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chrissshub · 2 years

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SORCERER DRIVE

༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ PAIRINGSؘ: Pervert Neighbor!Gojo Satoru x Fem!reader

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ WORD COUNT: 12.2k

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ CW: dubcon, noncon voyeurism, perverted themes, teasing, exhibtionism, groping, male masturbation, use of sex toy, talks of wet dreams, phone sex, implied voice kink, oral(f & m receiving) fingering, heavy clit play, slight themes of possessiveness (gojo just really wants you) public sex, multiple orgasms, begging, pussydrunk!Gojo, couch sex, pussywhipped!Gojo, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄XOXO, CHRIS: It’s finally here :))) Literally so proud of this fic. I put aside all my other wips for this and God, I’m just so excited to share it with you guys :P

˚ ༘♡₊˚ˑ༄ WANT MORE?ؘ

pt. 2 ft. Toji (TBD)

Sorcerer Drive.

It’s a quiet neighborhood away from the buzz of the city, casted away by freshly cut grass, swaying trees, and a piece of mind. The suburban street holds twelve pristine homes—no more and no less. Some of these homes hold couples, families, and even singles; all escaping from the hectic life of the city. Its occupants aren’t what many would call typical however, each life sharing in its vibrancy.

Sorcerer Drive is also home to one Gojo Satoru, the twenty-eight-year-old man of unhinged transparency. He’s kind, open with his home, his heart—and his intentions. He’s persistent, a little too persistent to get exactly what he wants. His signature ruse of soft words and sly manners are all cause for harm, stringing along one too many housewives during the days he had off.

He knows it’s wrong to invade but it’s the attention he seeks, longing to fill some hole in his iron-clad heart. Every woman he sets his eyes on can never really commit to Gojo, some wary of his hidden natures. His sought-out success is usually foiled by the first date, ruined by a degrading facet he can’t repress all that well. It’s unfitting for a man like him to act in such a way, unable to subdue his perverse ways.

As far as Gojo’s aware, he’s always been like this, falling apart in the presence of women. He can’t help it, the desire that sits deep within his belly. There’s something about a woman that throws all of Gojo’s coherency out the window and pulls his insatiability to mind. He’s dangerously in love with every quality of those who tease his eye. He can’t go without wondering how his latest muse would look beneath him.

Even in his neighborhood, his perverted tendencies still bled through his new persona. He’d stare at whatever crossed his way—the tops of breasts jiggling during the morning runs of the housewives, snapping pictures of the many panties slips creeping out from the shortest of dresses at cookouts, even shamelessly ogling at how the wives shower their husbands in kisses.

Block parties were his favorite, he’s cocky with the husbands but flirty with the housewives. He knows all the tricks to pull, what to say, where to touch playfully, just to simply chase some fleeting attention for those around him—solely to end with him gaining yet another enemy.

Yet, in the three years he’s lived in the quiet neighborhood, Gojo’s never known what the company of a woman can do for him. None have ever been welcoming of his antics, both bold and suggestive. He only thrives off what surrounds him, gathering his collective moments of joy.

And it’s been that tragic cycle for as long as he’s known…until fate pulled on his tattered string.

There’s a house before his own, a shade of a pretty blue with its complements of white. And for as long as Gojo’s lived on the street, it’s never known the feeling of holding life. However, it wasn’t until just a few days ago that the desperate call for company was answered, the pitted sale sign finally freed from its staked prison.

Upon sight of the sign’s removal, Gojo’s imagination hasn’t found rest. He could begin to think of who his mystery neighbor could be—though, he hoped for a beautiful woman without the strings of a relationship or a family. He hoped for someone who was free for bonds of a family, could take in him for all he was, perfections and flaws alike.

Even now, he’s found himself whisked into the fantasy world of his living room window, watching the gathering clutter of brown boxes on the lawn of the neighboring house. Why, Gojo’s bubbling with an excitement so rich, he’s abandoned the breakfast he’s worked so hard to prepare. The icy hues of his eyes linger along every corner of the opposing house’s window, desperate to gain some insight into his soon-to-be acquaintance.

It’s almost unlike Gojo to express such childish whimsy, his fair skin roused with a cherry bliss. The highs of his cheeks and ears share in the same reality, dusted in its whimsical pink glow. The trilling giggles roll from his tongue, warming the air in its purity. He’s never found himself in such a state as this one, unsure of what really brews in the back of his mind.

He knows it’s something. It could be the joy of having a new face in the neighborhood, one who has yet to learn of his true natures. It could be the mystery clouding around said face, though he prays it’s the woman of his dreams. Needless to say, his reaction is a mindless one, the spill of words riddled with the confusion of intrigue and lust.

“God, I think I’m in love!”

A strained groan cuts through the air, Gojo’s uttering met with his own resistance. He’s reluctant to give into himself but can’t find anything to do except that. There’s a chance that his inspiring thoughts could be for naught, only to be met with the harsh reality awaiting him. The thick digits of his hand strum through the pure white locks of his hair, paired with a fatal sigh breaking the air.

Whether he is right or wrong. Gojo knows he alone stands in the way of discovering the truth. It’s because of that realization that he can swallow down his nerves—and pride—to make the first move in the unofficial game of cat and mouse, peeling away from his kitchen window and slipping out through his back door.

That lone thought fuels him, knowing that has to uncover the mystery before anyone else gets their hands on his muse. Gojo simply had to make the first impression, gathering his abundance of confidence to stroll through his front door, large hands sinking deep into the pockets of his navy slacks.

Dizziness dots his sights with patchy stars and all Gojo can do is bear the grave thumps of his heart clogging his sanities. “So much for that dopey build of confidence, huh Satoru?” the sole muttering to pass through Gojo’s lips as the fog of doubt doubles in its weight.

It’s the possibility that his hopes could be shattered upon the reveal of who now dons the title of his neighbor. He knows his whims can’t manifest into the woman of his dream but maybe the universe can smile down on him just this once…right?

Gojo peels his hands from his pockets, allowing for the pad of his digit to linger over the small button of a doorbell for a moment. He’s already come so far for second thought, being overwhelmed by the sinister blend of intrigue and lust flourishing all too well in his veins. The pearly whites of his teeth sink into the plush of his lips as he takes in a final breath, his finger pressing gently against the doorbell.

In a matter of seconds, the white door rips open from its post, revealing to Gojo a sight for sore eyes. It’s a dream turned into reality as the door rips from its post, all of his whims manifesting before his blown eyes.

Gojo’s breathing it all in, the woman leaning against the door’s frame with an arm braced for balance. He can’t begin to comprehend his thoughts, the composure he’s lost within moments gone to the wind. The heavy thumps of his heart chime at his ears once more the longer Gojo stares at your disinterest, a frigid wash of nerves licking across his skin.

There’s uncaringness riddled in the hues of your eyes—— the annoyance of interruption bleeding through to your spoken words.

“Listen, for the last time, I just moved here. I don’t wanna sign up for the—oh…hello there.”

Gojo’s still stifled in his thoughts, the presence of you rendering him numb. He had yet to speak without removing his eyes from you, scanning down the luscious curves hidden beneath the silk black robe. He clings to a scene quite particular in his favor, the supple mounds of your cleavage spilling from the robe.

“Um…,” your tone soaked in tender concern, eyelids narrowing in sight at the stricken man, “You look a little red in the face, sir. Are you okay, do you need some water or–”

The sinister blend of intrigue and lust flourish all too well in his veins as Gojo’s hand rushes to cut the air, the brash attempt to hold contact with you.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, 28 years old and I live right there, across the street…from…you!” His cherry-tipped ears are met with the delight of a giggle, your soft palm slipping into his own.

“Nice to meet you, Gojo. I’m Y/N! Call me your new neighbor!”

Gojo nods at your words, battling his snowflake-like lashes. He’s managed to pull you into a senseless conversation about the neighborhood, linked hands losing their strength. Your burning questions should matter to him, but Gojo’s too enthralled at serving his palm passing glances, the tingling warmth dancing about his skin.

“Fuck, can’t wait to see if her hand’s this soft ‘round me. S’ soft and warm, just squeezing at every inch of me,” Gojo’s unfiltered thoughts wandering to unreached highs.

It’s lewd in the way Gojo thinks, his mind far more deranged than what he’s led to believe. A switch flicks in his brain, his pervasive tendencies edging to ruin what facade he’s worked so hard to withhold. He’s seconds into a cliché trial of small talk, but can’t ignore how puffy your lips get when his words pull a giggle from your chest, or how your fingers rattled along the frame mindlessly.

It has him pondering—imagining—how puffy your lips could become against his own, smothered in a mess of spit and sparse bites. His cock thumps at the lewd thought, hoping that one day your thumb would work the same mindless pattern along his blushed head as you do to the wooden frame.

And he has yet to address the way your legs cross in your leaned stance, his thoughts hinged on the bundle of warmth residing between the chub of your inner thighs. He, your robe highlighting the little bow of your panties imprinting itself through the thin robe. One wrong move and he’ll see it all, the fat lips of your cunt just barely fitted behind pesky sheets of fabric.

Yet he’s so desperate to maintain the peace that Gojo has no choice but to shed his immoral self, his laggard breaths setting onto a steady pace. A subtle shake of his head is all it takes for what moments he can get, following his way back into the closing conversation.

“Well, I hope to see you around, Gojo.”

Maddening is the only thing fit to describe Gojo’s state, desperately searching to earn a minute more of his presence. He simply couldn’t return home, at least not yet. How could he willingly turn back knowing that you—the woman of his dreams—existed within fifteen feet of his reach? He had to find a way to entrap you, ensure that he’d be the only man to ever enter the temple of your home.

“W-Wait! If you ever—and I mean ever— need me for an extra pair of hands, I’m right here…unless your husband isn’t okay with that?”

“Oh, that’s not gonna be possible…considering that I’ve been divorced for the past two years. But since you’re offering, I’ll call on you!”

Before the moment can end, Gojo digs into his back pocket, pulling his phone out as another conversational segway.

“Can I get your number then? Makes it easier for both you and me.”

Gojo watches as you take the phone from him, thumbs typing away at the ten digits needed. He studies the focus that shrouds your features, imprinting every detail he can take. The gentle coo of your voice breaks his concentration, does eyes of a frigid blue falling in line with you.

“Here you go, hopefully, you’ll get a call soon…Gojo.”

All you do is give Gojo a giddy smile as you place the device back into his palm, before waving goodbye, bringing the door in delayed haste. You don’t know what you’ve done by revealing that detail to Gojo, the man stiff with an impressional glee.

The limited interaction plagues Gojo’s mind for the day’s remainder, the evening rolling around through his feverish daze. It’s been ensnared in his brain longer than he’s anticipated, his lewd thoughts following him into the night’s shower.

Water droplets bloom against his skin, washing away the snowy suds of soap and a sliver of his day’s sins. Gojo believed he had a handle on himself as he showered—until the white noise of silence leads his troubled mind to stray. He can’t get over how perfect you are, your smile, your voice, down to how the robe just barely protected you from him. He’d be lying if he didn’t want to see more, remembering how his digits twitch with the absurdity to strip your body down to the beauty of bare skin.

It’s such a thought that Gojo couldn’t help himself, his cock strained with a painful urge. Each droplet of the showerhead’s water struck him heavier than the last. The whimpers that rip from his chest are nothing short of chilling disgust. He didn’t want to lace his shaky hand around the thick tip, sealing the spry nerves in an etching fist.

His need for release has him so weak, his body trusting the brace of his forehead against the gray tile. He can’t ignore the ghastly sensitivity his body is forced to endure. From the building steam clouding his tiled chamber, his robust shower gel slicking him a cold sheen, he’s nearly crumbled beneath his own mundane actions.

Did you have to dress so freely, innocently provoking the hellish terror residing deep inside Gojo’s stomach. The pulling gush has yet to suspend, its heat swelling at his balls. He can feel the bloat of cum growing heavier than he’s ever bared.

That’s why Gojo brings his eyes to a close, filthy scenes obscuring his mind with images of you naked on his bed. He can see everything so clearly it’s utterly shameful—those legs of yours parted just for him, dainty fingers working hard at the cute bulb of your clit. Gentle, soft enough to coax shivering pretty moans from your chest. Gojo’s mentally noting how your touch trails between your folds to your glossy slit, two fingers barely fitting inside.

The tips of his digits tease the inflamed head of his cock with whispy swipes, foamy bubbles of pre trickling past his worked knuckles. Yet the crippling sensation isn’t enough for Gojo, bringing the full brute of his strength to strum about his cock. He doesn’t even have time to admire how his veins rise to meet his touch, the overwhelming rush of blood causing his head to spin.

“Just like that, k-keep going,—fuck, you’re so tight!”

He’s hung on the sight of you, weakened hips hoisting into the air with the swift delves of your fingers scarcely stretching your slit. There’s no comparison in his mind, knowing that your digits could never reach as deep as his cock could. You’re just barely scratching the surface of your body as far as he believes, leaving so much untouched yet so much to be discovered. He can almost hear you too, his mind conjuring the sweetest coos he has but to indulge.

At that alone, Gojo’s body falls into a shuddering hunch, his back folding at the breathless stir in his lungs. His slender hand lays waste to his poor cock, careless strides roaming from base to tip. To Gojo’s demise, it’s all in vain. He can’t handle the recoils of his strokes, the insufferable drag towards the bed of messy white hair freeing breathless moans from his chest. Even the force he strived to maintain shattered in his hands, bare thighs bearing the rippling waves stinging at his balls.

“You’re gonna keep playing with that pretty pussy fr’ me, right? I—fuck—need you to, Baby…‘m so close!”

His precum’s sticky when it spreads further across the expanse of his cock, the vile squelches echoing in his ear. He only seems to be growing more within his hand, bigger, thicker, and farther from his envied high.

“Fuckfuckfuck, I wanna cum for you, Y/N! S’ bad! Wanna watch it drip everywhere, your tits, cute funny, all over your pussy! I j-just wann—“

The rushing spill of white rinses over Gojo’s hand, the beads of water rising away his sins. Through the huffs of his emptied lungs, he stands in dismay, watching every drop wither into the abyss of nothing. His hand softly smacks the wall of the shower, quivering lips muttering his final thoughts.

“You weren’t supposed to waste it, Princess. All my hard work…gone like that.”

Regret sets in as a sigh empties from Gojo’s chest, his weary hand turning the shiny valve. The water’s suspension seals the last of his misfortune, the man returning to reality when he steps from the glass chamber. Disgust doesn’t resonate with Gojo as he peers into his mirror, imprints of steam drifting across the glass. It’s a passing glance but one he’s dangerously proud of amidst strolling towards his dimmed bedroom.

His digits reach for the towels he’s laid across the mahogany duvets, the contrasting fibers grazing across his skin. Gojo’s inches from it before a sight like no other catches his greedy eye, eyelids parting in pure shock.

To his unfortunate luck, the windows of his bedroom peer straight into yours—one free of any coverage as of now.

It’s a sight he knows he’s too blessed for, your body sheathed in the plush towel of white. It’s clingy, hinged on every curve of your figure. A squint is forced upon Gojo as he focuses on you, watching the faint sheet of fluff unravel at a single tug. Lust consumes him, clouded hues gawking at the plump swells of your chest and the curves of your physique, all set in his untimely direction.

Gojo’s hand settles over his chest, hardened pads drifting down to his flittering abs. He can’t believe it, how dumb you could be to allow a man like him to gaze at the divine physique of your body. A feeble pry claws at Gojo’s fading will, pulling him to fall onto his bed.

He gives you one final glance before whimpering out his distressing plea.

“Look at you, so close but so far…’nd you’re so perfect.”

His hand slips into the top drawer of his bedside, the shameful shell of his beloved pocket pussy falling into his grasp. Was it wrong of Gojo to get off to his explicit thought once more? Even going as far as to use what scene he had of you for entertainment?

Why...of course not.

His digits race to greet his mouth, the makeshift cup pooling with his spit. All it takes is a single rushed stroke to coat his length in the threaded gloss, eagerly nuzzling the slit of the toy over his own.

He’s swift to feed the growing impatience, pulling the toy to loosely hang around the tip of his cock. Sensitivity aided in his hand, the stings of the recent orgasm lingering at the forefront of his brain. Everything’s still clouded to Gojo, the blinding pulls along his girth to bring him to the present.

It soon became a harsh pill to swallow, that pit in his stomach deepening. He’s studying how the toy’s lips spread around his cock, the scene shrouding a haze of disgust over him. It’s nothing as he wishes it to be, no warmth, no gush, no heavenly moans begging for him to slow down. The feeling’s merely sinking deeper in Gojo’s mind, his body falling flat onto the bed at last.

“S-Shit…it’s not tight enough—fuck!”

His grip couldn’t afford to be any more endearing, his throbbing cock engulfed in a numbing squeeze. In truth, Gojo wasn’t sure what he was so desperate for, giving aim to an unsure goal. His hand could squeeze, swivel, and pull at his shaft all they wanted, but nothing can ever compare to the anticipation of having you clamped around him, struggling to take each fattened inch. He has yet to comprehend what has his hips jolting to meet the toy’s sad excuse for a cervix, or why his lust for you brought along gravitating rivers of sweat to lave across his scorned body.

“I-I can’t even– it’s no good, ‘m not gonna cum when the real thing is right there,” the summoning of Gojo’s desperate call to awaken. He’s aggravated with urgency, anxious to cum, but all the while, can’t commit to chasing the sweet high. The wretched pocket pussy gets paid a mere gaze, only to be ripped off his twitching cock with strings of glimmering precum in tow.

He wants to be the bigger person, to shut his own blinds out of respect...then again, Gojo isn’t that kind in both morals or character. Laying in his own misery, he stole a few gaps at you, grinning at how the night’s attire of a white tank and pink panties suited you best.

Amidst his gaudy oglings, sleep edges at his mind as heavy eyelids follow in the sun’s setting path. Gojo giggles to himself before mouthing off once more, ensuring that his mischievous dreams, and desires would soon manifest in his hands.

“Pray for the day I get my hands on you, Y/N. I swear I’m never letting go.”

Those words loom over Gojo’s head for the duration of the week, serving as a reminder to him. Why, he has to be on his best behavior for you, pitting all his perverted mannerisms to rot. During the day, he catches you on your daily expedition to the mailbox for idle chatter. It’s a fleeting few minutes but Gojo learns more and more about you. Within the days he’s caught your attention, he’s learned about your occupation, your favorite foods, and films.

He’s saving all these trivial exchanges for a certain day—like today— for when Gojo crosses your path again, a day written by the Gods themselves.

Since he had the chance to meet you, Gojo’s thoughts have revolved around you and only you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your nose scrunches while deep in thought—all of it, Gojo’s been hung up on. His days are spent on you, thoughts and imagination dedicated to you and you alone. He can’t help but reminisce on the minutes he’d spend with you, the mere trade of words igniting a hidden facet in his heart.

He’s unsure of what to call it, the very thing that hinders his day-to-day life as of late. He’s too intrigued to call it a crush but wouldn’t dare tread the lines of obsession. It’s a conflicting matter for one such as him, one that tests every fiber in Gojo’s being.

He’s never been so attentive to someone other than himself before, his interest in you surpassing the field of lust alone. He can spend hours just thinking about you, how you smiled at him the first time with such care, how you made him melt beneath your gaze.

He isn’t one to form connections, attachment never did serve the man well. Though, at the face of your arrival to the neighborhood, Gojo’s once paraded lifestyle now hints at the inevitable downfall. He’s suddenly frantic for your attention, yet shied away from his sprouts of self-doubt. He’s afraid to admit just how much he wants you, to have you around him at every waking moment.

For now, he resorts to the method he knows best, taking to his living room window to catch every rare appearance you’d make. Whether it be you walking down to the mailbox, discarding the next round of moving boxes, or simply stepping out to watch the sunset, Gojo sought to capture it all.

But today brings its own fruits of bliss, providing Gojo with the hand-delivered game of chance. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, you hoisting the next batch of trash out to the front lawn.

Yet, there’s something different in him, Gojo pinned to his favorite place amongst his living room window. Sure, he’s observing as you drag the next ensemble of boxes behind your heels, but that’s not what has his attention piqued.

He should be used to it by now, all the short outfits you’ve flaunted to the outside world. But nothing could compare to the pure lamb white tank and matching skirt adorning your curves. He can’t seem to take his eyes away from the cute pout breaks across your visage.

A furrowed brow, lips fostering a glossy pout and puffy cheeks limp with fatigue all entice Gojo to lengths even he can’t comprehend. He can tell you need some guidance, someone to tell you where to go from there.

Gojo’s more inclined to stand to his feet now, strolling to his front door once again. The sweep of deja vu settles onto him is chilling, the same cycle of steps repeating themselves. Just like the day he’d recognized your presence, Gojo can’t do anything but approach you with careful steps.

He’s brought to the scene in the lewdest of ways—you bent over the growing batch of folded cardboard. It doesn’t help that his ear picks up on every feeble whimper that escapes from your mouth, the clear frustration written in your voice. He is undoubtedly without shame as his gaze graces your body, grinning at how your panties tease past the edge of your skirt.

You’re so cute like this, too caught up in your own little world to notice Gojo’s staggering build towering behind you. He could stay like this forever, watching as you continuously shift through the clutter.

As pure as it’s intended, sin never lurks too far when it comes to Gojo. His hands slip into his pockets without delay, stretching the fabric of his navy slacks to conceal the growing bulge. It’s not his fault your skirt falls so short of you, but he isn’t one to complain either. The sight only triggers that devious side of him, firing all sorts of thoughts to cloud his tainted brain.

Gojo knows he can’t get ahead of himself, not when he still has to maintain his fragile impression around you. All it takes for a single huff of air to crowd Gojo’s lungs for him to speak at last, the spiteful smirk embedded behind his words.

“Quite the mess you’ve got here. The recycling truck only comes once every other week, y’know.”

The bit of insight he offers is enough to pull your attention elsewhere, your head whipping around to meet his lidded regards.

“Oh, hi Gojo! I know, right?! It’s even more of a mess inside too!”

Gojo takes the chance to close the distance, leaning over your hunched form gradually. His head falls into a timely tilt, allowing him to breathe in the shift in nature befalling you. Suddenly, ripples of blinks overtake your eyelids, lips faltering to hold fast to the pretty pout. He seals your brash flusters with the soft hum of his voice, the warmth of his breath fanning across the tip of your nose.

“Well…aren’t you gonna ask me for help? I do remember saying I’d be here to give you an extra pair of hands for all your…problems.”

There’s a silence falling amongst you both, the eyes of you two falling into a blurred line. Gojo’d be lying if he said he didn’t succumb to you too, the exterior of smug pride crumbling with each second. Sure, Gojo has you stifled in your steps, forced to endure the sweltering heat of his stare—but he’s the one that suffers in the end. Waves of heat strum throughout his body, laying claim to the highs of his cheeks and ears alike. His chest lags in the slightest of breaths, the uneven pace coming to light.

His ears perk at the aimless whimpers spilling from your mouth, ensuring that your body shares in the same symptoms—uneased breaths, flares of heat, and uncertainty pitted deep within your belly. He wants to reach out, hoping his hand could bring you down from the fluttering gates of nirvana. It takes for the tiny squeak of your voice’s inquiry to break the fallen silence.

“Can you…help me fix the inside…please? I’d appreciate it so much!”

“ ‘Course I will! Just lead the way, beautiful!”

You offer Gojo a pleasant nod before turning from him, dainty hands clutching at your chest. Within a matter of moments, he’d so easily brought you to your knees. From his sly grin, his overwhelming allure, down to the very way he seems to keep a specific look for you, Gojo could just as easily have you wrapped around his finger should he say the words.

“Over there, I need the most help in the kitchen,” your hand pointing in the appropriate direction as you close the door behind him.

Gojo encounters your sights for a brief moment more, a toothy grin spreading itself thin as he explores your home. Finally, he has you to himself, free from any wandering eyes to be found along the block.

“It’s nice in here, Y/N. I see you like the finer things, just something else we have in common.”

“Thanks, but wait till everything’s in place, finish cleaning and arranging…it’s gonna be great!”

You pay Gojo one final glare of amusement, the teasing stares pulling you both towards the unkempt vast of the kitchen. There’s a certain set of cabinets that call your attention, the blanched wood doors wide in welcomes your gaze. Your finger points to the plates before you, recalling the details of Gojo’s task.

“Since you’re tall, can you put the plates up in the cabinet? I’ll put the pots and pans in the lower cabinets.”

A cheeky smile is all it takes for Gojo to oblige, breaking his looming stare to tend to his assignments. Though, as much as Gojo wants to help you out, he truly can’t. Within the placement of one plate, his focus finds means elsewhere, those blue eyes hinged on you beside him.

How could he carry on such a leisure task when he has you so close to him, the curve of your ass just hugging at the thighs of his pants. There’s so much to unfold and too much for him to ignore—the bend consuming your body revealing more than he deserves. The warmth of your skin pecks at his skin, a thrill of heat surfacing to your touch.

You’re soft against him, brushing a silky plush donning the title of your skin. He just doesn’t get it, why must your skirt be so short teasing the whims of a man like himself? He wants to look away, savor the time he’s been given with you thoughtfully…

But damn it all when you dip forward to better your reach, the silhouette of your cunt sucking through the thin inseam of your black lace panties. For a moment—just a brief moment—Gojo’s blessed with the delicate curves of your clothed pussy.

It’s tantalizing to him, pulling his mind to an unmatched euphoria. His mind is swift to flood with his lewd thoughts, hoping that one day he hopes to endure the forbidden sight of your cunt’s lips splitting around his cock.

“Oh fuck!” his inner thoughts coming to light. He’s swift to conceal the slip of his words with a cough, the deep draw straining his throat. It’s enough for you to jolt, bouncing back onto your feet to tend to Gojo.

“Gojo! Wait, I’ll get you a cup of wat—”

Before you can even think, the brash pads of Gojo’s hand lace your dainty fingers into his own. He pulls your hand to the plush pink curves of his lips, placing a lingering peck along your laxed knuckles. His free hand slips to fill the small of your back, pulling you to crash against the chest of his black sweater.

“Well, well well, look at you, racing around to help little ole’ me…just knew you were perfect fr’ me.”

His eyes flicker over you once more, a rush of thrill licking at his skin. The question he has is heavy, sits a little too heavy on his chest. That’s why he has to say it—to free himself of his one true desire.

“Let me take you out…tonight. I can show you around town, show you all my favorite spots and more.”

“A date? Already? We just met, Gojo…I don’t…”

A cast of hesitation settles onto you both, a tension so thick that neither of you could withdraw. Gravity condemns you to his side, body falling prey to Gojo’s allure. There’s something about the man that compels you, the saccharine tone of persuasion dripping from his voice. He could put you in a trance and you’d be at his every whim, that alone serving as your conclusion.

“Okay, pick me up around seven. I’m kinda tired of being surrounded by so many boxes and dust.”

Gojo presses a final kiss onto your knuckles before breaking away from you, an indescribable elation written across his features.

“I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll make the night worth your while.”

With that, Gojo left from your side, unable to wipe the stupid grin from his face. A date with the woman of his dreams, the thought alone pulling nervous flutters from his heart.

Through a passing glance, he manages to catch a glimpse of the digital clock embedded in the stovetop: 4:30 pm.

From the moment he left your home and entered his own, ensuring your good favor was all that weighed heavy on Gojo’s mind. He simply had to win you over, knowing that you too shared some interest in him.

It’s the first time in a long time that Gojo’s felt this way, endowed to someone other than himself. In Gojo’s eyes, to have you is to have all the riches in the world. He knows there’s something so different about you, something that sets his body aflame.

That’s why in the hours he has left to prepare for the impromptu date, he puts in all the effort to become the best version of himself. From grooming his closet for the finest outfit—stone gray slacks, a mauve silk button, and his favorite set of leather black loafers— picking up a bouquet of white roses for good measure, and rushing to arrange reservations at the nearest restaurant a few block away, Gojo knew he’d have to use all the tricks in his arsenal to eventually call you his one day.

By the time seven did set in, Gojo brought himself to stand right outside your door, wearing that stupid smile once more. The nerves have yet to settle beneath his fair skin, flairs of red ripping across his cheeks and ears alike. Before he can bring his finger to press the small button, deja vu befalls Gojo again.

He’s welcomed by the sight of you, dressed in an orange satin mini dress. His eyes hang upon every inch of you, the dress’ low cut neckline especially appealing to Gojo’s taste, coaxing the corners of his lips to tease with a smirk.

He hands you the bundle of florals carefully, allowing his fingers to graze along your own for a moment. Gojo lets his head fall into a tilt, plush lips of pink curving as he watches your expression bloom into a whimsical grim.

“Don’t you look perfect? The color suits you, Gorgeous.”

“Aw, why thank you! But first…tell me where we’re going…please?”

“Like I said, I wanna show you around. There’s a nice restaurant a few blocks from where we’re walking to, I think you’ll like it.” He lets his hand fall from the bouquet to brush along your waist, the mere weight of his touch drawing you to rest against his chest. The pinning force melds within his heart as he’s finally introduced to your body’s warmth, a subtle sigh escaping from his lungs.

“Let’s get goin’ I wanna spend as much time with you as I can…y’know, being a gentleman and all.”

The words Gojo utters aren’t so much spoken for your liking, as they are to him—a reminder of the persona he wears tonight. And for the night, he swore to maintain his composure, to keep his dangerous thoughts away in order to hit every mark with you.

A final glance of exchanges takes its place between you both before the journey begins, Gojo leading with you by his side.

“Gojo…who lives in that house?” you hand motioning towards the passing house. Gojo’s eyes fall into a squint, a scoff trailing from out his lips at the realization.

“Oh...that’s Toji Fushiguro. I heard he’s in his forties and lives alone in the house. But, he’s someone you should stay away from, especially when you’ve got me,” he teases, using all his efforts to distract you from Toji’s burning stare.

Your eyes linger on him for a moment longer, such imbues of green searing into your memory. He’s not one to forget, the man lounging upon his porch with a smoke in hand. His eyes are murky with an unseen objective, the lingering leer fading away with a salacious wink doused in trouble. A gasp escapes from your lips at his notion, intrigue bubbling high among your sentiments.

“He seems interesting, though…” the last review you give Toji before he’s out of sight.

It isn’t long before you reach the restaurant, the soft twinkle of lights meeting your eye. The quaint establishment holds no more than a few, the other patrons spread thin across the restaurant floor. You and Gojo found yourselves towards the back, a table free from the immediate presence of others.

The tension between you both is one of a thickened atmosphere, both of you itching to solve the mystery of each other. Rather than ask Gojo your burning question, you wait an assured time without interruption, the opportunity presenting itself minutes after the waiter receives the orders of dinner.

You find yourself pulled towards Gojo, his speechlessness creating an aura of enticement for your favor. Your eyes suffer the weight of intrigue, eyelids heavy with an underlying taunt of lust. Your hands fold beneath your chin for support, the gradual silence coming to an end.

“Tell me Gojo, why are you single? You’re such a handsome man with a really smooth personality, it honestly shocks me that you are.”

Gojo’s hand rises from the white tablecloth, slender rubbing at the point of his chin. It’s a question he’s addressed but has yet to confront the clauses of such an inquiry. He knows the answer through and through but knows he’ll scare you—the woman he’s been waiting for— away. But he prays you’ll understand him, understand why he is the way he is and accept all that came with him. He gives you one wavering glance before replying, a hefty sigh guiding the spill of words.

“Why am I single?...it’s more than what you’d believe, Princess. I’m not all that…accepted, to put it shortly. And I can’t be with someone who doesn’t accept all of me, right?”

Eager to close the distance, Gojo pits himself inches from you, a lazy stare lurking across your placid visage. You’re eager for an answer, that much is enlightened to Gojo through the thick shroud of silence. He grants your burning question with another facer to be uncovered, the question rolling off his tongue with sinful ease.

“Can you accept all of me? All it takes is a date to know if you wanna put up with someone…so does that same ideal—Oh, look at that, I dropped my fork.”

You watch as Gojo sinks beneath his seat towards the burgundy carpet. All’s quiet for the seconds your date spends hidden underneath the table…all until the vibrations of your phone earn your distant attention. Bringing the call to your ear, your voice leads the conservation with a shushed giggle, your head tilting in a blissful delight.

“Is there a reason you’re calling me from under the table, Gojo?”

“Of course there’s a reason, I want you to hear everything I have to say…”

The tips of Gojo’s digits brush along the prominent curve of your thigh. A heft of warmth follows his breath as he inches towards you, brimming your skin with a chilling lick of desire. It’s almost embarrassing for you to admit, the swirling flame crowding at the dormant bulb of your clit. There’s a prowling heat that consumes your cunt, the plunging weight wedged between your poor walls. A bare squeak rips from your lungs, only to fade beneath the barrage of Gojo’s speech.

“You asked why I’m single, it’s true that no woman has really accepted me…but there’s more to it. I’m a mess when it comes to love, I let lust run as high as my heart and no one has really kept up with me because of that. As for you, my pretty girl…you’re so cute, so perfect for me to ruin. From the moment we met, I just knew you were the woman of my dreams. There’s something hidden deep within you—and I wanna be the one to bring it out.”

“So then, you wanna–”

“I wanna lose myself in you. Touch you, kiss you, call you mine, I just want you so bad it hurts.”

You can’t comprehend how fast Gojo’s fingers sneak beneath your dress to tug at your panties. Then again, you can’t begin to comprehend how fast you’ve fallen at his pleas, your thighs breaking from the harsh clasp for his head to fill the space. It’s the anticipation that has you this wet, what has your skin inflamed with spry nerves, the thrill of Gojo indulging in your pussy within the company just surrounding the promiscuous atmosphere.

The plea laced behind his pants brought along a course of thirst throughout your body. You can’t wait for it, the soft heat of his tongue dragging through your folds, strides of spit melting with your nectar, the moans pried from the depths of his chest. The thin cloth suddenly grows to be an annoyance, your hips bucking to wedge the cinched waistband from its post.

“Please…please, let me do it. I just wanna make you feel good, just me and me only.

“Fuck, Gojo, I–”

At the sound of your voice, Gojo finally allows himself to falter in your stead, shedding the kind persona he’d donned for the night. His fingers tug the pesky panties of yours down your legs, the limp white cotton bunched at your ankles. His touch drifts further across your body, a gentle rattle against your skin forcing your thighs apart.

Gojo can’t resist it any longer, the vast of his palm breaking from your thigh. The tips of fingers trace the curves of your cunt’s lip in tease, parting the plushy mounds to reveal the ness awaiting him. The sticky unclasp echoes in his ears, a hiss of resistance cutting through the air.

He’s met by the salacious mess of your pussy, the puffy lips breaking from the sticky hold. It’s more than he expected, the glossy strands of your essence dripping from the hood of your clit. The patterns dresses your pussy in a delicate manner, fragile strands illuminating your folds. Yet what teases at that ache deep within his stomach was your slit, soapy flutterings gasping to be filled. The threads string across the silky sheets are diamondlike, glimmering even in the dimmest of light.

“Look at how much of a mess you made fr’ me, Baby—fuck!— clit’s so damn cute under my fingers. Bet you wanna cum real bad…but not yet. Not until I play with you, alright?”

All you can do is whimper out your transgressions to Gojo, the cry of urgency muted by your cupping hand. He’s so gentle with his touch, the calloused pads of his fingers drifting along the glistening folds to reach your clit. He’s so gentle that it’s teasing, laying a fluttering trail to swirl about the pearl. Why, he’s so gentle that it's taunting, your hips reeling from his touch. Yet, all you earn is a huff from Gojo through the phone, his sloppy grip bracing your hip.

“Don’t do that, just gonna make you cum harder now, y’know.”

You don’t know it just yet, that side of Gojo that can alone uphold his honor. The side that keeps his word, ensuring that he’ll follow through on his part. The same principle applies to you all the same. It’s why he can bring his tongue to your frail slit, dragging that slippery ingraining stride through your folds—just to strike the raw bulb of your clit. The whimpers, gasps, and moans all fill Gojo’s ear, spitefully pawing at his ego. It fuels him to pursue further endeavors to test you.

“So pretty, Baby. Gonna let me kiss that pretty clit too, aren’t you?” his voice tapering across your roused skin. “Now relax, let me suck your clit, ‘kay?”

His words pull at your body’s temperament, releasing a wave of frigid heat to shroud your pussy. The plush mounds of his lips lay soft kisses against your clit, teasingly sealing the hood between each peck. At first, it isn’t noticeable, just the puffy seal of his lips enveloping the perked bud.

The gradual pull of your clit that alerts you, the streamlined squelching suckles pinned on the raw nerves. He’s even managed to make a mess of you, returning spools of spit dripping from his pursed hold over your clit.

The slobbering unclasp of his lips chime through the call, the lewd symphony strumming through your lips. His fingers cup at your cunt, parted digits placing gentle pulsing squeezes along your clit. Gojo pulls back for a moment, hungered eyes taking in the beautiful fixture he’d made out of your pussy.

“Mhm, that’s it, good girl, relax fr’ me. I think I’m falling in love with your pussy—tastes so good.”

“Oh m-my God!! Fuck Gojo, y-you can’t say it like that!”!

“Aww, but it’s the truth. Your pussy s’ good and fuck… twitching against my tongue like that. You’re so needy, Angel…gonna make you cum real soon.”

Just as he promised, the final clasp of his swollen lips brings about your downfall, the mind-shattering orgasm milking at your worth. A chain reaction breaks across your body, claiming your lungs in a breathless gasp. It’s heavy, the insufferable burden pulling the hull of your chest to the surface. Your legs know no bounds either, the innermost plush threatening to smother Gojo.

He repels himself from you before harm could arise, dragging the flat of his tongue along his plump lips. Pride boils at the forefront of Gojo’s mind as he returns to his seat, wearing a nonchalant smile in your presence. He knows what’s passing through that fuzzy mind of yours, the hues of lust and curiosity melding into one. The look of widened eyes, high eyebrows, and an agape mouth tell Gojo all he needs to know as he sets his phone down onto the white tablecloth: you’re curious.

The questions of what he can do to you fill up your mind, latent desires grooming at the surface of your skin. Gojo’s awakened something inside you, something that can’t quite be transcribed into words. It’s heat, a warmth so fierce that it grows with impatience.

The longer you return his gaze, the heavier the flames weigh on your mind. It entraps your entire body in a trap of heat, the inescapable urge swirling deep within your shuddering tummy. Suddenly, a single demand falls from your lips without regret in sight.

“Gojo, I really…um…I really wanna go now.”

“Aww, but we haven’t even eaten yet. I guess we can—

“Take it to go? We can do all that at the reception table. So can we…go…now?”

Gojo falls back in his seat as he stares at you, hiding a growing grin behind with the single thought looming above.

He’s got you. Exactly where he wants you, a hot and rowdy mess falling before his very eyes.

In response to his goal being met, Gojo stands up straight from his spot on the chair. His hand falls from its hold as a makeshift shield, presenting both his beckoning call and grin to you.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

Leading you back home was nothing short of thrilling to Gojo. He studies you with a watchful eye, how you dropped your walls for the likes of him. It’s not vulnerability in the slightest but a taste of a life he’s always sought for. And here you come, providing him an earnest peek at that softer, susceptible side of you.

Your touch welcomes him, warms his heart to a point as he bears your dainty hands clinging to his sleeve. He’s exposed to this soft side of you by the soft nudge of your kisses, his cheek covered in trailing pecks as he struggles to pay for the night’s incomplete outing.

Gojo can’t help but fall prey to you, his heart set aflutter with skipping pangs. He finds himself returning your endearing favors, catching your lips in a kiss every so often. His touch vacates anything formal, fitted perfectly along your lower back to squeeze at the swell of your ass.

All the formalities Gojo should have maintained fell from his arsenal with every passing minute it takes to reach your home, the quaint house welcoming both your heavy hearts. He’s clinging to you, a hand pulsing at the plush of your waist and the other occupied with the bag of forgotten dinner.

“Do you…” Gojo begins, his smirked lips curling at the shell of your ear. “Need help with the keys?

His digits drift along the flushed skin of your forearm, lacing around your palm to aid in the envied endeavor.

“Just one last turn and…that’s the click. Now…push open that door if you don’t want the neighbors to see.”

Your body’s compelled to fall to Gojo’s words, entering through to the door with crazed haste. As the door falls shut, there’s a break in the tension, a moment for your mind to return to some state of coherency. Your first instinct is to walk, to separate for just a step. But it’s his swiftness you overlook, how quick he comes over to tower over you.

The hull of Gojo’s chest harbors a heavy tune, scattered breaths melding through you. His arm travels across your hips, laxed fingers creating lazy pleats along the hem of your dress.

“No, no, no…I finally have you to myself, Pretty girl. Where do you think you’re goin’ ?”

Your eyes cower with obligation dotting the blurred hues of your eyes. You can’t refuse Gojo, not with the pulling attraction guiding your heart thus far. Especially when he towers above you like this, the heat of his encasing you whole. There’s almost a compelling force, something bringing you onto your toes to close the distance. Your lips just barely brush past his own, the puffy heat teasing you with an invite.

“I’m…—!”

Gojo’s lips meet your own, the intoxicating smother of heat exhausting remnants of your energy. It’s intoxicating, how fixed you’ve become to his touch. There isn’t a moment to falter. Your lips cling to his own, such supple curves desperate to match the careful weaves he guides you through.

Languid trudges usher you and Gojo to the living room, smothered bodies collapsing onto the black leather cushions. He pulls you to warm his lap, hands steady along your hips. He’s so insistent to close any distance that keeps you both apart. It’s why his hands are sent clutch at your dress, tugging at the silk to pull right over your head.

Clothes continue to sprinkle across the room, piles upon piles falling to the abyss surrounding the lucid scene. His lips return to adorn your body, mindless pecks falling into the crook of your neck. His kisses bring about a rouse beneath your skin, each press of his lips earning a rush of blood to greet him. The trails of his affections fall prey to the valley of your chest.

Truth be told, he’s been dying for this, to touch you in ways only he could. His digits cup at the delicate swells of your tits, entrapping the hardened peaks in between.

“You’re so beautiful, Baby. So fucking beautiful.”

His eyes refuse to falter from yours, clinging to the sight of ecstasy as his lips seals your nipple away with the expanse of his mouth. A moan rips from Gojo’s chest, deeming him to have a senseless sense of self. Control isn’t something attainable in his current state, the man drunk off you.

Everything about you is heavenly, your warmth, your company, the pretty whimpers you make as Gojo’s tongue whisks around the puffy peaks lazily. He’s squeezing your tits softly, serving as his reminder of just how explicit everything’s become.

It’s not until you find yourself relaxing in his hold that you realize just how much you do to Gojo, bare lips of your cunt splitting around something hard.

“You’re so hard, ‘Toru. Does it hurt?”

“Mhm,” he hums, breaking away from the slobbering mess he’s made of your tits. “I really wanna feel those lips ‘round me, can you do that for me? Please?”

You offer him an enthusiastic nod, sinking onto your knees before his trembling thighs. The plush espresso carpet cradles the curve of your knees as you adjust, placing your lithe fingers along his abre thigh. But it’s the sight before you that stirs the brew of butterflies deep within your belly, coaxing a piercing shock to widen your hazy eyes.

Gojo’s big. Not just in his towering stature but right between his legs all the same. Your eyes are welcomed by the pretty plush of his cock, the tanned fat sitting pretty against his thigh with miserable want. The girthy shaft blooms with inflamed hues of green and blue. The thickest of veins are free from such imbues, too roused to don any single tint. Your eyes trail to the head of his cock, greeted by the bullying fury of reds. The tip weeps an uncontrolled sob of greed, the blushed adorning a smear ring of his precum.

Your lips falter at the scene, a pool of spit budding just beyond sight. Gojo’s hand cups the back of your neck, rattling a gentle pace of encouragement to soothe your nerves. It’s kind encouragement, his efforts allowing for your lips to part for his girth. A gentle kiss lays upon his slit, staining the pout in his essence. The throbbing pulse of his cock is hot against your lips, beckoning you to place yet another peck.

Your mouths with every bit to be covered, gradually slipping the fat head to sit snug between your suckling lips. It’s soft, pulling at the mere surface of the swelled tip. Your tongue even peeks for a moment, wavering along the underside all too teasingly in faint swipes. Gojo winces at the sensation, tingling with a striking thrill. His fingers find work at the nape of your neck once more, playing an uncoordinated tune upon your skin.

“You…You know what to do, take it all in your mouth fr’ me, Baby.”

Mindlessly, you lose to his imminent demand, your eyes suffering under the influencing weight. Your head strums along Gojo’s length without care, the throbbing head pecking at the back of your throat. The sensation’s nothing short of brutal, brash strikes threatening to pursue deeper lengths. Your ears help ease what coherency remains, hinged on the pretty crumbling moans ripping from his chest.

Gojo’s hot-blooded spree of lust carried you through the consistent hollows of your lungs, begging for just a lick of air. He’s desperate for it, to use your poor mouth like his favorite toy— so warm, wet and even tighter than his fist could ever begin to achieve.

But little does Gojo know, it’s more of a strain on you than him.

It’s a struggle, a harsh journey to endure to please Gojo. He’s far from the concept of silence, but there’s more dying to fly off his chest. He’s feeling it, courtesy of his jutting hips reckoning to reach the plump cling of your lips. The pitiful whimpers tell you all that’s known about his crumbling state. You want to deliver that taste of irresistible heaven to him.

Your hands migrate from the loose casing formed around his cock to his thighs, the pads of your digits settling into place. The thoughts swirl at the forefront of your mind. It had to be thoughtless, free of any worry, care, or restraint. If you faltered for even a moment, the teasing would be ripped right from the hands of Gojo.

You pull your lips to rest at the fat head of his cock, head tilting to greet his drowsy eyes. He’s high off his anticipation. Sweat works across his body, bringing the white locks of his hair to stick to his forehead. But more attaches onto Gojo’s fleeting persona, the glints of his own vulnerability coming to light. It’s present in how he looks at you, lust melded with the forbidden glints of genuine peeking through the haze. A chilling sight at first glance, a forced endeavor to endure at his whim.

His hands cup at the chub of your cheeks as an unknown comfort, his thumbs swiping at the polished highs with a look of intrigue. His tongue curls with a lax pull, putting the ramble of words to flood the air.

“W-why are you so…fucking pretty?... Hm? Can’t even look at me straight b-but you look s’ perfect just like this.”

A muffled moan vibrates about the inflamed crown from your throat, barely processing the praise to rattle off Gojo’s tongue. Your mind’s numb to it, the brisk descent of your lips down Gojo’s cock. Bubbly foams of spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth, only to be brushed away by the lewd gurgle brewing in your throat.

It’s sloppy and messy, taking all of him in one swift notion. And you know it’s working, your eyes peering up at Gojo Through the thick gather of your lashes. He’s singing a song so passionate it simply can’t be hidden, head nicked between his shoulder blades with the ball of his adam’s apple sent awry.

Gojo doesn’t mean to be mean, ripping his cock from your jaw destructively. He’s sure you aren’t aware of all you’ve done to him in a matter of seconds, your tongue nipping at the heavy bloat of his balls. A few moments longer and he’s sure you would’ve milked him of all he’s had. He hopes you’ll appreciate it as an apology, his strong arms wrapping around your waist.

He pulls you onto his lap, digits latching onto your chin once more. He doesn’t take a second to acknowledge your ruined state, crashing his lips against your own. It’s heavy, the press so rich it’s almost dizzying. His tongue curls along with yours, draping the flat laggardly. That’s all he does before breaking from your lips, falling back onto the couch’s plush backing.

“S-Shit…did such a good job…I want you—really fucking want you— to use me, ride me, fuck that pretty lil’ pussy on me!”

“O-Okay…just let me do it.”

A small hand disappears between the clash of bodies, in your palm holds the head of Gojo’s cock. He’s wet, slick with the fruit of your labor. It’s just enough to press the slit at your own, your hips lifting to a degree. Timing is all you need, the time to raise your hips just enough to prepare, fueling the frantic sink onto his cock.

Yet, you couldn’t have really prepared for Gojo, not with how much harder he’s become with you in his grasp. His cock’s brimmed with spry nerves, prickling with a fiery heat. It’s that same heat that keeps your walls from fluttering, sending the rich burn to nip at your poor entrance.

“OhmyGod, you’re so—”

“B-Big? I know, it’s all for you, baby…”

Your hips are caught in a bind, stubborn to move from their cocooning state. It takes for gentle rocks of Gojo’s hips to relax you, your hips rising voluntarily. He’s easing those walls of yours to a point, pushing past your sweet spot dumbly. You almost give him the full right to control in those moments, your body growing limp in his hold.

Right until you start to question it, the privilege to ruin your date by your means. He’s right there for the taking. It’s because of those very ponderings that you can sit high, swiveling about the head of Gojo’s cock before delivering a shattering pry at his building high. You can handle yourself this time, smothering your clit in the hairs surrounding his base. Your strides hold fast along his length, your pussy enveloping the entirety of his cock. Whiffs of insecurity whisk through your mind, unsure if Gojo would succumb to the lust as quickly as you did—only for you to discover the sweetest sight known to man.

Gojo’s brought himself to a whimpering shell of himself, mind numb off the slobbery squeeze of your walls. It’s so good to his poor, ruined mind, drunk off the bliss of your pussy. Spit spills from his mouth and glosses his lips, eyes glassy by the burning onslaught of tears—he’s a wreck underneath you. He’s finally got you, putting the effort to be used as some boy toy. He can’t take it, Gojo’s mind being beyond comprehension.

You take him so well, granting his sullied tip to nudge at your precious cervix. He deems himself blessed in the moment too, studying the pleasure trap itself beneath your features. Your lips fall from their pursed build, eyes rolled back into your skull, and hips set at a senseless pace. Why it’s so good, Gojo can’t believe it, freeing himself from the binds of his carnal lust.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum like that, Angel—and I don’t want that yet.”

Gojo’s brute strength comes to play as he takes hold of the reins, using her sheer force to pin you beneath his body. He settles onto his haunches, pulling you that much closer to close the distance. He doesn’t, guiding your legs to fold against your chest. He’s focused on your behalf, eyes queued on his bucking hips.

“B-But I’m gonna fuck you now, kay? Wanna make you feel good too, cover my cock with your pretty cum.”

The head of his cock pushes into you, splitting the lips of your cunt in an open kiss. He’s fitting inside you with such vivid ease, his cock almost sitting homely in your heat. The thick head kisses your leaving his shaft to curve at your sweet spot explicitly. He stretches you just right, fills you to the hilt, and the pulsing throbs that twitch inside you are nothing short of lewd.

With a few dips of his cock, Gojo could’ve made you cum just like that…but you’ve come to know that he won’t.

Gojo’s hips snap with no prevail, sending his cock to plunge so deep inside you. He’s hitting your cervix on every drive of his hips, smothering the perked nerves in a mess of fluttering pecks. He prefers it this way, pitting himself to the brim of your pussy that you have no choice but to cry out, his name falling from your lips.

He’s unforgiving when he’s like this, bringing forth the clash of skin echoing around the room. Gojo’s feverish in such nature, desperate to savory your pussy and desperate to cum. It’s more or less a reward for him, witnessing you handle all he’s giving. He can bury himself as much as you would allow, your walls sending his cock to. Each reel of his hips pulls the glossy sheens of your essence to paint his shaft

There’s much to take in but not a coherent thought in sight to do such bidding. From his chest smothered against your own, breath fanning—it’s simply too much for you to endure. The friction doesn’t offer you much either, the melds of heat running your body hot and throwing your mind into a flushed haze.

Gojo’s the one to blame, the thick of his fat cock rummaging tempered drags along your walls. It’s the hot and gummy fat bullying your walls that trap you in a trance, his cock rendering you a dumb mess of drool and spilled tears.

“G-Gojo…wait! It’s so–no, it’s too much! Jus’ slow down—”

Gojo’s hand peels from your thigh, his palm curved to the plush of your tummy. The tips of his fingers sit deep upon you, his soothing touch massaging your skin.

“It’s going too deep? Oh pretty girl, I can go, so, so much deeper than this. So deep that all you’ll know is me, baby.”

But it’s unbeknownst to Gojo how much he’s ruined you. He’s caught up in the sight of you so distraught and needy that he doesn’t know how close you are to your high. It’s hinged on so close that all it does take for you to reach that high is the pretty head of his cock to kiss at your cervix, the kiss of reassurance allowing for you to crumble.

Your spine arches from the dented cushions, hands fighting for solid grounding. Patches of stars coat your vision, courtesy of. Violent waves of exhaustion all strike your body at once, pulling what energy was left behind. You’re caught in a bind, the firm hold looming over your limp physique until it breaks at the sound of Gojo’s voice.

“That’s it, let everyone know that you’re all mine, Angel. You’re all mine, and I swear to fuck I’m not letting you go,” the oath rolling off his tongue. Gojo can’t help himself, refusing to quit amidst your high. His hips tilt to better his reach against your sweet spot, riding through the course of your orgasm.

A sharp seethe of air cuts through Gojo’s lips, pity boiling at the forefront of his mind. He knows it’s too much for you, watching your body attempt to flee. His eyes settle on your tits, bouncing with each flinch consuming you. He wants to say it, ask for your fleeting patience as his own orgasm hints at its arrival. But bless his foolish heart, he’s so drunk off your drooling pussy that words come out harsher than he means.

“Ah, don’t run from me, just take it…take every inch of me.”

A longing whimper of defeat wails off your chest. He’s fucking you to undiscovered lengths in your body, so far gone that babbles serve as your conversings. That same crowding influence seeps into your limp tongue. There’s no control in what you can say or do, your hands resting along the ridges of his flexed abs. Even your legs lose the urge to resist, lacing around Gojo’s waist to push him deeper than he’s even been.

“Please, c-cum inside me, Gojo. Please cum inside my pretty pussy, ‘Toru, please!”

“Oh Y/N, that’s so dirty of y-you…wait—fuck!—”

The threads of reality snap in Gojo’s mind at the sound of your pleading voice, a violent reckoning crashing over him. The spill of tension that sits in the fat bloat of his balls ruins you, thick ropes of a creamy white flushing your walls white.

Gojo’s lost all strength to carry on, his impoverished body collapsing onto yours. A dizzy head and heaving chest is a combination he’s used to but tonight holds a different story. Words can’t be found to describe the state he’s entered. He’s astute, taking everything in as his hands cling to your waist. His thumbs draw mindless circles into your skin, Gojo’s silent form of apology.

It’s a strange instinct for him, the sudden urge to shower you in his care. His mind’s racing with thoughts, how to show his intentions for you. It’s not in his character but god did he was To soothe you with kisses, rub all the sores and knicks he’d inflict, just to lay next to you in idle conversation was all he wanted at the moment. The effort’s worth it in his eyes.

So he decides to try his hand at it, pulling his chest from yours. His hands lay flat beside your head, closing the distance between you both with a smirk.

“Lemme clean you up.”

With a quick peck of his lips, Gojo turns his attention between his legs. His eyes fall shut as he pulls out from your cunt with a hitching breath. But it’s the sight that has him whimpering, his cock glistening with slick and spattered patterns of white.

Slotting himself between your legs, Gojo presses his cheek along your inner thigh, hands keeping your limbs apart.

His eyes return to the timeless sight of your slit, dribbling with his cum. He’s apprehensive about it for the moment, admiring the rare scene with doting hues. Yet as his tongue finally curls up against your folds, all thought suspends from him.

He can’t help but to be lazy, the flat of his tongue lapping at the puffy sheets of flesh. Each drop of your essence is caught by Gojo’s ministrations, relishing in your taste.

He’s guided to the hood of your clit, the bud perked twitching in regards. The tip of his slicked muscles tightens upon the sticky contact , swirling around the pearl gently. Gojo’s digits gravitate to your pussy, catching the hood of your clit in a flurry of strokes. He couldn’t care less about his cum pooling from your entrance, too enthralled with the unsteady gasps trapping your lungs.

“G-Gojo, wait! It’s t-too much!”

“Told you I love this cute clit of yours. Just give me one more, please?”

Feverish nods spill from you, the heft of the impending orgasm reaching like no other. It’s passing you in waves, the tingling numbness claiming the soles of your feet. Your legs fold to meet your chest rapidly, the knot in your lower back unraveling at godforsaken heights.

Gojo’s humming a giddy tune as he presses his lips to your quivering clit. He watches as your body thrashes about the sunken cushions, a prideful glint illuminating his eyes.

“Mhm, that’s my girl. ‘M so proud of you!”

Gojo pulls from your side for the moment, leaving the couch to sort through the vast piles of discarded clothes. He returns with his briefs and wrinkled button-down in tow. The dress shirt drapes across your body as he pulls you to your feet, his arms laced around your waist.

“C’mon, let’s go get comfortable,” he coos, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck. The two of you stroll up the stairs, passing through the first right door to enter the moonlit bedroom. The duvet’s tint of blue beckons you and Gojo to grow closer. He leads you to the bed, collapsing beside you with sleep itching on the brain.

As he settles at your side, Gojo’s eyes scan about your room. He’s greeted by the blanched white walls, a few paintings that hang—the bare coverings over your windows. A streak of blush surfaces at the highs of his cheeks, turning to meet your languid sights.

“Y’know, you have to buy some blinds, Princess. It’s especially dangerous at night, people can be so nosy.”

“Is that right?” you giggle, staring at Gojo through your lashes. You can’t help but admire his beauty, how the faint light of the moon kisses his fair skin and white hair. Even the way he looks at you holds radiance, his eyes of blue holding the purest glow you’ve ever seen.

Gojo doesn’t bother to keep his distance, bringing his body to cocoon your own. His hand catches yours in a hold, paired with the gentle pecks riddled across your cheeks.

“Promise to take you out on a real date tomorrow. We can do everything, walk around town, go to a different restaurant–”

“What’re you doing, Gojo?” the question calling about reflective silence.

He lets your inquiry bake on his mind for a while, keeping his fingers intertwined with your own. Gojo knows exactly what you mean. Promising another date, even just being in the same bed as you for this long was foreign. But with you—for you— he’s inclined to do anything that’ll keep you around.

He pays you one final glance before replying, a small grin teasing the corners of his lips.

“Trying something new.”

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

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Mommy... Master List

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Same as it ever was 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: have a happy friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday gives you an excuse to get away. Pete, like a dog with his tail between his legs, doesn't even try to come up with an excuse to 'work'. You take Simone with you to the grocery store, warning the slug that he can handle Malik for a couple hours alone. You notice the pout in his lips but don't acknowledge it.

You don't need much but you take your time. You agree to buy Simone an Archie comic, shrugging off the extra few dollars as you notice her growing restless. You made her leave her book at home. You're happy she loves to read but she can't ignore the world all the time.

"You wanna get lunch?" You ask as you push the cart through the lot.

"Mm, I dunno," she drags her feet, "I'm tired."

"Probably 'cause you need to eat," you judge her with your elbow, "come on, how often is it just the two of us."

She grumbles but you ignore her reluctance. You're in no hurry to get home and you can scrounge enough for a sit down in the diner. It might be the last nice thing you can afford.

You load up the bags on the trunk and drive down the block to the same place you would take Simon when you were still pregnant with Malik. Those days were nice and so far behind you. The memory makes your heart ache.

You open the door ahead of Simone and follow her into the mom and pop shop. You're seated by the window in a booth. You order coffee as your daughter gets an apple juice. You peruse the menu but you're not very hungry.

"Oh, they still have the grilled cheese," you say.

"Yeah…" she continues to read the menu, nonplussed by your suggestion.

You tap your toe and cup your chin as you look out the window. It's a nice day even if you're gloomy inside. You turn back to the table and flip over the menu.

The waitress returns with your drinks. You sip your coffee before you order a mac and cheese and Simone gets chicken fingers. You hand the menus over and smile at your daughter. She's old enough, she'll catch on soon.

"So, what's your latest adventure about?" You ask.

"Uh, well, I just read one about a knight. She's a girl and she goes off to fight an army of trolls…"

You immerse yourself in her retelling of the children's novel. You don't care, it's better than reality. You giggle and smile as she becomes more animated. She can be so monotone but her passion makes you proud.

A figure approaches, breaking your trance, and you look over expecting the waitress. To your chagrin, it's not.

You grip the edge of the table as Simone's voice peters out and she looks at the man with her cool deadpan. You clear your throat, fighting the urge to reach across and shield her. Mr. Hansen smirks down at you as he glances between you and your daughter.

"Funny running into you here," he snickers, "enjoying your weekend."

"Just having lunch," you say crisply, "hope you're having a good Sunday."

You turn straight on the bench and look at Simone as you gesture for her to face you. She frowns as you try to come up with an escape plan. You don't even know what to say and he's not going anywhere.

"Oh I'm having a wonderful weekend. Look at you, how cute, this must be the spawn."

"Spawn?" Simone murmurs, "hey, what's your deal, guy?"

"Sim," you wave her off, "that's good to hear Mr. Hansen. I hate to keep you so–"

"Room for one more?" He winks.

"Ew, no," Simone speaks before you can, "mom, tell him to go away."

"She's mouthy. Not hard to guess why," he scoffs.

You slide off the seat and stand, stepping between him and the table. You arch a brow, pleading with your hands out.

"Please, sir, we're just enjoying a meal out. I'll see you tomorrow. At work."

He watches you, his amusement playing on his face. He's enjoying seeing you squirm, just like before. He always knows the most sensitive spot to hit. Your kids would be top of the list.

"Tomorrow," he winks as he leans back on his heel, "we got a special meeting, don't we?"

"Sir," you hiss.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, "alright, ladies, enjoy your lunch."

He backs up and struts away. You don't sit until he's out the door. What on earth is he even doing in a place like this? It's not exactly a Michelin star experience.

You settle back in and swallow, turning to watch out the window. He isn't in his usual suit but still dressed nicely. A peach polo peeking out under a teal bomber jacket and canary pants. Tacky if you say so yourself.

"Who was that weirdo?" Simone asks.

"My boss," you lean back, "just saying hi."

"He's strange. Like the villain in the book I was reading," she scowls out the window, "you need a new job."

You laugh despite yourself, "you have no idea. First things first, I'm starving."

🗄️

You get home, exhausted. You put away the groceries and tidy up. Of course Pete couldn't clean up after making a mess of the kitchen for a simple PB and J. You sigh as you finish and look in on the kids in the living room.

Malik colours as Simone creases her brow at her book. You hear Pete outside working on his Corvette. For a brand new car, it sure needs a lot of maintenance.

You tell the kids you'll be upstairs if they need anything. You go to the bedroom and open the closet. You're so anxious about tomorrow, you may as well get ready to face the music.

You pick out an outfit. Nothing special. You don't have anything fashionable. It's not like you need more than a striped blouse and worn black pants. You just don't want to come back up there to grab it all in the morning.

As you come downstairs, you hear Malik giggling. You peek in through the doorway with your armful of clothing. Pete sits on the floor at the coffee table beside the boy and scribbles with a crayon. He meets your eye as you pass and gives a sheepish smile. You shake your head and keep going.

You open the door to the basement and the cool air sweeps around your descent. You put the outfit on the folding table beside the camping cot. Your first few nights have been less than comfortable. As cozy as your own marriage.

You check the dryer and take out the towels, folding them on the top and stacking them there. You hear footsteps on the stairs. You keep your back to the airy space.

"Hey," Pete says. You're not surprised. He keeps trying to corner you. "So…"

"Busy," you grab a basket and set the towels in it.

"Hm," he stops only a few feet from you, "Simone said you ran into someone. Your boss."

"Yup. Nice guy," you utter dryly.

"I thought Mandy was your boss."

You roll your eyes as you lift the basket and turn, "one of many. She's up in York now."

"Ah…" he hangs his head, gripping one hip, "a lot's changed."

"I'm not in the mood to talk so let's not do this."

He huffs and steps into your path. He puts a hand on the basket. He looks you in the face.

"I will be home every day at six–"

"Too late."

"Please, can't I just try? Can't you?"

"Me? I tried, Pete," you snap, "come home at six anyway. The kids will be happy."

"What about you?"

You stare at him grimly. Your eyes tingle and you look away. Your chest rises and falls.

"I haven't been happy in a long time. Don't think I will be again," you shrug and pull the basket away, striding past him, "I didn't make you happy either, did I?"

He huffs and trails after you as you cross to the stairs. As you go to make your ascent and he grabs your arm and spins you back to him. Before you can react, he snatches the basket from your grip and places it on the stack of rubbermaid bins by the wall.

He puts his hands on your arms and pulls you against him. He leans in and you turn your head, his lips crashing into your cheek. You shove on his chest and growl.

"What are you doing?" You pinch by his ribs.

"Baby, please, let me make it up to you–"

"Don't touch me," you push on him, "get off."

"I love you. I mean it–"

"Stop!" You hit his chest again but he doesn't budge, instead wrapping his arms around you, squeezing the breath out of you. How is he still so strong when you only ever got weaker? "Pete…"

"You can't walk away–"

"You already did," you keep your voice down, mindful of the open door above.

"Let me try. I wanna make love to you–"

"Pfft, yeah right. Go get tested and I might even consider letting you hold my hand," you snarl, "get off of me now."

"Wha– I'm clean–"

"Get!" You bring your knee up and feel it collide with his crotch. He releases you and staggers back, cupping his most precious possession. "You're a dirty fucking weasel."

You turn and pick up the basket and stomp up the stairs as you hear him whimpering. Serves him right. You can't help but smile at the ounce of power you feel in that moment.

🗄️

Monday morning both too quickly but not fast enough. You get up with the kids and get them ready for school, filling a thermos of coffee for yourself. You drive them to school and send them off with dread in your chest.

For a moment, you idle outside the school. You miss the days when you only worried about spelling quizzes and dodgeball. You hope at least your kids never end up where you are.

You follow the crawl of traffic out of the school zone and reluctantly steer towards work. You yawn and drain half your thermos before you get to the office. As you shoulder your bag and look up at the corporate facade, you feel the world threaten to crumble around you. No, not the whole world, just yours.

You enter behind a few others and try to find your courage in the elevator. You peek over at your coworkers; you recognise two but the other you don't know. There's not much workplace camaraderie, more of an understanding to get your work down and clock out.

You follow them out and go to your desk. You sit and pop the lid off of your thermos. Just enough to get you through this. You don't unpack your lunch, certain you won't be eating it there.

You turn on your PC and sign in. You're in no hurry to get started on work. Your calendar pops up with the internal schedule reminder. There it is, a meeting in ten minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You get up and go to the bathroom. You can do this. You dealt with your scoundrel husband, you are still moving, you're not dead in the water.

But how do you survive this? Do you beg? You quit and take the loss? No you can't. You need this job and if you get fired, at least you'll have a hope at severance.

You avoid your reflection. That old woman isn't you. You go out and check your watch, pausing as the shine of your rings gleam in the fluorescent light. You slide them off and put them in your back pocket.

You check the schedule one last time and go to tbe meeting room. There's no one there as you find the door shut. It's clearly empty on the other side of the windowed walls. You lean against the plaster and tap your sole.

"Ah, there she is. How's it goin', toots? You need some chamomile? The chairs sure are comfy, aren't they?" Mr. Hansen struts down with his hands in his pockets.

"Sir," you greet flatly. He's mocking you. Jokes on him, you're always tired.

"Come on," he twists the handle and swings the door open so that it bounces on the hinges, "get moving."

You don't react to his crass tone. You merely step into the room as the light flicks on as the censor picks up your movement. You walk along one side of the table as Hansen shuts the door.

You hover behind a chair as he goes along the wall and tugs each cord to repel the blinds down, blocking out the hallway. Uneasiness bubbles in your stomach as you watch him. You expected him to make your humiliation public.

"Have a seat, honey buns," he faces you, approaching the other side of the table.

You sit and fold your hands on the table top. He has no paperwork, not even a computer. You wonder what exactly is going on.

"Is someone from HR–"

"Look, let's keep the sticklers outta this," he waves you off, kick one foot out as he shifts his weight to one hip, "unless you really want a disciplinary slip. Me, personally, I can't be fucked with that paperwork."

You frown and flatten your hands on the table, trying to keep your anxiety from showing. He looks at the gesture and tilts his head. His cheek dimples and he snorts.

He doesn't comment. Not at first. He paces up and down the table and bites his thumb.

"Alright, let's get to business," he stops at the end, close to the corner, "what are you willing to do to keep this job?"

"Sir?"

"Pretty daughter you got. Probably eats up that paycheck in no time. All those cute shirts and ugh, the growth spurts–"

"Mr. Hansen," you swallow, "please, I don't think my family has anything to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this," he insists, "let's not pretend."

"I'm not– I'm sorry I fell asleep. It won't happen again."

"I gave you an out. All you had to do was put your hands down my pants and you could've napped in the boardroom. No problem. I do it all the time," he snickers, "but no, you're a stubborn little bitch. Makes me wonder what the old man sees in ya. Really, cause a tight ass ain't fun unless you get inside–"

"Mr. Hansen," you exclaim, revolted by his lewd words.

"Whatever he's doing, he's not doing it right. You need to loosen up, toots," he runs his thumb across his mustache, "and that little girl won't be so proud of mommy if she ends up working at Burger King like some stoner teenager–"

You sputter, heat creeping up the nape of your neck and speckling down your body. You shake your head. Did he know or is it a lucky guess? Either way, you don't have the energy for this. You're done being a joke for men.

"Just spit it out. What do I have to do?" You sneer as your hands ball.

His lips slant and he smothers a noise in his throat. He slowly walks closet until he's right beside you. You turn the chair to face him as he leans down and puts his hand on yours. He unfolds your fingers and feels along the indents left by your rings.

"Looks like trouble in paradise," he winks, "well, I'm the good kinda trouble. Trust me."

You stare at him. You're not as naive as you once were. There's no denial here. This is real life, a bitter pill you need to swallow.

"That's it? A hand job and I keep my job?" You squint.

He laughs and cups your chin, "oh, you think that's it?"

You can't help but let your surprise bleed through. Your not some young hot thing. Is he just trying to rub salt in the wound or is he serious?

"I…"

"Hand, mouth, cunt, ass, tits," he pulls away as he lists of each word, "you look in tact for the most part. But most importantly…" he shoots you with a finger gun, "you're desperate. What more could I ask for?"

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #same as it ever was #the gray man #pain hustlers

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yoonia · 1 year

Text

The Bedroom Hymns | myg ● fic teaser

⟶ Summary | Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once were you given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows.

When the day comes for your father to send you to live in his castle by the sea, he leaves you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. The magical doors become your escape, giving you the chance to see the world that you had never seen before. Until one day, your life changes as one of the magical doors leads you to the Fairy Prince.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns; a Bluebeard Retelling ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Strangers to Lovers au, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale Retelling au ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; nothing yet for this teaser, but I will add warnings as I continue writing this ⟶ Estimated word count | 40k words ⟶ Teaser word count | 2,1k words

⏤ Written for the Once Upon A Fantasy collab

⟶ Author’s note | As the result of my latest poll, you have chosen for me to finish this story first out of the rest of my April WIPs. Thank you so much for everyone who voted! If you are interested to join my fic taglist, please enter your information here. If you are only interested to be tagged on this fic, please only enter your url in the replies.

𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖞…

Stargrave castle.

The castle with 1000 doors which was built right on the top of the Earthpeak cliff, the ocean edge of the Nythelean Empire’s territory. You have learned a little about this castle on the morning you first arrived, under the guidance of Lord Gordan, the royal advisor working for your father, King Aneas.

You have only been here for less than a week, and you know for sure that you still have much to learn about this castle. The place that is to become your new home. It still feels foreign to roam through the hallways, and you constantly find yourself being amazed at how expansive this place is compared to the manor you have been residing in since your childhood.

No, this castle was said to be your real home.

Your father himself had said so. This is the place where you were born. The place where you had once lived peacefully and happily with your father and mother together, before the Queen tragically passed and you were taken away while you were still a young, helpless child. This is the place that holds the old scars and the wounds that your father must carry with him for many years until he lost all of his happiness and his warm smile.

No wonder he kept you away from this place for so long.

The darkness terrifies you when you try to step out of your bed chamber at nightfall. The long corridors feel like a maze, with numerous doors and several open galleries welcoming you whenever you get lost on your way. Oftentimes, you only feel safe when you are in your private chamber, or when you are having your high tea with Nanny Abigail in the garden, where you would find yourself wasting time until the sun sets each day. There is never a day passed when you didn’t miss your old home, the Seacrest Manor. But as days continued to progress, you soon realise that if this is where you are to spend the rest of your life, you must soon make it your mission to make this place home.

Surely, it wouldn’t be such a hard task to do, would it?

Not with Lord Gordan and Nanny Abigail by your side to guide you through it. And now that you are finally back at the home castle, you will also have more time to spend together with your father compared to how it used to be before. That would certainly help you learn more about this place, about the home territory that you were never allowed to see, and maybe help fix the fragile bond you have between you and your father.

Or so you thought.

“I have to be away for at least six weeks. There are matters needed to be dealt with and it would be too taxing of a journey if you should join me,” your father suddenly announces on the first day of your second week of being home. “Make this castle your home the best you possibly can while I am away and enjoy yourself. You might need help to go around the castle in my absence, so here—”

You barely find the words to respond to him with when he suddenly grabs your hand and places a heavy set of keys right at the center of your palm.

“Here are the keys to various rooms within the castle. As you may have noticed, we have many doors right here at the home castle that has been kept locked because I am always away and you haven’t been back home, and I am the only person who has the access to each of them. Now, you will have the ability to open them all by using these keys.”

You keep your eyes on the keys in your hand, studying them closely with pure interest as your father explains this. Varied in colours, sizes, and materials, they look nothing at all like any set of keys that you would normally see for regular houses or manors. Not even your old home. Your father falls silent for a moment before he continues to explain what the keys are for, his small smile is hidden while you are not paying attention to his face, but simply to his voice.

“These are the keys to the storerooms; where I keep my best furniture and gifts from the many Kingdoms I have visited,” he says as he picks the ones made of brass from the bunch. “Make use of them as much as you need. You can also bring some of them to fancy your bed chamber should you need any changes to be done and make your stay comfortable.”

Hearing this only excites you. For days, you have been thinking of how plain and boring your new bed chamber is, and have been wishing that you were able to take some of your old belongings to fill your room with. Your father seems to be pleased to see your reaction, and continues by pointing at the slightly smaller-looking keys which seem to be made of bronze.

“These are the keys to the treasure rooms; where you can find all the silver and gold plates that I have gathered through my journeys, the casket of jewels which are part of our family treasure, and the safe where I keep all the money which belongs to the family,” he explains, while you are left speechless at how easy he is to hand over such a huge responsibility onto you. As if sensing your doubt, your father raises your chin so he can look at you straight in the eyes and say, “You are free to use them all to fill your needs, as long as you use them wisely while I am gone.”

You swallow hard and nod. There is something in his stern voice that demands your attention, letting you know that there is an underlying threat hidden in his warning, that you have no other choice but to pledge, “I will be responsible for them, Father. I promise.”

“Good. I have faith in you, Princess,” he says, sounding relieved but still cautious, and then he looks down at the keys to point at the pair that looks slightly bigger than the rest. “Now, this is the master key to all the private chambers, including yours and mine. You can use my room or my study should you need them. And this one will take you to the main library. I know that you love your books, and you shall find everything you may ever need to learn more about this land.”

Hearing about the library, all of the disappointment you felt about your father being gone begins to shift, and you start feeling a semblance of hope. If you cannot earn the information that you needed from your own father, perhaps you would be able to find your answers among the books in the library. Maybe you can also learn more about this realm, and how your father’s empire somehow exists between the two realms—the human realm, and the magical realm within the land Far Far Away.

Still with your eyes on the keys, your attention is drawn towards a pair of keys that seem to sparkle brighter from the others, calling for your attention. You look at them both with awe, amused by how magic seems to appear even in the smallest things you can find in this realm. Just like the keys you are holding in your hand.

You study those keys closely without saying a word, marvelling at each detail. One key is made of silver, while the other from gold. Both of them are glowing brightly and are nearly humming with an enticing aura as if they are made with enchantment. It makes it hard for you to look away, as if you are completely drawn to them, unable to ignore their presence and their calling.

“What about these keys, Father?” you question your father when your curiosity gets the best of you.

King Aneas leans closer just to have a better look, even if it is quite obvious that he could already tell which keys you were referring to. With gentle fingers, he pulls the silver one from its bunch. “This silver key will take you through the doors with the silver embellishments. Those doors you may enter, but only under a few specific rules.”

For some reason, his voice sounds ominous as he explains this. You look at him curiously, wondering why this key demands certain rules to be followed, unlike the others. Looking at your father’s face helps only a little to reassure you, as his face is completely stern when he begins to explain,

“Beyond the silver doors lies a strong kind of magic. One that has been so demanding of our family’s powers, and also the type of magic that should be kept secret, no matter what. Once you go through them, you will understand why it is important for me to defend this castle and our home territory.”

As you listen to his explanation about the silver doors and the magic behind them, your curiosity grows stronger. Living in the Seacrest Manor has kept you from learning anything about magic, and now that you are suddenly thrust into the place where magic seems to thrive, you feel eager to learn and experience them yourself to understand everything better. And that curiosity strengthens once your father continues to give you the rules that you must follow,

“You are free to visit each of these silver doors only for one visit each day. You must make sure that you will never remain on the other side of the door of your choice for more than six hours and you must always, always, only return home by going through that very same door you came from. Can you remember this?”

Suppressing your eagerness so as not to make him worry, you simply nod and promise, “Yes, I will remember,” while making sure to remember every detail, every warning, so you wouldn’t make any mistake to disappoint him in the future.

Just as your hope of learning new magic arises, the golden key begins to vibrate in your hand, calling for your attention. Noticing where your eyes are drawn towards, your father’s expression turns grim.

“This golden key—” he says, gently lifting the key from the bundle as he tells you more about it, “—will allow you to open the twin doors at the end of the great gallery on the top floor of the South tower.”

Your eyes grow wide with interest, recalling the night you first arrived at the castle and how the South Tower seemed to be calling your name. You feel the curiosity building, your eagerness to venture to the hidden parts of the castle rising, only to deflate when your father says,

“This one, I must forbid you to use.”

You stifle a gasp and question him. “But why, Father?”

Your father’s expression grows even darker once he takes notice of your interest in the golden door. He places both of his hands on your shoulders before you can ask more. “Never open the golden doors. Never walk past it, and never look what is inside,” he demands with a voice that comes out as a warning, before he softens and begs you, “Princess, I need you to promise me.”

Once again, you are left speechless. Baffled by his demands, yet his voice leaves you no chance to argue that you can only give in and say, “Yes, I promise.”

The King remains silent for a brief moment, as if he is trying to read your thoughts, wondering if you are hiding any intentions of defying him. But then he sighs, and your father finally lets you go with a reassuring nod.

“Good. Make sure never to forget this. Oh, and there is one more thing that you must always remember—” he quickly adds before you can say anything. “You are free to roam about through these doors — of course, except for the golden doors — but you are not to leave this castle by stepping out through the great door at the front gate. Not when I am not around, and never without a guard.”

You find this instruction quite odd. Just as odd as his rules and warnings regarding the magic doors, but you dare not to question him, understanding how little your knowledge of magic is to begin with to help you argue against his demands. So you put all of your curiosity aside, choosing to gain his trust and confidence as you promise him,

“I’ll remember.”

⟶ Estimated posting date | TBA; (hopefully) by the end of April 2023

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simpjaes · 1 year

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▸ i only write for hyung line & jungwon. ▸ minors do not interact ▸ likes do not help writers. please reblog and leave feedback on my work.

▸ drabbles m.list ▸ perma tag list ▸ upcoming fics― WIPS ▸ latest― s.jy in DESECRATION

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏▸ drabbles found here FRENZY | (ao3) - 33k total FRENZY PART TWO - 14.2k total Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.

PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jay) | (ao3) - 30k Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

DESECRATION | (ao3) - 6.4k the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim. EROTIC EMPATHY | (ao3) - 12.7K the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising his virginity on a dating app and decide to help him out.

BIG DICK FOR DUMMIES | (ao3)- 2.4k The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it. SERIAL-SWEETHEART (ft. sunghoon) (ao3)- 23.6k Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Sunghoon came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Jake, has a bit of a thing for you? TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jay) (ao3) - 8.5k TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jay) (ao3) - 14.3k the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet. SIMP | (ao3) - 5.6k men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏▸ drabbles found here

HARD CASH, EASY MONEY - 5.4k Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later. TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jake) (ao3) - 8.5k TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jake) (ao3) - 14.3k the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet. PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jake) | (ao3) - 30k Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏▸ drabbles found here

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS | (ao3) - 20.4k ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2 - 21.8k Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE | (ao3) - 9.3k Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk? He'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏▸ drabbles found here

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | (ao3) - 30k You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off. PROVOKED - 2.3K the one where heeseung uses your body as an outlet because he had a shitty day.

#masterlist

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chaosheadspace · 3 months

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wip meme: Subvocals? subvocals sounds so interesting pls say more

Okay, subvocalisation is a term first coined by fanfic author Did (someone correct me if I'm wrong) for Omegaverse. It's involuntary / hard to repress sounds that express simple things like "back off / come here / I'm scared / I want you / where is my alpha / you're in serious danger of being bitten rn" stuff like that.

So this would be a Dreamling fic where everyone is part of the Omegaverse system, even the Endless. Due to his eldritch shenanigans, Dream's subvocals are in a pitch no living being can hear, so he just goes ham / he never learned how to maybe tone it down.

Cue Hob who's hearing is a little fucked. One day, while out with his friends, starts hearing those weird noises. You know where this is going, haha. Dream being called out on his bullshit by his own body, naturally.

Snippet under the cut, possibly OOC. (also, I'm not italicising all the *, I'm on mobile, I won't do that to myself)

Hob just smiles gently as his friends laugh about another story Alrin is telling, imitating the purrs and trills of his latest Omega conquest. Hob's had trouble hearing ever since he was kicked by a horse as a kid. He can't even hear his *own* subvocals, just feel the vibrations of them in his chest whenever they happen. Funnily enough, he's also grown up to really like horses. But his friends and their jokes are still a mystery to him.

So when he suddenly hears a small, discontent mewl through the din of the white horse tavern, so *clear* through all the ruckus, he doesn't even know what it is, at first. Just that it tugs at his heartstrings rather severely.

*Alone. Miserable. Hurt. Go away. Hello? No. Bad smell. Alone. Alone. Hurt. No. Don't touch. Go away.*

It's a string of sounds just a hair's breadth away from thoroughly distressed and Hob feels his chest rumble. *Hello. Hello? No threat. Here. Here. Come? I will protect. Hello?*

It's impossible to make out a specific smell here in the tavern, but Hob's eyes search frantically until they land on the most defiant man Hob has ever seen. His posture communicates that he clearly wants to be anywhere but here, his cheekbones say 'I will cut you', and his eyes say 'don't you dare'.

And the sweet, high notes coming from his throat sing *alone alone alone, please, no, help me*.

Sharp blue eyes find his and say 'do not dare. If you dare, I will kill you'. His song beckons Hob closer. Hob stands, barely registering the questioning looks from his friends, and goes to him as if drawn on a string. The high notes of the plea shift and lap over the purr in his own chest.

The stranger is silent. Hob takes a good look into his eyes, cutting himself up with masochistic joy, before saying, "I won't, you know. Die, that is. Unless you plan on killing me yourself."

The stranger tips his head, looks at Hob as if studying a mildly interesting bug and Hob knows, deep inside himself, that he could. He's fine as marble, possibly as strong, too. Hob takes a surprised breath and that's when he knows for sure that this man is not like any other he has met. He's got no smell, a weird absence of one, like fresh wind, like a torn-down forgotten memory.

And still, his body sings to Hob, sings *for* him, now a litany of *alone, alone, will you come, are you, do you, will you hold me, please, please, I'm so alone all the time*.

#tag game #Chaosheadspace's writing

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twopoppies · 28 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/747389355237195776/hello-gina-i-hope-you-have-a-good-day-i-dont

You make some really good points here, especially about stepping away a bit and trying to just enjoy them as musicians. I’ve tried it with some success, but it’s not easy. I do honestly love both of their music and listen to it daily. Beyond that, it’s good to back off a bit for me.

I think for me something that has really become clear this last year, is that many fans feel entitled to what I would call Chapter 118 of the Harry/Louis WIP, and the reality is it’s just not coming. Now I love reading Larry fan fiction as much as the next person, but looking at it that way is so unfair to them. They have real lives and relationships and it’s not a story that needs to be tied up with a happily ever after. Lots of Larries - especially Twitter Larries - seem to use every interview or use of a primary color as a new chapter. I’ve never been a believer in the “mastermind” theory. And you are so right when you say the good vs evil is not really clear anymore. Yes, Syco and Cowell committed a lot of abuses, but those guys walked out of there with around $50M and tons of doors opened for them that wouldn’t have been possible without 1D , so the lines are blurred.

I think it’s pretty clear from Harry’s “corner of the internet ….it’s not real” interview to Louis latest, they don’t want our help in this - whatever “this” is anymore. It’s not underdogs vs overlords and I don’t like taking away Harry’s and Louis’s agency at this point.

It’s funny, because in 2016 if someone had said this is where you will be 8 years later I would have laughed in their face. But this is where we are and finding ways to deal with it and realizing we may never have more then we have today can be hard. Who knows what will happen in the future. Tomorrow the whole thing could blow wide open and lots of questions will get answered, but I just don’t think so and I’m ok with that. Sort of…. lol!

Anyway, thanks for the nice, calm commentary. I still enjoy reading it all!

Oh, I totally feel you on waiting for chapter 118. So many people treat their lives like an unfinished fic or a game to win. It’s super unhealthy for fans and I can’t imagine it feels good for Harry and Louis. And I very much agree that where we once were helpful, we may now be a hindrance at times. Saying that, I think it’s important to acknowledge that we’re not fucking making things up out of thin air and Harry/Louis/their teams often use Larry and larries for their benefit.

That makes it difficult to feel that they’re being completely honest when they say they don’t want a focus put on Larry.

Regardless, I’m tired of playing this game. I’d prefer to just chill in my own little circle and talk about Larry with my friends and go to concerts and have fun. But I don’t enjoy being treated like shit when it’s convenient and then sent flowers when I’m needed again, you know?

#current thoughts on Larry

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rmd-writes · 8 months

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a love note (and some fics)

Sometimes I wonder if there's really anything bigger out there - the universe, some kind of higher power, fate - and then I think about how extremely lucky I am that I became obsessed with a certain tv show and its characters at just the right time so that I could befriend someone who then introduced me to a particular book at exactly the right time to fall in love with those characters as well. And then, because of my need to have more of those characters, I went looking for more stories about them at exactly the right time to meet a group of people (some of them together, some of them later, but that doesn't matter) who would go on to become my friends.

There must be something, right? To bring together a group of people who live in five to seven different time zones depending on the time of year. To create my safest spaces on the internet. To share not just our love for a book and its characters, but parts of our lives with each other. To have them all wedge themselves into the soft spaces of my heart and never leave.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the last two weeks, because those people conspired and collaborated to gift me a collection of 10 incredible fics for a milestone birthday (tomorrow!) - even though some of them haven't written fic for months and months, or don't write for this fandom at all anymore, or have recently been finding it hard to make words work and finish fics, or are just plain busy with other projects and life. That they took the time to find and make words for me means everything and more 💖💖

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with love these past 10 days (probably to the surprise of no one, I have cried at every single fic drop and I'm crying writing this now). So, I want to share the wonderful fics that they've written for me with you all because it's the least I can do to pay it forward and they're objectively stellar fics. If you haven't come across them already then you should definitely add them to your to read lists/open tabs/MFL. Please show my friends some love and read their work.

The Rae of Sunshine! collection, in order of publication (with my very short summaries):

Take It Back (4.2K) by @three-drink-amy

Henry is the head chef at a French restaurant and there's one patron who keeps sending his dishes back. How can they resolve this?

Dick, Dick Dick (You Down) (10.2K) by @everwitch-magiks

Alex runs the craft services trailer on the set of actor!Henry's latest movie. Is he the only person who sees behind the façade?

A deceptively soft story, given the title.

Precious Love (1.3K) by floatingaway4

The fluffiest follow up to one of my favourite AUs Amigos y Migas (aka the food truck au).

Midnight ice cream (5.8K) by @the-amber-fox

Emotional support Cornettos? More likely than you think.

Make it Right (5.3K) by @three-drink-amy (that's right, Ally wrote me TWO FICS)

A rogue little Tarlos fic in amongst the firstprince - a post-season 1 canon divergence that sees TK working in a taco truck while he finds his feet.

a taste of life (7.4K) by @indomitable-love

A journey through Henry's life, told through food. (This one is not my summary, indomitablelove already summed it up perfectly)

Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) (16.8K) by @villiageidiot

Alex starts working at an Italian restaurant and is terrible at his job. Somehow, Henry doesn't seem to mind.

Cursed is a State of Mind (WIP) by @welcometololaland & @dustratcentral

A 5 + 1 treatise on cursed coffee consumption.

12 Year Starter (6.6K) by @clottedcreamfudge

When Pez can't make it to Henry's Michelin-star birthday dinner, he arranges for Henry's friend, Alex, to take his place. Featuring CCF's signature banter and fun, and a menu that I wish was real.

Pour Your He(art) Out (WIP) by @athousandrooms

A 5+1 ode to latte art (featuring actual art!)

You can find the entire collection here on Ao3.

#rae gets sappy #i have the best friends #fandom friends are the best friends #rwrb fic rec #tarlos fic rec #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #red white & royal blue fic #tarlos fic #rae of sunshine

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devouringbodies · 9 months

Note

Hiiii I was wondering if you have a fic rec list 👉🏻👈🏻

Omg hi!!! I just went through my bookmarks and found some of my favorites!! Literally I had the hardest time narrowing down, I've got so many I love, also some I can't remember the Exact plot of that I'm sure I absolutely love and have just forgotten. So I definitely have more up my sleeve if anyone wants more. Head the tags for some of these.

The Enticement of Suffering by jonnimir - latest fic I just read, gory and sexy wound fucking coda to dolce. if you're into that it's SO GOOD

Not Quite Charity by @stranded-labyrinth - au first meeting between Will and Hannibal, hannibal leaves his car in a run down area of Baltimore and will, who's homeless, heckles him about it and Hannibal decides to pay him to watch it for him. I love this will sm!! It's a really interesting look at their dynamic, and is super in character and just a fun au study!!

Perda de memória by bleakmidwinter - amnesia!hannibal post fall fic. I'm actually a sucker for amnesia aus and love the angst in this. It adds an element to Will's struggle and decision making that makes his mindset post fall all the more interesting. And I love how much hannibal is still hannibal despite not remembering hardly anything.

Everything casts a shadow by @ghostforwhat - i looooove season 2 Will killing more people. I can't ever get enough of it. It's written so well and believably here, and the way it changes the course of the season is super fascinating. Currently a wip.

Wolf and I by t_pock - so so sooo fucking good. One of my favorites. It also has a Podfic as well and I love Podfics soo much and relisten to it often. Season 1 au that has more elements of horror, creepiness, symbolism and hands down the best, hottest, wildest forest chase sequence I've ever read. This fic feels more like a folk or fairy tale it's so good, especially paired with the beautiful art the podficer made, as well as the music they paired with the Podfic. Can't recommend this one enough.

A night off the record by barcharonte - season 1 au again, where on the way to Minnesota hannibal and will get snowed in and have to take shelter somewhere. Will is still losing time and hallucinating. Hannibal still tries to take advantage of course. Fun times to be had.

Between ease and foresight by devotional_doldrums - season 1 au (can you tell I like these? Lol) where wills and Hannibal's metaphorical conversations get a little too on the nose and Will finds out. SUPER good hannibal pov, I want to eat parts of this fic the writing is so good, and the author's notes are hilarious.

Sings to me nightly, sings to me brightly by serindrana - psychic connection phone sex what more could you want!!

The joy of creation by fkahersweetness - super dark mute!will post fall. I wouldn't say I think this is Actually how a post fall dynamic would be but in the universe of this fic it's so so sooo amazing. I love the surreality and implied shared visions/psychosis connection that will and Hannibal have here. Also the ending layed me tf out for days.

Radon and its daughters by @chaparral-crown - best most believable and realistic abo au ever. Nuff said.

Speaking of abo the one where Will smells like blood to hannibal, so good. I'll probably survive this by saintsavage

Pochée by ellopoppet - season 1 au! Also with a Podfic, Will's away on a case but is still getting closer to hannibal through texts and calls.

Mon chéri by sandyquinn - cracky Addams family au esque one shot. Just super cute and silly. I'm picky about my cute and silly but the Addams family morbidity fits comedy hannigram to a T.

Never let it starve by northern - another Will finds out in season 1, I truly can't get enough of these. Also bonus bug boy will!!!

Let the river rush in by several - Explores an actual psychic connection between the boys, again I'm a huge fan of this trope.

Hyacinth house by bluesyturtle - MY BELOVED!!!! One of my top top faves, season 1 au, cool cases, great relationship dynamic between the boys, and im obsessed with how this fic portrays Will's empathy and how it plays with his gender a bit. Love the story, love the ending. Also with Podfic!

Pattern break by thisbeautifuldrowning - dark Will au season 2 where he doesn't plot with Jack or go back to the fbi and deals with Hannibal himself. LOVE how this one plays out.

Bloodline by xzombiezkittenx - VAMPIRE AU MY LOVEEEEE this fic is an utter joy if you like vamp aus. The world building is great.

A consequence of consumption by ironlotus - straight up hands down my favorite fic in the fandom I think. It's still a wip, but it's one of the best characterizations, writing, plot, and just perfect outstanding everything I've seen in this fandom. It's an au where before all the events of season 1, Will is kidnapped by Eldon stamments and is kept alive and rescued eventually. It's peak "Will's milkshake brings all the serial killers to the yard" trope and the way everything is woven together, the storylines and character motivations, is just crazy good. Also one of my most favorite hannibal pov and characterizations out there.

Ok that was still a lot, I'm sorry if I missed tagging anyone, and hopefully the links all work!

#hannigram #hannibal #hannibal fic rec #hannigram fic rec #will graham #hannibal lecter #that took forever I'm sorry if there are mistakes!!#asks #fic recs #🪰

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whimsymanaged · 3 months

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1 Sad Fic and 10 Happy Ones

My latest fic, a new WIP called A Burst of Daylight, has Henry really going through it. (Please mind the tags, which include past-SA and past violence, both of which are not inflicted by any of the characters from RWRB.) You can read the first chapter here.

To heal your heart after reading the first chapter, I’ve compiled 10 of my favorite happy RWRB fics. My first rec list! Fic descriptions written by yours truly.

1. in bloom by stutteringpeach | G

About: It’s V Day. Henry’s a florist. Alex asks for a last minute bouquet for SOMEONE. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Very mysterious.

2. An Amateur’s Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat by @firenati0n | T

About: Henry is stressed trying to make something for his pal Alex's Thanksgiving dinner. Luckily, he finds a hot dude on TikTok who teaches how to make various recipes. TikTok user whimsy makes an appearance. She’s very famous.

3. you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by coffeecatsme | T

About: Alex is drunk and thinks he's sneaky. (He's not.)

4. Shoot Your Shot by @roseharpermaxwell | M

About: Alex goes on a talk show and confesses that his first celebrity crush was Prince Henry. He’s out there manifesting hard.

5. Confidential Memorandum by sherrivalli | T

About: Alex is Henry’s assistant. His biggest task is constantly fielding calls from Henry’s adorable child. Hard life.

6. Cursed is a State of Mind by ifyoustay and LolaLand | E

About: Alex drinks coffee in various cursed states. Very educational and inspirational.

7. Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) by villageidiot | M

About: Alex is a terrible server. You will laugh your butt off reading this.

8. Dil(Do) It Yourself by @happiness-of-the-pursuit | E

About: Alex and Nora go to a workshop to make dildos. Henry helps.

9. Feel your hands in my hair and you whisper my name by @kiwiana-writes | E

About: Alex’s pick-up lines could use some work. The one he uses on Henry is, well, direct, if nothing else.

10. 5 Times Alex Made a Disney Movie Reference + 1 Time Henry Did by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | T

About: Alex watches too many Disney movies and Henry pays the price.

#firstprince #rwrb fanfic #red white and royal blue #RWRB rec list #happy fics #and one sad one

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the-anonmaton · 5 months

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Sevika x Reader Masterlist

Well it's about time a did a Masterlist of my Sevika fics, so here it is!

All of the Completed Works are already posted on AO3.

All my WIPs are stuff I've already started working on, but I don't know what to tell you, they've nothing to do with my latest works! I guess I'll keep them here for reference, because I really do want to get to them. I won't abandon my babies!! I already have a few that are a good ways ahead and I know that I want to get out sooner rather than later, but I'd love to see what you think.

MDNI, please and thank you.

Will keep updating this as it goes I guess.

Completed Works

Who do you belong to? Jealous Sevika punishing f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 5.076 words

The Burden of Battle f!Reader massaging a tired Sevika. Mature / Suggestive / One-shot / 2.480 words

Again and Again A drabble of f!Reader making Sevika squirt. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 203 words

Over the Edge, or Not Sevika edging the fuck out of f!Reader. :) Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 4.847 words

Whatever Feels Right Sevika with an inexperienced f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / Multi-chapter / 5 chapters / 17.331 words

Quivering Dance Reverse cowgirl with both Sevika and f!Reader topping and bottoming. Explicit / Smut / 2 chapters with a changed perspective / 1.531 words

Mend the Broken Sevika making love to a f!Reader who's struggling with work. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.509 words

What She Sees StoneTop!Sevika's second person POV with a bossy f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.847words

Works In Progress

Sevika slowly eating f!Reader after coming home from work.

Protective Sevika seeing f!Reader getting hurt.

A continuation of my "Over the Edge, or Not" fic, but now Sevika does the exact opposite. :)

Sevika teaching f!Reader how to drive stick. Yes, it's a driving lesson and not a euphemism!

Sevika and f!Reader are exes and getting back together after the "incident".

f!Reader meeting Sevika's mom.

A threesome with Sevika being the third person. Some cuckoldry happening and f!Reader is toxic AF.

Sevika and f!Reader making a sex tape.

AMAB Sevika punishing f!Reader with cockwarming. Thanks sevikasenby for the idea!

Disclaimer

English is not my first language, so writing and editing takes me a lot and I can't guarantee that there aren't gonna be any grammar mistakes, but I'm trying my best.

My WIPs are gonna be out in a month or in a century.

I don't consider myself a writer that knows what is doing.

I'm writing for fun because Sevika has a hold of my poor brain.

Read the tags for each completed fic for any content warnings.

Feel free to bother me! :)

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #writing #fanfiction #me thinks

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foolishlovers · 4 months

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Do you have any good omens fic and wip recs?? looking for AUs mostly

sure!! here are some of my favourite AU wips rn:

On Thin Ice by blairamok (M, 3k, 1/?)

Aziraphale Fell and Anthony Crowley are the nation’s two most prominent figure skaters.

Anthony is an Olympic gold medalist and reigning World Champion of men's singles, with countless other accolades under his belt, both notorious and beloved for his rebellious nature and reckless abandon on ice. Aziraphale is a rising star shooting straight for Anthony's claim to fame.

Their intense rivalry is a phenomenon that takes the world by storm.

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 3k, 1/?)

There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile.

And they are in love.

London, Libraries & Love by wolftea (E, 15k, 8/19)

Smiling warmly at the huddles of students, Aziraphale made his way over to Crowley, who was leaning against his desk. Crowley was dressed in layers of all black (as per usual), his red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail (not as usual, he often wore it down) and he was twirling Aziraphale’s fountain pen between his fingers.

“Mister Fell.” Crowley drawled, but the warmth in his amber eyes and the upward curve of his mouth betrayed any attempt at appearing nonchalant.

Aziraphale found himself grinning. How on Earth had he ever disliked this man?

“Crowley.” He said, eyes crinkling as he plucked the pen out of Crowley’s hands and put it back by his notebook.

There is a Light & It Never Goes Out by PhoenixRose314 (M, 27k, 5/26)

It had seemed like such a good idea. Running away to a remote, virtually uninhabited wild island, do some research for his latest paper, forget all about his nagging family, his coercive boss, the absolute mess he'd made of his life back in Soho... for five months, Aziraphale could just focus on work, get used to being lonely, and accept that love was not meant for someone like him.

That had been the plan, anyway.

Big Name Feelings by ghostrat (E, 29k, 5/16)

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 63k, 12/14)

Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener…

Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

you can find some more good omens AU recs here

also everyone pls feel free to add your wip recs to this post!!

#if u are looking for smth more specific pls tell me (@ everyone) 💜#anon #answered #good omens fic #good omens fic rec #good omens au #good omens human au #aziracrow #aziracrow au #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #good omens fanfic #foolish recs #wip wednesday #ineffable husbands

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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

Text

𝐢'𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

pairing: jisung x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!jisung. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. this one has got the angst. jisung isn't taking care of himself properly :(. reader is worried and takes it upon herself to take care of the precious dumpling. mentions of jisung spiraling/having a mental breakdown. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety, weight loss, and insomnia. pet names (affectionately). some toothe-rotting fluff and humor.

word count: 2.6k

summary: after a bout of not seeing your boyfriend jisung, you take it upon yourself to visit him one night in the studio. but what you find when you get there is the opposite of a happy sight.

a/n: whoo i haven't written a skz fic in a hot minute ever since my midterms started three weeks ago (and since this final month of the semester has been fucking me over big time). 👹 but this was really fun to write and omg ji is so cute and precious i wanna hold and take care of him forever!! 🥹 i hope to get out a few more skz fics this weekend, so please be on the lookout for those too~ and thanks for reading and supporting my work, it means a lot to me (also, i'm almost at 500 followers, wtf?!)!! 💖

🤎 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌!

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋread my rules & guidelines here! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋcheck out my skz masterlist! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋmy wip list! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋskz fic recs [nsfw ver]! :: 18+, MDNI! ࿐ྂ

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It had been such a long time since you had visited your boyfriend Jisung at his studio. Usually, the two of you would spend time with each other whence he got home from his schedules - after the two of you had worked long and hard days. The two of you liked to spend your time together by playing various video games, binging your favourite animes, and catching up on the latest comics released by your loved authors.

But lately, it felt like you hadn’t seen Jisung in such a long time - even if it had only been a week. Since Stray Kids had started working on their upcoming comeback, your boyfriend spent most of his time at the company or in the studio. So that little space for you guys to catch up with each other at the end of the day was suddenly gone because of his new schedule.

And you wanted to change that.

So on that random Thursday night, you decided to surprise Jisung with a visit to his studio. And of course, you brought a large offering of food with you - which included all kinds of takeout like pizza, fried chicken, and more.

You arrived later at the company building than you wanted to - around ten at night - since you didn’t expect to wait so long for the food to arrive at your nearby apartment.

Nevertheless, as you stepped through the front doors of the company, you noticed how utterly silent it was. After all, the staff were done for the day and the only people that remained were the trainees and idols who always worked late into the night on various projects.

You shifted down the dark hallways silently, like a ghost. And when you finally neared the door that lead to Jisung’s studio, a huge smile spread across your lips. Because finally, you were getting to see him again. Even if it was only for a little while, an hour spent with your boyfriend would be the highlight of your entire day.

So you filed through the door slowly, trying to lighten your footsteps to surprise Jisung. The beat he was working on flowed around the room, the bass vibrating in the nearby speakers. The dim led-lights cast a pale blue room against the walls, calming a restless part inside of you. He was seated at his large desk, completely focused on the two monitors in front of him. Your boyfriend had his headphones on, his head bobbing along to the music, which left you with the perfect opportunity to sneak up on him.

Placing the bags of takeout down on the nearby coffee table that was placed just in front of the large leather sofa in the room, you crept up behind him. Reaching out, one of your hands grabbed onto his shoulder.

Immediately upon contact, Jisung let out a loud shriek. And within a single beat, he was ripping off his headphones and twisting around in his chair, sandy-blonde hair messy and eyes wild in fright.

But then, as soon as his gaze landed on you, relief washed over his face in the form of a pleased smile. “Baby-” He said in a light tone, swiveling his chair around and facing you completely.

“Uhm- hi,” you began, twisting your hands together in front of you in sudden nervousness. You didn’t know why you were suddenly tongue-tied around him. The two of you had been dating for what felt like years - and you usually didn’t react in such a way when he used the pet name 'baby' on you. But perhaps, it was because it had been so long since you visited him in his studio - since you had entered his sacred space and breathed the same air as him as he composed his music. Nevertheless, you mimicked his smile, before motioning with your head to the nearby table that was laden with food. “I brought dinner.”

At that, his smile dropped just a little bit. “Oh… thanks, baby. I’ll eat it when I can, yeah?” His focus darted to the plastic bags for just a moment, before they landed back on you. A tiny smirk spread across his lips then, as he said in a playful voice, “Quit standing over there and c’mere, I wanna get a taste of your beautiful lips.”

A furious blush bloomed across your cheeks as you slowly stepped into his space. Jisung wrung his arms around your waist, helping you to sit down on his lap. In an instant, he captured your mouth in a passionate, almost desperate kiss. He must’ve been feeling the effects of your absence too.

“Ji- wait,” you started, drawing away from his kisses to take a few quick breaths. Your heart was beating wildly against your ribcage, as you noticed the way that his dark, chestnut-brown eyes filled with so much love as he looked on at you in bated silence. “I don’t want the food to get cold. Let’s eat…” But then, your voice trailed off as you began to notice the slight changes in his features since the last time that you had been him.

Because you were sitting so close to him on his lap, you had a clearer view of his face - and how his cheeks looked a little more deflated than usual, how dark circles hung underneath his eyes, and his hair was so disheveled to the point that it looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days.

“Babe- are you okay?” You suddenly asked, palm coming up between the two of you and pressing gently against his cheek. It was slightly cool to the touch, something very unlike him - since you always joked that he was your furnace. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

Your gaze locked with your boyfriend’s then, as he stayed silent. The quietness stretched between you, dancing around the room and only heightening your concern.

Because oh-

Oh, holy fuck-

He was doing it again.

He was letting himself slip… just like in the past, when the boys had been so incredibly busy with their schedules.

At first, it just started as little warning signs…

Less of an appetite,

More fatigue,

Restless nights of sleep.

But then,

Then- the symptoms would always get worse.

They usually always resulted in a heightened sense of anxiety and stress and heartache.

Or worse, panic attacks.

You had seen him fall off the cliffside only two times before when his schedule had been swamped with activities. And the last time it had happened - which was well over a year before - you had promised yourself that you’d never let it happen again.

That late, stormy night, the two of you had been sprawled out atop your plush mattress, surrounded by the four walls of your bedroom that were dim with shadows. And you had held a weak and thin and weeping Jisung in your arms in a tight embrace, as you vowed to his shaking form that you’d never allow him to fall so deep into the hole of darkness.

Never again.

So, pressing both of your palms to his cheeks, you forced him to look you straight in the eyes. He was a horrible liar. Jisung could never deny you when you stared deep into his eyes, so that’s exactly what you did.

“Now look at me and tell me that you’ve eaten something today, baby.” The words came out a little strangled at the end, and the sharp intake of breath that fell from Jisung’s lips was all you needed to know at that moment.

Immediately, you felt your lips quiver in a sob, as you fully leaned into him. Wrapping both arms around his waist in a tight grip, you buried your face into his warm neck, struggling to breathe as worried thoughts began to race through your mind.

“It hasn’t been that long, I swear-” He finally said, his soft voice taking a sharp blade to the tension that hung between the two of you. You felt his fingers grasp at your sides, digging into the fabric of your thick, oversized hoodie. “Just… it’s been so hectic around here that I haven’t found the time to-”

At that, you frantically pushed away from him, “There’s never an excuse, baby. Never. I don’t care how busy you are- you need to eat. You need to sleep… even if it’s just a few hours a night. You need to take care of yourself, because-” Your words cut off then, as the lump in your throat solidified and the tears began to flow from the corners of your eyes, heating your flushed cheeks.

“Because what, baby girl?” He questioned, his eyes softening exponentially at the sight of your tears. He reached forward, tucking a strand of your hair behind one of your ears before he brushed a few of your tears away with a gentle thumb.

“Because… I can’t lose you, Ji. I- I-” The breath caught in your throat then, as all of the fears of what could happen raced through your mind then. Of what could’ve happened if you hadn’t caught it in time. If you hadn’t visited him that night and hadn’t seen him up close. “I’m sorry… for visiting you so late, I-I should’ve been here, and I wasn’t.”

Jisung silenced you with a kiss, delicately pressing his forehead against yours, the scent of him - of freshly cleaned linen and sweet chamomile tea - danced around you. It reminded you of how familiar he felt, how sweet and kind and beautiful he was. And how you never, ever wanted to let him go.

“Please don’t apologize, sweetheart,” he began in a low, gruff voice, his words slightly strained in emotion. “I should be the one apologizing. I told you last time that I’d never let it get this far, yet here I am…”

You cracked your eyes open to the sight of his furrowed brows and saw the weary light that filled his gaze at that exact moment. “No- no it’s okay, Ji. You don’t have to say sorry, I understand you.” You flattened both hands against his chest, slowly pressing against the muscle there. “Just… just let me take care of you, yeah? Let me help you gain strength again.”

A tiny grin cracked across his mouth at your words, and he canted his head to one side, focus landing on the table just behind you, which was full of the food that you had brought with you. “If helping me gain my strength back includes devouring that food over there, I’m all for it.” He said in a mischievously-dark tone.

You rose an eyebrow his way, “It also includes you promising me that you’ll get a minimum of four hours of sleep every night... at least until you're done with promotions for this comeback.”

He let out a loud groan, pressing his head against the back of his chair in apparent agony. “Four hours? Babe- you’re killing me here.” He whined, screwing his eyes shut and frowning in displeasure.

“Well, it’s either that or- six hours.”

Jisung flashed you a glare, but it wasn’t menacing in the least bit. Instead, it only made you giggle in delight at the sight of it. Because suddenly, you realized that upon first entering his studio and seeing him, he had been acting… different.

More exhausted than usual,

And even... weary.

But soon after having cracked him open, and discovering his struggles with facing another downward spiral, your boyfriend immediately brightened.

Like, just the sight of you had helped relieve some of the pain.

Even if the circles were still dark under his eyes and even if his cheekbones were a little gaunt, at least he was starting to come back to his usual, bright self.

“Well now, four hours doesn’t seem too unreasonable…” Jisung started, running a hand through his hair and chuckling faintly.

You stood up from his lap then, nearing the table that was full of food and taking a seat on the sofa. “Good. Now c’mere, I’m starving.” You patted the space beside you, offering your boyfriend a warm smile.

“I haven’t eaten since… I can’t even remember when. I think it was last night’s dinner with the guys.” Jisung confessed as he took the seat beside you, already prying open one of the bags. His entire face lit up at the sight of the glistening, still-hot fried chicken. He turned to you then, a goofy kind of smile adorning his face. “Oh- what am I ever going to do with you? You’re just too perfect for me!”

Without any warning, Jisung was pulling you into a tight hug, peppering kiss after kiss across your entire face. You tried to protest against his affection - but in all actuality, you secretly adored it. Adored his attention and love. And of course, he knew this. So it wasn’t until you finally managed to throw him off of you that he stopped and leveled you with a mirthful smirk.

“Yeah, okay- I get it, you love me.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, inclining over the table and grabbing a saucy drumstick for yourself.

The silence lapsed between the two of you for a few beats, as you focused on the meal. When suddenly, Jisung was speaking again, but in a much quieter voice than before.

“Thank you, baby.”

You turned to him, brows slightly furrowing in question as you chewed on a slice of cheese pizza.

“I mean… you didn’t have to do any of this,” he looked around the table that was full of steaming hot takeout. “Yet, you still did. You visited me at my studio to surprise me, but I think you might’ve saved me in the process too.”

You reached over then, brushing a few of your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch, holding your hand close to his skin. “That’s what I’m here for, babe… to make you feel better. And I’ll always be here, no matter what. So every time you start to feel shitty, just call me, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

Jisung turned his face then, pressing a few delicate kisses against your fingertips. “And I hope you know that I’ll do the same for you, princess. Always. Whenever you need me, I’m here.”

Smiling, you tilted in once more to press a kiss against his lips. And in a split second, he was kissing you back. More fervently this time, and when the two of you pulled apart to catch your breaths, you felt the flush from before start to brighten your cheeks again.

“Holy fuck- I’m never getting enough of you,” was all that you heard your boyfriend say before he was tipping back into you to push his perfect, rosebud-like mouth against yours.

After a few beats of silence that were only filled with your kisses, you slanted away from your boyfriend and glared his way, “Okay, okay- but you better stop now mister, before I truly get angry.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, a devilish smirk widening the corners of his mouth. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do if I don’t stop?”

You hit his shoulder with a light fist, “I”m gonna eat all of this food myself, and leave none for you.”

Jisung’s impish grin dropped instantly at your words, and suddenly, he was diving headfirst into the food once more. As he stuffed his face full of pizza and chicken wings, cheeks puffing up like a cute little chipmunk, you could only chuckle softly and stare back at him in loving adoration.

Because no matter what he went through - you were always going to be by his side.

And it came in handy that he was a horrible liar, because at least he could never hide anything from you.

So matter what, no matter the hurdles that he would face in his life, you would always be right alongside him, helping him overcome them all. And you knew that he’d continually do the same thing for you in return.

Fin.

taglist: want to be added onto my taglist so that you always get notified when i post a new work? well then, comment below on this post/reblog it, and indicate your interest in my taglist and i'll add you... or, you can simply send me a msg and request to be added that way~

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