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𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒!

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: JJK men & their nasty, perverted habits . . . ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, & choso.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: MINORS DNI — fem! reader, reader wears a dress, drinking, smut, grinding, whining, riding, masturbation, panty stealing, touching, creampie, penetration, unprotected, etc.

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐘! - NANAMI

Kento Nanami is a gentleman.

He always opens doors for you, never shows up late for dates, and is truly an old-fashioned romantic.

However, he just can’t keep his hands to himself.

The two of you are attending an important gathering related to his corporate job. There’s expensive drinks, classical music, and soft chatter.

You and Nanami make your way around, engaging in small talk while sipping on champagne, and Nanami’s large hand is pressed against your back.

You’re having a conversation with the wife of his boss, and Nanami’s hand starts to go lower and lower, and he grabs your ass rather quickly. You keep your composure, but Nanami’s breath hitches a bit as he clears his throat.

Feeling your ass, even just for a second, was starting to make him lose control.

“Sorry, if you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Nanami suddenly says before dragging you away.

He takes you into one of the bathrooms and shoves you up against the sink.

“Kento,” you whine. “We’re at a gathering.”

“I know,” he whispers into your ear. “I just can’t keep my hands off of you.”

Nanami starts to grind his hard, clothed dick against your ass, moaning softly.

You simply looked too phenomenal in that dress. As his hard cock strains painfully against the fabric of his pants, the only form of relief came when your ass rubbed against it.

“We need to leave,” he grips your hips, pressing himself against you even more as you gripped the edges of the bathroom counter. “If I don’t take you home now, I’ll cum right in my pants.”

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐑! - GOJO

Satoru Gojo was ready to stuff you with his seed as soon as you both made it home after your wedding.

He had often dreamed about having children with you, but in particular, he wanted to fill you up until he couldn’t physically cum anymore.

Gojo thrusted in and out of you at a quick pace. His hand was pressed underneath your knee as he held your leg back, as close to your chest as he could. You could feel him inside of you even more that way. The thick veins running along his cock rubbed your walls deliciously, and the way your body jerked from his thrusts were starting to make you dizzy.

And he couldn’t get enough. By now, he had finished inside of you already, but he had to do it a second time. Perhaps, a third time as well.

His balls tightened as another orgasm started to overwhelm him, and he groaned.

“I’m gonna cum again, baby,” he warned. “I’m gonna cum deep inside of you. You’re gonna take it all for me, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

“I gotta fill you up — I have to.” As another load of his cum shot out of his aching dick and inside of you, he pressed a hand down against your stomach.

“You feel it?” He continued to thrust and moan. He needed to stuff you as much as he could. “You feel my cum, don’t you?”

“There’s so much of it,” you said with a soft moan.

He was still cumming and cumming, and it didn’t seem like he would ever stop. And, god, he hoped he wouldn’t somehow.

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇! - GETO

Suguru Geto was a man who always knew what to say. His words were always powerful and wise.

They were also downright filthy, too.

No matter where you both were — at dinner in a nice restaurant, in the movie theater, at the airport — Geto couldn’t help but press his lips against your ear, and whisper something he knew would get your panties wet.

Today in particular, you were both at the grocery store, waiting in line patiently with a cart full of food.

Suddenly, Geto pressed himself against your backside. To nearby shoppers, he simply seemed like an affectionate partner, but you knew what was coming.

Geto leaned down a bit, his warm breath patting against your ear.

“Let’s head home after this. I really wanna eat your pussy before dinner. Let’s see how much of your cum I can swallow.”

“Suguru,” you whispered softly. “We’re in public.”

“No one can hear me, sweet girl. I bet I could reach my hand into your pants and rub your clit, and no one would notice. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I-”

“Shhh,” he smiled a bit, although you couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait until we get home, but once we do, we’re gonna fuck and fuck all night long.”

He gave your ear a slow, little lick, and stepped away from you, grinning as he started to put the groceries on the conveyor belt.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐘! - CHOSO

“Please,” a soft, desperate whine fell from Choso’s lips. “Make me cum again, please.”

The gorgeous guy started to squirm around beneath you, attempting to raise his hips, chasing the feeling of your tight cunt around him.

“Ride me again,” Choso gripped your hips. “Please ride me again.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. Slowly, he started to glide you up and down along his cock, moaning softly.

“You’re so impatient,” you teased. Despite your words, you helped him out by pressing your hands against his chest, and riding him once again.

“Oh my god,” Choso whispered. “Feels so good. Don’t stop, okay? I need to cum again.”

Your pussy milked his cock until he could no longer form any coherent sentences.

“Baby, please . . . shit, baby. I can’t hold it, I can’t- please, oh fuck.”

Moan after moan fell from between his pretty lips, and without warning — he couldn’t speak well enough to say anything — Choso shot another load of cum right inside of you.

You both paused to catch your breath, but not for long, as Choso started to squirm around once again.

“Another,” he whined softly. “Don’t stop, please. Do it again . . . I wanna cum again.”

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑! - TOJI

When Toji Fushiguro asked to come to your house, you thought nothing of it.

It wasn’t unusual for him to come over, but little did you know, he had a habit of snooping around.

He liked to see what kind of things you had in your home, and eventually, he knew by heart what brand of toothpaste you preferred and whether you kept certain condiments in the fridge or in the cabinet.

But, his favorite place to snoop was in your bedroom.

Often, he’d say, “I’m gonna go piss,” while getting up from the couch and making his way down the hall. But he never went into the bathroom.

He’d go into your bedroom instead and open your drawer, growing hard at the sight of your undergarments.

He’d typically just steal one pair of panties and shove them into his pocket.

But it wasn’t good enough.

After all, your underwear smelled like detergent. It didn’t smell like you — or, more specifically, your sweet pussy.

That was when he snuck into your laundry room and went into your dirty clothes hamper, digging until he found the perfect pair of used panties.

He shoved them into his pocket, and returned to the living room.

Later on, when he got home, he put those panties right into his mouth, jerking off as he daydreamed about eating your pussy. It was magical, especially now that he knew how it would taste.

Then, he laced those panties around his hard cock, fucking his fist as he shot load after load into the soft material, moaning your name as he did so.

🏷: @sad-darksoul

Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for. 

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention. 

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.” 

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot. 

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.” 

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long. 

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open. 

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear. 

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind. 

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear. 

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate. 

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction. 

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is. 

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes. 

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery. 

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time. 

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.” 

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer. 

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual. 

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile. 

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else. 

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home. 

⌕ naruto - itachi uchiha.

like or reblog if you save/use.

nii-chan series! gojo satoru x fem!reader tw dark content, non-con, gojo-nii being manipulative, pseudocest, penetrative virgin reader, spitting in the end

tagging: @booksweet @fushigurocockslut @lazy10ieiri @sassyeahhhh @cotton-curse @miss-ryomen @duskamethyst @haikyutiehoe @ninefuckingoneone - ok truth be told idk if yall okay or not with this kind of content if you see your name is missing its bcs im scared to tag everyone jwbekrf and im literally running on coffee and no sleep so just take it kjhrfkhjrkbr and its series bcs lmao i wanna make geto next

- niichan series! gojo satoru

everyone always say satoru is just going to abandon you, he's a child trapped in an adult body, he couldn't take care of you.

but you know your older brother well better than everyone else. you know who to run to when you had a bad day in school, the one who's willing to run to store late night to get you last minute art supply, to cook and to cloth you; satoru has been nothing but a good brother, despite being related nothing by the paper signed by him.

he made sure to sent you to proper college, had proper apartment (which he always crashes by) and a credit card with his name embossed on for you to spend. all under one condition, you need to listen to every single word he said. and that's all you did.

when toru-nii said "you need straight As," you'll bent your back backward, staying up and scoring your exam and got yourself into university of tokyo. satoru got the bragging rights to your smart brain. and when toru-nii said, "no changing your hair style and dyeing your hair," you took it to heart when you keep your boring old style while you watched your friends switched colours every month only for you to say no when they offered too. "nii-chan might get angry," you said sheepishly as you offered to help with theirs instead.

but when toru-ni said, "no boyfriend until i said so," it was kinda hard for you to oblige when you've been eyeing this boy in your class for so long. it was hard to ignore his pretty blue eyes and spiky black hair, he has the mysterious charm to him but every time he smiled at you you felt tingles all over you. he walked his two dogs around your neighborhood and made sure to call you when he passed by so you could pet his two huskies.

the first time toru-nii caught you with him, he let it off. you knew him well, he'll sulk and throw his bitch fit but still crawl into your bed at night to apologize, pulling you in his arms before gently kissing your forehead. "he's a friend, toru-nii. i promise," you were honest about that as you nuzzled into his neck, his arms tight around you.

so you sneaked around. making out in the university's library before your last class of the day, the sneaky "my brother's away on business trip" so he could stay in the weekend. you haven't done anything yet, you toyed around, feeling him in your mouth, he went down on you, but you never get enough time to move into more serious thing.

you touched yourself to the mental image of him but always toru-nii will end up creeping in your mind. what annoys you wasn't his stupid face replacing your sweet crush, it was the fact that it only fueled you harder as you circled your clit harder, imagining his rough palm on your tits as you bit down on your lips as your orgasm approached. you got all warm up harder around toru-nii now, he seems to catch that. his hand lingers on your waist more, his kisses got closer to your lips and he spend more nights in your bed longer than his own.

"i'll cook dinner tonight, don't be late."

his voice startled you from what you were doing in the bathroom. you snapped out of your mind, mentally beating yourself as you threw toru-nii's shirt across the room that you've been holding under your nose. you pushed your hair away from your face, focusing on getting ready. reaching for your cologne only to notice his own sitting uncapped. it couldn't be so wrong, he has a lot of perfume laying around as you spritzed a couple along your neck and clothes. toru-nii smells so attractive, you like the way the scent lingered on you.

"i have one class only, i won't be late," you grabbed your stuff and ran pass him. you backtracked, stealing the toast from his hand before running out. satoru stood there, completely mesmerized. was that my cologne she's wearing?

you spend your day with the boy you liked, he recognized your cologne as something so different but he likes it. you stayed back, completely forgot your promise to toru-nii as you hung out at the nearby coffee place. it was until he offered to walk you home when you realised you were late. "shit, shit, shit, he's going to be so angry," you panicked as you shove everything in your bag.

the black haired boy chuckled nervously, "why? you don't have another boyfriend waiting for you is it?" he followed you around, insisting to walk you home. "you don't understand, toru-" you startled, glued to the ground as you stood feet away from toru-nii. you could already see the disappointed look on his face, but it worsened when you felt the boy's hand on your waist.

"should i walk you home?" he asked and you shook your head, eyes glued to your big brother. you could heart your heart beating rapidly against your chest. you've only seen toru-nii angry once and it was years ago. toru-nii is mean when he's mad. "m-my brother's here," you shrugged off his hand and smiled nervously, "i have to go." you rushed towards your big brother, ignoring his sharp glance as you rushed immediately to his car.

satoru doesn't understand what you see in this boy. he knows the kind of boy he is, what he wants with his little sister is nothing but what's underneath your clothes. with his hands shoved in his pocket, glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, he shot the boy a smile before walking away. not before giving him a warning to stay away from you. "he's just a friend," you repeated that sentence a million time but toru-nii no longer believes in that. you could see his jaws tensing as his feet pressed harder on the pedal. he's ignoring you again.

you sunk into your seat, eyes glancing out. you felt his hand resting on yours, lacing it together before bringing it up to his nose. his cologne is gone. he let go of your hand and focused on driving as silence overwhelmed you. like a little kid, you followed him up to your apartment when you arrived. toru-nii had never been this angry before.

"get in," he muttered, unlocking the door. you glanced at him, not wanting to anger him more as you stomped your feet inside. tossing your shoes aside, hanging your coat, it didn't take long for you to be pushed against the wall. he pinned you against the wall, hands around you neck with another beside your head.

"all you have to do is listen to what i say. have i not done enough for you?"

"nii-chan," you whined as his grip tightened.

"i raised you, supported you and all i asked is just a small favour. prancing around with boys like that like a little slut, are you even a virgin?" he hissed as he unbuttoned your jeans. "i am!" you cried, fingers dug in his forearm as his fingers caught your clit. he found it amusing the way your body tensed up as his fingers slowly moved against your bundle of nerve. but then realization dawned on him; you've done this before. "he touched you, didn't he?" he asked, too calmly for your liking. you shook your head, denying it but it was clear in your eyes. his hand around your throat tightened.

"don't lie to me, y/n," he muttered, face so close to yours, you could feel his heavy breathing.

"we didn't do anything, we didn't fuck, i'm a grown woman, you can't police me on whether i can touch myself or not."

he scoffed, "so you touched yourself to him huh?"

"it's none of your business!" you hissed, slamming your fist on his chest. pulling his hand out, he dragged you by the neck before tossing you on the bed. you coughed as you struggled to catch a breath, but toru-nii didn't have time to wait. "as long as you're under my roof, living off my money, it's my goddamn business, y/n-chan," he gave a mirthless laugh as he pulled you by your ankle. grabbing you by the neck, he pulled you closer, "did you think about him when you touched yourself?" he whispered, eyes nothing but delirious and anger.

you shook your head, tears spilling on the corner, "i promise, it's not him, okay, it's you, it's you i promise i think about you." his eyes softened a little as you reassured him. tossing you back on the bed, he climbed on you, his eyes lingered before he leaned forward, his lips brushed so gently against your lips. you both know it's wrong, but why does it felt so good? his kiss came off needier than you as your fingers intertwined.

your clothes came off so easily and it felt odd as toru-nii's eyes lingered all over your bare body. he won't let your arms over your bare chest, your hands pinned above your head. he wanted to see all of you. his own clothes came off next and it was just like you imagined. you couldn't help but to press your thighs together when his cock sprung out. running the tip over your glistening slit, before slowly pumping himself, enjoying the way your hole spasming over a single touch is throwing him off the edge.

"nii-chan," a soft fuck escaped his lips with the way you're mewling for him. snaking hand underneath your thigh, he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. "did he touch you?" he asked as he traced his cock along your slit. he loved the way your moan escaped your lips every time the tip caught on your clit. he could feel your legs trembling.

"n-no, he touched my clit that's all."

"tsk, tsk, he should've known better to not touch what's mine," satoru voiced his dissatisfaction as his thumb replaced his cock. you sounded so pretty, eyes rolled back as he kept a steady pace on your clit. your droopy eyes, your hand around his wrist as he edged you so easily to your orgasm. "toru," you whined, heels buried into the bed as you struggled to squirm away. he wasn't stopping, he wanted to cleanse you of other men's touch. your body belonged to him, he's going to make sure you know it tonight.

you were delirious, back arching as your stomach tightened, mix of moans and his name repeated on your tongue as he felt the throbbing of your clit, you came. he didn't stop, until you begged him too, not used to being overly stimulated. but toru-nii could change that. he slipped two fingers in, satisfied with the tightness of your cunt clenching on his fingers. the white remains of your orgasm drooled out with every pump of his fingers.

"so tight, baby, don't worry, nii-chan is gonna make you nice and loose," he cooed gently, pressing his lips against your thigh, "i don't want to hurt you." his breath felt warm against your loins, one sly lick of his tongue on your clit send you jumping. "toruu! w-wait, no,no-" you whined, but he paid your pleas no attention as his lips suckled gently on your sensitive clit. you never felt like this before, it all felt so new to you. you never went for second after you're done, and toru-nii hasn't even put himself in. your loud pleas and moans echoed the room as he pinned you down, tongue tracing and prodding.

"you'll come again, i want to taste you so badly," he cooed, lapping faster on your clit. the fingers and tongue switched when he felt your jerking legs, he wants to feel your sweetness on his tongue as you came. your hand half kneaded, half pushing his head away. you felt like you could break when his tongue fucked you faster.

"nii-chan, please please, i can't, too much too much," you begged, his speed didn't decrease or faltered at all. your grip to the sheet where whitening as satoru managed to coaxed out your second orgasm. your face warmed up from the loud lewd slurping of your big brother.

"fuck, you tasted so sweet," he made sure you'll see as he licked his fingers full of you clean before hovering over you, "you see, this is why you don't go around prancing with other boys. they'll only hurt you."

his lips traced kisses all over your belly and breasts. he kissed your collarbone and neck before tracing his tongue along the column of your neck, "nii-chan can't let that happen, i can't let them hurt my little sister," you gasped as you felt his tip prodded your clenching hole. he held you down firmer, shushing as his lips moved from your jaw to your burning ear. "niisan will make you feel so good you only need me in your life okay? remember when you promised me forever?" he kissed the shell of your ear, "well i'm claiming it tonight." his hand clasped over your lips as his cock split your virgin cunt apart.

your screams muffled, eyes so glossy from the pain and pleasure with your toes curling into the sheet. satoru hushed you repeatedly, caressing your side gently as he promised it'll be alright. other men would've ravished you immediately after knowing you're virgin, but not your brother. he didn't move immediately, focusing on letting your cunt swallowing him whole. he felt a little resistance from your cervix, annoyed that he couldn't fit in you whole. he sat on his knees, your hips hoisted up onto his thigh.

"toruu," you cried, "s'full." you're right, he could see the prodding of his tips on your lower belly and he's obsessed with the way it look.

he wants to be in you forever. his thumb gently circled your clit, relax rolled off his tongue repetitively. you were clenching so hard around his length, he didn't want to have to fuck you hard, toru-nii didn't want to hurt you. his hand on your thigh, gently caressing it left a trail of burning along your skin. "m-more, please," you whimpered meekly, your hands curled against your chest.

he loves the way you got all choked up when he first moved. every thrust punching air out of your chest he had to remind you to breath. he was getting as delirious as you with your cunt swallowing his cock so good. his hands tightened around your waist, you could feel the bruises forming but you couldn't give a fuck. you just want him to keep going and going.

"niisan! s'good, more," you could barely string up words, something he found so cute. "so dumb for your big brother's cock, huh?" his hand moved to grab one your tits, roughly squeezing it as he picked up his speed. he could take more time with you later, you're his after all. satoru just wanted to fill your cunt with his seeds and watched your cunt struggled to keep it all in. all these idea of breeding you had his cock twitching. he pressed his hand on your throat, focusing your dreamy eyes on him.

"you're so good to me," he pressed a kiss on your trembling lips, "so so so good, what do i do with good imouto like you?" his thumb slipped into your mouth. a quiet fuck escaped his lips as you sucked on the thumb slowly. "god, you're so perfect, you'll let me fill you up so good right?" you nodded eagerly, releasing his thumb with a pop.

"please fill me up, niisan, please, please."

how could satoru say to to that pretty pleading face?

he focused on his thrust, it was getting sloppier now. your arousal leaked out with every thrust, pooling underneath the bed with strings connecting his pelvic to yours. your legs draped over his, his hands holding on to your thighs to steady himself. he's so close, he's about to cum. he rolled his eyes back to the sound of your desperate whine telling him you're about to cum and the loud echo of the clapping of your skin together. satoru was about to be overstimulated as you. but it will all be worthy.

like a responsible big brother, he made you cum first. milking out your third orgasm, you were almost gone, drowsy from pleasure. your cunt were spasming around him but he wanted you wide awake. he wanted you to see how he filled you up. it was as if your body was trained to relax when his fingers wrapped around your neck. "nii-chan is so close, i'm going to fill you up good okay, baby?" you gasped as the hand tightened.

like a good little sister, you begged. tongue lolling out, drools all over your chin and cheeks kind of beg. niisan, fill me up, please you make me feel so good, no one makes me feel better than you, toruu-niii, please cum in me.

it didn't take satoru long before his own body tensed up, his speed faltered as loud cuss escaped his lips. ropes after ropes of his thick warmth spurted all over your wall. you thought his cock on you felt good, but the spasming of his cock as he filled you up felt even better. your big brother looks so good undone, chest glistened in sweat as he heaved, his white hair sticking to his forehead with only the white of his eyes visible.

it took him awhile to come to his senses, cock still buried in you as he leaned forward to kiss you on your forehead, "such a good girl for me. you're ruined, no other boys will want you anymore. you're only good for your big brother, understand?" his fingers underneath your chin. you nodded. he cupped your jaws, prying it opened and you watched excitingly as spit dripped down from his mouth on your tongue. you swallowed like a good girl he praised you to be.

"nii-chan loves you so much okay? you don't need any other boys, nii-chan is here for your forever."

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost.

Gojo X Batman 🦇

Reblogs are appreciated!!

file #3: the foot fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!nanami kento x reader (jjk)

length: 2.1k.

warning: non/con, fem!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), foot jobs, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of kidnapping, unbalanced power dynamics, and cannot mention it enough: feet.

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up here.

Which was to say, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up in this position, not this physical location – the small kitchen of Nanami’s up-until-recently neglected apartment, back pressed against the rounded edge of a pristine marble countertop and hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles were beginning to turn white. That, you could explain in fifteen words or less: Psychotic Ex-Boyfriend Kidnaps Overly Trusting Partner To Roleplay Repressed Domestic Fantasies, with further elaboration possible if you ever got the chance to talk to anyone who wasn’t currently holding you hostage. That, as much as you hated it, was normal. You knew why you were here.

It was much less normal to have Nanami on one knee in front of you, head bowed and one of your feet sitting in the palm of his hand. You hadn’t decided whether it was good abnormal or bad abnormal, yet, but still – not normal.

It must’ve been a rough day. He always looked tired when he got home, but tonight, he seemed exhausted – blond hair in a state of styled disarray, tie gone and shirt already partially unbuttoned, the circles under his eyes just a shade darker than they had been that morning. There was a cut on his cheek, too, and a tear along the wrist of his sleeve. Usually, he would’ve tried to get you to fuss over the damage, to trade privileges like a few minutes of T.V. and the latest news about your friends and family and not being handcuffed to his bed whenever he couldn’t watch you himself for sex and domestic labor and the faux-reciprocation of his obsession, but you hadn’t been able to say anything, let alone do anything before he’d fallen into his current position at your feet, his cheek resting gingerly against the inside of your thigh and his pale face slightly pink. He hadn’t said anything, either. You were starting to think he never would.

Unable to find an explanation written on the back of his head, you turned your attention to yourself. You’d been thinking about what you were going to make for dinner when he got home, because cooking meant he had to trust you with something more dangerous than a plastic spoon and you couldn’t go back to not being able to hold your own toothbrush, even if that meant having to trip over yourself to play housewife with your captor. You were dressed for housework, but that didn’t mean much. Nanami picked out all of your clothes, and he liked you in soft, pastel silk gowns and cutesy, garish vintage dresses. Your current dress was far from overly provocative – the neckline above your collarbones, the skirt falling to your knees. He’d seen you in it before, too, and never had this reaction.

The only new factor was your socks, but that would’ve been ridiculous. It was a new pair – a far cry from the thigh-highs and nylon stockings he usually bought for you. The material was thick and white and cottony, only ankle-high with ribbed hems and a lace trip. He was cupping the arch of your foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole, and the plush fabric rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as he shifted his hold ever so slightly downward. More out of reflex than anything, you jerked back, your toes curling downward as you tried to weakly pull yourself out of his hold, and as if pulled out a trance, Nanami snapped up at you, tired eyes weary and lips slightly parted. Your eyes met his, and for a second, it was all you could do to stay still, to stay quiet, to not yell or scream or thrash until finally, Nanami’s weary expression broke into a slight grin, an airy laugh trickling past his lips as his stare fell back to your foot. “They’re… cute,” he started, slowly, nuzzling his cheek gingerly against your thigh. “I knew they would be, but—” A pause, a kiss to the tender patch just above your knee. “—you always manage to surprise me.”

You managed to smile shakily. “Sorry, Kento, I didn’t mean to distract you. Why don’t you sit somewhere a little more comfortable? I can start on—”

“In a minute.” Another hand was brought up and wrapped around your ankle, just above the lace trim of your sock. His forehead settled against your thigh as he lifted your foot gently and with an almost painful sort of delicacy, pressed the sole of your foot into the bulging tent in his pants that you’d been trying so hard to ignore. You felt his lazy grin press into your skin, and something cracked open in your chest.

This time, you couldn’t stifle your immediate reaction; lurching back, your hands finding the edge of the counter as you tried to pull away from him. It took nothing for him to keep you in place, though, and even worse – the ball of your heel pressed into his shaft as you tried to get away, rolling against his cock with a little too much force and drawing a low grunt from the base of Nanami’s throat. Instantly, you regretted moving at all. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Again.”

You fell silent. His head lulled forward, pressing into your thigh, and somehow, you managed to spit something out. “…I’m sorry, Kento?”

“Again, angel, please,” he muttered, his eyes falling shut. You didn’t move, but he didn’t need you to – his hips jutting forward, grinding stiltedly against the sole of your foot. Any vague illusion of wholesomeness was forgotten entirely as he fell onto his knees, unabashedly rutting against your leg with all the shame and all the pride of a stray animal, desperate for its twisted idea of affection. You made a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself, to focus on the white tiles of his kitchen (not quite dirty, but not as clean as they could be, either – you’d have to do the floors tomorrow), then the far wall (there was a layer of dust along the edge of the light switch fame – you could take care of that later on tonight), but it would’ve been impossible not to think about the wet, hot breath fanning over your thigh, the stiff cock throbbing against your foot. You thought would’ve gotten used to his—uh, his unwanted attention by now, gone numb to the feeling of his mouth on your neck and his fingers on your clit, but this was a type of fresh humiliation you weren’t familiar with, the kind of unthinkable debasement that made your face heat-up and your thought spiral down, down, down. When your paralysis persisted, Nanami grit his teeth, rocked your foot against the length of his cock without ever letting his hips stop moving – like he was trying to fuck a hole through your heel. It was a rough, jagged motion; almost clumsy, despite the fact that you’d never seen him so much as trip. It might’ve left you off-balance, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter so tightly. You might’ve fallen, if you thought that you would be enough to make him stop.

You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to suck in a shuddering breath, but that was a mistake – showing any kind of weakness was a mistake. You felt one of his groping hands on your upper thigh, then your ass, finally finding the thin, flimsy material of your panties and pulling. There was no elegant way to strip you down, so he didn’t try to be elegant. There was a harsh tearing sound, the feeling of blunt nails scraping against unprotected skin, and then, scraps of ruined material were scattered on the floor at your feet, the skirt of your dress pushed up to your waist as he forced his face between your legs, mouth already open and tongue already lapping over your cunt.

It was a bad position; the distance too far, the angle too sharp, everything about strained and awkward and unnecessary, but Nanami didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care. His tongue ran over the length of your slit before he latched onto your clit and sucked. Instantly, it was too much – a strangled cry tearing past your lips as you buckled into yourself, your knees nearly giving out as another reverberating moan sent pangs of something sharp and electric stabbing into your core. Against your better judgement, your hands shot from the counter to his hair, your fingers soon knotted in a mess of blonde in a futile attempt to pry him away from you. He only melted into your hostile touch, one of his hands remaining on your ankle while the other found your hip, keeping you still and pliable as his attention dipped lower, the flat of his tongue pushing broad patterns into your entrance as the bridge of his nose ground lazily against your clit. “Love you,” he mumbled, his voice little more than a throaty, ragged murmur – almost too deep to be audible and constantly interrupted by the sound of your slick on his lips, on his tongue. You wished he wouldn’t talk. You wished he wouldn’t pretend to love you. You wished he wouldn’t force you to do the same. “You’re so—so pretty, and so perfect, and—”

A guttural moan cut him off, and his attention shifted, his head lulling back just far enough to stare up at you with eyes so soft and so tender, you could almost forget he was humping your leg like a bitch in heat. You were suddenly aware of your own distraught expression – all grit teeth and misty eyes, misery and pleasure flooding through your veins in tandem. You wanted to ask him not to look at you. You needed to ask him to stop, but—

You felt a frigid ache in your left wrist – the wrist he’d kept shackled to the bedpost for the first three weeks of your kidnapping. You tried to open your mouth, but your tongue was deathly dry, your throat stuffed with cotton, the feeling not entirely unsimilar to the residue left behind by the velvet gags he used to shove in your mouth when you didn’t want to lay there and let him break you. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything as he let out a final, primal groan – as you felt something thick and hot soak through the fabric of his dress pants and into your ridiculous, childish socks. He whined into your cunt, fingers burrowing into your waist as he dragged you that much closer to his mouth. His tongue fucked shallowly into your cunt, and a whine caught in your throat as your vision burnt white, as you came unwillingly on his tongue.

You couldn’t do it, anymore. With his hand still on your hip, his cum still searing into the sole of your foot, you collapsed. Nanami caught you before you hit the ground, and you hated him for it. You wished he’d let you crumble to the tile floor, wished he’d just watch and laugh as you curled into a ball and stayed there for the rest of the night, the rest of the week. You wished he’d—

Oh, god, you’d made yourself cry. Nanami let out a breathy chuckle as you sniffled and tried not to wail, kissing your tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness you couldn’t seem to link to the man who’d just cum to a pair of socks. “It’s alright, angel. You can let it out.” Another kiss, this one to your forehead. “Too much?”

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. You felt his arms wrap around you, keeping your body pressed into his chest as he pushed himself to his feet. There were a few seconds of quiet, unthinking solace before he lowered you onto your shared bed – a pair of shackles still hanging, unlocked and waiting, from the headboard. Immediately, you scrambled for the nearest pillow, burying your face in the plush material and sobbing openly. Nanami’s comfort came in the form of a wry grin, a pair of hands on your hips, turning you onto your stomach and starting on the buttons of your dress.

As he settled between your legs, his calloused fingertips skirting over your bare skin, you couldn’t help but wonder if the shackles had really been so bad.