to remember the voices of our friends we would like to stand in the pathway of the LHC beam pipe #cut it open and eat light in the freezing cold vacuum (kills you long before radiation will) the invisible puncture wound unfolding dna #back to the start larger than you ever were. you go to heaven once youve been to hell. my friend is in my bed #practicing calculations of eigenvectors by hand and she is uninterested in a visual proof you are uninterested in incompetence #we catch a train this is your kind of burden you tragic hero wincing at that word you only do this because you have to. im the only one #who can. i am a coward in this for the fucking poetry. the visual proofs. the pretty numbers. an architect who was horrible at maths wanted #to be a philosopher and accidentally ended up neck in deep in 70th Error On Visual Studio Code i want to kiss your eyes before we say #goodbye we both know there is no love in the way there should be. I still have your dress in my wardrobe. i hope you make art. #you think im alright head-wise i think you fucking hate me i think ill never be so clever you want me to tell you my idea? #if you wanted more of this world i would have liked to kiss you harder. we cant both be like this. im sorry i cant be with you the whole wa #the love is gone if you have to ask it. his breath catches his eyes feel stiff it is -1.9 kelvin he is near the beam pipe i miss holding #his hand i miss her singing voice i miss his hair and i found the antonym of pain thank you for carrying me home.

[ef-1]

girlhood

#i have to fly out to capetown to see mother and im literally debating if i could land in the morning and leave at night on the same day #like. anything longer than that is going to ruin my year. #when she called and did her “katherine. you have to be here on the 10th” i literally sobbed in my bed for the rest of the day 😍😍😍 #not dyeing my hair black for a year and its getting lighter and lighter everyday and i look like her again #and my therapist telling me “you need to do things for yourself.” but like can i? sorry that woman traumatised me and i actually cant :) #like everything i do is informed by her #I'm going to go and just like everytime the only way to keep my sanity is to mirror her. talk and sit and speak and read and eat like her #and its such a terrifying experience bc i remember that im capable of emulating her viciousness and maybe i am my mother's daugher 🤢🤢🤢 #and im going to come back and its going to take fucking months for me to feel like myself again #“oh you look so beautiful just like your mother” i hope you DIE lol !!! the fact that my conception of beauty was shaped by her #growing up with this cruel beautiful detached woman and realising that at the intersection of beauty and wickness is a lifetime of pain #and still being so desperate for her approval- for any metaphysical proximity to her that i felt elated when #people would tell me i look like her. that it meant i was also beautiful like her and maybe she'll love me a little for it #but now i know for a fact that i do look like her and it makes saliva swell under my tongue - that moment right before you throw up- #when people mention it 😍 #last time i was in capetown my optic neuritis flared up (and i know for a fact it was that it was ms-stress related from having to see her) #and i thought i hid it so well even though i had near constant headaches & lethargy until she said “katherine give me the red notebook” #and i knew that she knew all along. it was so acutely humiliating standing there and knowing she knows i cant see which one is the red one #and she tilted her head and said “whats the matter? do you not know what red looks like?” #im never going to have kids. my mother and i read eachother so well it can only mean im never too far removed from becoming her #lol!!!!!!!!!

[rox-of-iu]

Hey, just felt called to let you know that your MQF from SVSSS doodles give me such life and inspired how I write MQF in my fics. I love how you depict him and your art style is so refreshing and cute!

Just thought you should know. Hope you have a good day!

HELLO HI THANK YOU SO MUCH??? 😭😭😭💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 GLAD TO BE OF SERVICE HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY OR NIGHT

#THANK YOU ANON I WILL GO EXPLODE NOW #jbfkdjh #sorry for caps this actually means so much to me you have no idea #thank you for stopping by to tell me i really appreciate it 💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓😭 #my specialest little guy...........im so glad that ppl like him hes so dear to me #im literally in the middle of making myself a bag pin with mqf cuz i had to go 'fine i'll just do it myself' hahjkhfd #to be entirely honest i have made more small bits with him in the meantime and i have lots of bigger projects in mind with him but #i kinda hit an art funk this past month and felt p bad about my art in general #so not much posting have been posted and not much more even made #but this ask watered my crops and cleared my skin hdfjkdhfgkdf thank you #anyway cant post the older doodles cuz theyre tied to something thats still a wip and kinda embarrassing cuz im trying something new lol #but maybe ill post some lazy crumbs that i have and try to get back into arting #sorry for rambling this just made me really happy i need to explode something with my mind #i literally went to bed cuz its way past 1am here but then i noticed the notif and threw myself out of the bed lol #but now im going back to shreep #but anon im sending you good vibes and wish you good times with your fics :))) thankyou again for the kind words #asks

[arsenicflame]

Steddyhands for the ship ask game

thank u !!!!!

Send me a ship and I will grade it:

A: I love it

ha ive actually been having a really interesting conversation with my friend about this specific topic, in that, i dont really ship steddyhands? or thats how i feel about it anyway- i ship each couple individually at the same time, but i dont tend to imagine them doing things i consider couple things all together (i also recognise my stance on that is weird because ill still stick them in the same bed and maintain thats not couple activity) specifically the appeal of steddyhands to me is how each couple inside it plays off each other and provides fulfilment that the third person cannot!

Steddyhands, for me, is about not having to be everything for someone and that being ok :)

#i feel like thats a weird ass explaination of my stance on them #i say i ship steddyhands as shorthand and maybe /you/ think i ship steddyhands (which is fine!) but for me? #they never do things all together in my head! they work and relax in the captains cabin (and share the bed) together sure #but if they are going out and doing something they can literally never find something thats Good for all three of them. #they find it better to go do things as pairs that they share enjoyment of and for the third to get some personal time #(because thats so hard to come by on a boat) #the closest they get to me are port trips and still. in my head. one of them is having a rough time whenever theyre doing that #its not enjoyable for them!!!! they dont work as a three! they work better as three pairs!! #moving cogs all synced together but never meeting in the middle #nyxtalks #ask #ask game #yeah im answering the questions youre gonna get flavour text idk what to tell you. its me #this also turned into way more addition than i meant but i have been. thinking about this a lot recently!!!! #i acknowledge that. this is what most people would consider 'shipping them' to be but. its not the same to me! #its three separate couples that happen to make a loop; not a throuple. to me. its not the same as i feel abt other poly ships #but i rated them with the consideration that. i am wrong here :)

[glitchdollmemoria]

yknow the cool thing about having a ptsd induced bad dream is it gives me more motivation to go watch cozy movies and eat comfort food til i feel better

#after spending an hour in bed scrolling through tumblr waiting for my muscles to power on ofc #anyway little vent abt that ahead #no one has to read this ofc its really mostly just me working through it and processing it yknow #had a dream i was still involved with a couple people who are now gone from my life hopefully forever #also still dating my gf though? but he wasnt there :( #and we were in a uhaul or smth and were driving around and i felt very Uneasy #and like. i was actively in a flare up in that dream so the brain fog was making it harder to think clearly #so i felt very dumb the whole time #and so we drove through this like... pathway? with tall dark plants on either side #some kind of overgrown decorative shrubbery #and we were just chatting and i was trying to pretend i didnt feel uneasy #and then we came to this plant archway but the way was blocked by a bush about waist high #which. i have some particular feelings about that imagery. but idk if i wanna say it cus maybe im just being schizo #anyway we got out of the truck and left it there to go to the little restaurant cafe place we could see on the other side #and once we were inside we realized it was very clearly run by and for the jewish community which made me feel a bit better #so we sat at one table for a while i guess just to wait? then moved upstairs to another table to actually eat #and one of the people i was with started arguing with me and insulting me while the other one just kinda let him #bc he was like mad that i didnt tell him when to say a certain thing in a prayer i guess even though it was written on a thing on the table #and even though i was brainfoggy as hell and didnt know to expect that and he couldve looked himself and it DID NOT MATTER... #so i threw a metal thing holding the piece of paper at his head. #it kinda just bounced off him but then i walked off and he followed me and started beating me up lol #i woke up right as he started throwing punches. i think people were about to step in though #the weird thing is i think at the beginning of the dream i was ONLY with my current gf #idk how to word it but like. these other two just kinda barged right into the dream #anyway that dream is def Up There among dreams that i feel might have some deeper meaning but also not the MOST Up There #might delete later also bc The Paranoia #anyway! claps! time to watch old pokemon movies and eat pancakes

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

#sh tw #(implied - i know i didnt actually say it in the post but yes i did c** myself sunday) #100% секретный дневник левы НЕ ЧИТАЙ #im cursed with being a bit too self aware so #i think its compounded by my nepotism hire ... not letting me do my nepotism hire things #(for legal reasons i cannot say) #and then to add to that not letting me do anything I probably COULD actually do given slightly more instruction (at guard) #its just ... im a very angry person actually . except right now thats because im not EATING RIGHT EITHER #BECAUSE ALL OF MY PROBLEMS ARE COMBINING INTO ONE BIG INTERCONNECTED PROBLEM #back to my point. #guard instructors decided that for my first year i will not do anything cool because i'm not able to learn in about 2 seconds flat #[read: get very upset very quickly when i get things wrong and then . cant do them because im trying not to have a breakdown over] #[something REALLY STUPID like NOT BEING ABLE TO DO A SIMPLE TURN WHILE MOVING WITH THE FLAG] #so like okay. i get it okay. i'm not good at this. could you at least TELL ME i suck so i can feel justified about feeling bad about it. #could you just fucking tell me this isn't a guard where you can show up with no experience. could you do me a real solid and tell me that. #i dont know maybe the real sign it wasnt for me was when i was seriously considering not turning up for the second 'audition' #really i just hate how much he yells at us. not even at ME because i do so little there is no room to fuck it up. just at everyone else . #it doesn't motivate me to come back but i NEED 'friends' so bad and i love performing so now i just get anxious enough that i cant eat .. #.. before going to rehearsal. which is stupid. because i've done it a million times before. #...... #i'm just.... everyone says he isn't actually that bad. & he used to be worse. so it really is just me. #it's just me being oversensitive. because i've never had any REAL experience in ... just about anything #so; yes. it IS on me how I feel and obviously how I react. and I keep pushing it down because it's stupid; really; to still feel this way. #anyways. our last weekend without a competition is this very weekend #so you'll never guess who's having a REALLY FUCKING HARD TIME trying to practice #i'm like this close to going to bed early and without having done the dance warmup for the third day in a row. #лёва there is no TIME why are you STILL NOT PRACTICING for the love of god get it together #(oh also when i say 'friends' in quotes it is because i desparately want to believe we're friends but they dont even talk to me really) #(and because im not even IN most of the show theres not much to bond over. literally like i have everything down Decent enough (apparently) #so theres not even any 'i will help u with this toss' team bonding. no shared moment of we are all out of breath because i DONT DO ANYTHING

[suguann]

Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe. 

"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”

The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.

"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.

Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.

He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.

"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”

You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.

Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.

His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”

Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.

“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.

Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.

Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights. 

“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”

Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.

“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”

Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.

Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"

You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist. 

"Ah, fuck—b-but–"

Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach. 

"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.

Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.

He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."

The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”

Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.

Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo’s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.

Masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #.things i write #sorry if you're seeing this again #i had to repost #anime smut #jjk drabbles #jjk fic