Fucking Love This - Tumblr Posts
We need to go back to using sailing ships full time like immediately. Yes it would take longer to get places but the Aesthetic is unmatched
Like there is nothing sexier hthan this
What if.....
insane
Love doesn’t exist. There is no such thing as love. Therefore, there’s no sorrow. That’s what I thought
devilman crybaby for @lieberts ✨
⛧ SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 ⛧
HELLO ALL! welcome to another year of selfshiptober. i've noticed this is pretty much the 'official' selfship tober event now, which honestly warms my heart! i love seeing what this wonderful community does with my prompts :)
this year, i'm doing things a little differently. EACH DAY HAS TWO PROMPTS ASSIGNED TO IT. the first set is SHIPPY, while the second set is SPOOKY. you may either COMBINE THE TWO PROMPTS TOGETHER or CHOOSE ONE OF THE PROMPTS. the spooky prompts are a bit on the grittier side and probably won't appeal to most, so if you'd like to only use the first set of prompts and completely ignore the second, be my guest! on the other hand, if you prefer the gritter prompts, you can only use the second set of prompts, you can do that too! if you want an extra challenge, you can create a piece that incorporates both of the day's prompts. you can also change your approach depending on how you feel that day!
there are no hard rules for this. YOU CAN START WORKING ON THIS CHALLENGE EARLY, but i encourage you to wait until october to post anything. YOU CAN ALSO CONTINUING WORKING ON IT AFTER OCTOBER ENDS! you can drag this shit out into december for all i care. just DON'T OVERWORK YOURSELF PLEASE.
without further ado, LET US PROCEED TO THE PROMPTS!
#1. confession | night.
#2. blanket | flame.
#3. embrace | blood.
#4. apple picking | fog.
#5. all dressed up | blade.
#6. carnival | haunted.
#7. rain | infection.
#8. swim | terror.
#9. music | masquerade.
#10. warmth | claws.
#11. comfort | recovery.
#12. married | ritual.
#13. party | magic.
#14. date night | vampire.
#15. games | hunt.
#16. candy | illusion.
#17. heart | feast.
#18. pining | violent.
#19. shared hobby | potion.
#20. trust | experiment.
#21. snuggle | nightmare.
#22. kiss | scars.
#23. movie night | slasher.
#24. baking | empty.
#25. rest | bandages.
#26. beautiful | grotesque.
#27. decorations | cemetery.
#28. brush | forest.
#29. pumpkin | lantern.
#30. flowers | snow.
#31. halloween | death.
TAG YOUR CREATIONS AS #SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 AND TAG ME IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO SEE! i cannot guarantee interaction as i struggle socially, but i promise i'll look at everything! HAPPY CREATING ♡
Couldn’t get this idea out of my head after making the last edit to this sound so now it’s in your heads too!!
CONSTANTINE (2005) dir. Francis Lawrence
Finished this Avacyn! Special thanks to @votecheckbox for putting the proxy together. You can download the proxy on my Ko-fi page.
Also be sure to check out vote_checkbox's Kofi-page as well to see her awesome work!
🕸️ ₊ ˖ ་. “Playin wit my coochie while he drive, we on our way to mars!” - Kinktober Day 7
paring: best friend!yoongi x fem!reader
genre: smut
tags/warnings: hand kink duh, dom!yoongi x subby!reader, established friendship/fwb relationship, finger sucking, humping, gagging, groping, dirty talk and other explicit language, praise, fingering, definitely in love with each other, yoongi thinks you’re a weirdo lmao (still wants you to use his hands however you want)
synopsis: your strange obsession with yoongi’s hands comes to light.
word count: 1k
yoongi doesn’t remember when he first realized you had an attraction to his hands, but he can count all the times he’s caught you gawking over them. he never judged you for it, but it was just funny seeing you go crazy over something so simple as his hands.
you were subtle about it at first, tracing the thick veins running down his arms and over his hands with your fingers. “you sizin me up or something babygirl?” he’d ask which you’d only giggle at. there were times during sex when his thick fingers were coated in your saliva from being hooked on your mouth. “that’s right pretty, taste that slutty cunt on my fingers.” or when he was teaching you how to play his hefty guitar, sitting perched up in his lap as his hands guided yours across the strings. “doing so good baby, just follow my hands.”
then there were the affirmations and compliments that you couldn’t stay away from giving. “yoon, your hands are so soft.” you’d say while he’d be massaging your plump ass cheeks as you laid on top of him in bed. “yoon, i like it when you wear rings, make your fingers look pretty.”you’d butter him up so he could shove those rings in your hole. “yoon, i love your fingers, they’re like the perfect size.” which he’d reply to with a hum, watching you while you watched nothing but his beautiful hands. he’d smirk when he finally caught on to your cute little kink. he decided to test his theory in the car one day.
your fingers twirled strands of your hair around, thighs pressing together every time yoongi tapped his fingers on the wheel along to the base of the music. he knew what he was doing and he got so much enjoyment out of it. “staring at my hands like you wanna fuck em sweetheart.” he snapped you out of your dazed out state. when he didn’t get a response his fingers clutched your chin and snapped your neck to face him while you sat at a red light. “come on… tell me what you want.” he nudged.
“i- i do…”
“i don’t know what that means, you do what?”
“you know…” you squirmed in your seat in embarrassment. there was no way he was doing this to you right now.
“y/n…” he cooed, your name rolling off his tongue so blissfully. this seemed like the longest light ever since he had the time to trace his soft thumb over your bottom lip, pushing it inside of your mouth. it was a natural instinct of yours for you to suck on it. “ah i know, don’t love my finger’s anymore do you, i see how it is.” he sighed and pulled his hand away right on the cue of the green light.
“yoon,” you dragged out your little nickname for him, tugging his hand back. yoongi was quick to cover your meaty thigh with his hand. he squeezed the flesh and dipped lower, tracing circles on your inner thighs. you didn’t even notice yourself spreading open for him. “you know i love them.”
“then let me make you feel good, i know you didn’t wear this tiny skirt for no reason.” he smirked. he had you once his fingers started rubbing you through the fabric of your panties. he had you a mess before he even did anything to you. it was all one swift motion, his hand palming your pussy, hooking his digits around your panties and thumbing your clit. in just seconds yoongi had you clutching the arm rest as he was knuckles deep in your cunt. he snickered at you. “damn girl, sucking me in so well, pretty as fuck while you doing it.”
your brain had gone to mush, not having a thought in your head other than wanting to finish all over his fingers. he had to pull into the first parking lot he saw, thinking he would crash at this point. he whipped in, never removing his fingers. “climb in the backseat real quick, imma fuck you right.”
he did just that, spreading your lips with his pointer and middle and spitting into your hole. you felt so special, his fat thumb rubbing on your swollen clit with two fingers plunging into you. “y-yoongi– ‘s too– s-so fucking– ahhh!” your back arched when he fucked up against your g-spot and spread his fingers while still being inside of you.
“mhmm– aren’t i so lucky, got a cutie with a tight pussy and a kink for my fingers.” your eyes rolled back along with your hips, following the movements of his fingers. “shit, you get so fucking wet for these fingers, dripping on my seats.”
“love your hands yoon, wanna fuck em forever.”
he hovered over you, chain dangling in your face as he went lower to intertwine your lips. “oh yeah, fuck em baby, let me see you come undone.” your moans fell into his mouth, both of you having unsteady breathing while trying to chase your high. you gripped his forearm and started grinding yourself on his hand. you could feel his smirk across your lips when he felt the way your walls clamped down on him. “calm down sweetheart they ain’t going anywhere, it’s only for you.”
“only for me?” you panted. “my hands?”
“all yours. cream on them.”
yoongi was sure to hold your hips down when you came all over his seats, you both watched your fluids drip from your worn out hole. he pushed it back in and snapped the fabric of your panties back, sealing the deed off. “so, my hands? seriously?” his serious expression turned into a gummy smile while you slapped his shoulders, pushing him away from you. “it’s cute, you’re a weirdo but it’s cute.”
“yoongi shut up! ugh you set me up.”
“you set yourself up bestie. you better be looking at my hands only.”
“trust me, i’m not cheating on your hands.”
© prettyprincejk 2023. all works are my own original projects. all rights reserved. projects are to not be uploaded, translated, and put on other platforms at all.
kinktober masterlist here
taglist: @pekejs @goteiii @teedino444 @eunoia-qi
“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”
♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort
♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K
♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:
As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.
His pretty housewife would be his dessert.
The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.
As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.
“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.
“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”
Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.
One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.
“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.
Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.
He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.
Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.
With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.
“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”
“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”
“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.
The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.
Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.
You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.
“Can I fuck you now?”
Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.
“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”
“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.
“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.
“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”
“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.
There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.
And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.
—
6:00 A.M.
That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.
That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.
He squinted his eyes and yawned.
Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.
Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.
“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”
With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.
“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”
“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.
“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.
“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.
“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”
Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.
“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”
The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.
Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.
You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.
“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”
“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”
You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.
It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.
—
8:37 P.M.
The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.
Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.
And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.
So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.
By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.
You turned your head to the left and to the right.
You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.
Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.
If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.
Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.
“Need some help?”
Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.
“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”
The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.
He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.
“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.
Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.
“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”
The man walked down the aisle and left.
There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.
That hair . . . that smile . . .
He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.
As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.
The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.
You sighed softly.
The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.
If only Satoru was with you.
Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.
After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.
Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.
But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.
Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.
Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.
However, something wasn’t right.
You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.
And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.
You heard that noise again.
The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?
Where should you go? What should you do?
A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.
You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.
You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.
Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.
Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.
You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.
The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.
—
12:27 A.M.
Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.
When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.
He was all alone in his dark hotel room.
He couldn’t hear you.
He couldn’t see you.
And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.
—
The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.
Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.
The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.
He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.
Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.
That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.
It was a telltale sign that you could die.
“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”
Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.
“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”
“He loves me.”
Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.
“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”
Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.
“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”
Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.
“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”
“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”
“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”
He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?
The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?
Maybe he was right.
After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?
You couldn’t help but cry even harder.
“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”
“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”
Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.
—
1:45 A.M.
The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.
His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.
Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.
Volcano head. Asparagus.
“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”
“Where is my wife?”
When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.
Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.
“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”
Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.
“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”
The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.
Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.
“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”
“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”
When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.
“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”
It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.
This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.
Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.
Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.
“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”
—
2:39 A.M.
Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.
Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.
Not today.
One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.
He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.
Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.
And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.
It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.
He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.
But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.
That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.
Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.
But you came first.
You would always come first.
—
He found you.
When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.
“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.
He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.
It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.
But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.
“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.
Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.
You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.
Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”
Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.
He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.
As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”
Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”
—
10:02 A.M.
Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.
Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.
Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.
He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.
“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”
Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.
“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”
Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.
“What? No, it’s not.”
You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.
As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.
“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”
“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”
“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”
Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.
“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”
Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.
“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”
Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.
He would make them suffer.
🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue
hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?
A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO
PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you
“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”
The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.
“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?
“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”
“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”
“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.
Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.
“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.
“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”
“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”
“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”
“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”
“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.
“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.
“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”
Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”
“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”
“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”
“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.
“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”
“No. And I hope it stays that way.”
“I—how dare you.”
That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.
But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.
Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?
Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”
“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.
“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”
“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?
It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.
“Uhh, I’m sorry—”
“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.
“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”
“Because I’m her prom date.”
“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.
Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Dude.”
Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura
rush hour - toji fushiguro x fem!reader
masterlist
minors + ageless blogs dni!!
dark content, stranger!toji, P in V, dubcon, public sex, pervert!toji, big dick!toji, fucking on a train seat, toji manhandles you, nameless and faceless!toji (hence him being a stranger), creampie, overstim for a sec, toji plays with your clit, cockwarming, grinding, degrading, dumbification,
summary: you were forced to ride the train during rush hour, not knowing your skirt was bunched up in front of a man who couldn’t help but fuck you.
wc: 1.7k
an: i want dick so bad.
-
every seat in the cart was full. you assumed the same for the others seeing the people crowding the doors preventing you from checking. it’s not your fault you got off two hours later than you should’ve. your supervisor threw more and more tasks at you demanding each one to be done immediately, not bothering to ask you to remind him what time he scheduled you to clock out that day. so there you were, taking the train during rush hour with no place to sit.
you were shoved from your spot next to the sliding doors once the train hit its next stop to the nearest pole in between the lucky people coming home from work who got to sit.
unbeknownst to you, the back of your skirt was left bunched up in the process giving the man behind you a surprise show of your white, cotton panties sucked up by your plump cheeks. he leans back in his seat to get a better view of your ass, spreading his legs wide enough to not wake the sleeping passengers on either side of him.
his lounge pants tighten around his growing cock. he moves his fingers from their place on his thigh to touch his base slightly, biting down on his maniacal smirk. they then move to the hem of your skirt with a touch so light you couldn’t feel the fabric hiking up further for him, careful not to accidentally nudge the apron still tied to your waist.
you jump at the feeling of someone’s fingers brushing the lace edges of your panties— he got too needy. before you could turn around and reveal yourselves to one another, his hands grip your waist and shove you onto his lap.
“shhh,” he breathlessly whispers into your neck before you can alert the people around you of the man’s advances.
he moves your hips over his now completely hard cock bulging through his sweats. your mouth opens slightly for a muted gasp, feeling taller than you were previously sitting on his upper thighs. yet he still had to lean his head down to command you, “stay quiet f’me, pretty.”
his left arm wraps around your waist, caging you to him. you admired the intricacies of his prominent muscles. they were as toned as those bodybuilders you’d see on magazine covers at the grocery store as a kid. when they flexed around your abdomen, it made you tense. your mind spins to grasp what’s happening to you.
his right arm moves below you as he lifts you with ease. his thumb pulled his underwear and pants down below his balls, shifting slightly to get more comfortable before sitting you on his cock.
his base plunged in between your thighs. you felt his tip barely peaking out the top of your squished thighs, his base rubbing against your clothed clit as well as your heat which was slowly leaking in response to him manhandling you.
he moved you slowly on his cock, your thighs clenching around his tip feeling his pre-cum drip on your skin. your previous tension slowly releases as you are overcome with pleasure. your warm unders grazing him making you shudder, gripping his thighs to find balance when you didn’t need to. he was already holding you tight to him. you just felt so dizzy.
“you okay?” he coos in your ear, aiding in your surrender to his dubious actions. he caught you in an exhausted state, and you couldn’t help but feel the need to relax into his harsh touch.
his movements subside, you taking the lead as you pick up the pace slightly, grinding on his cock. your breasts ached to be touched like an itch you can’t scratch. he uses his unoccupied hand to pull your apron down over your inner thighs when you begin to open your legs. you bite on your bottom lip to contain your quaint moans still aware of the innocent bystanders surrounding you and the possible felony charge.
you’re lifted again so he can move your panties to the side. you turn your head sharply in an attempt to see his face but he was staring down at his cock, angling it towards him so he can plunge his length into you without causing suspicion of those around.
your head falls forward when he sits you down halfway onto his long, thick cock. not to say you weren’t soaked by any means, but you weren’t lubricated enough for a cock of his size to enter practically a virgin pussy in comparison.
you cry to yourself loud enough for him to hear. “take it,” he spits in your ear with gritted teeth, forcing the rest of you down to his hips.
it burned. you wanted to cry out for help but when you felt him rub circles on your clit, you shut down again. biting back your moans as your cunt adjusted to his girth, cockwarming him. his motions sped up, flicking your clit like they did in those underground pornos you found on a depraved night.
your thighs clenched around his hand. your back arching as you were about to reach your climax on this faceless stranger's cock, until his hand left your pulsing bud and moved parallel to his other on your waist.
you two stayed like that for a full stop. the bottom half of you writhing on top of him begging for friction, the top being forced straight up with his grip on your waist, your face contorted in pleasure.
“you’re so pathetic,” he growls in your ear. “begging a stranger's cock.”
you whine.
“you want me to fuck you? you want a stranger to make you cum?”
you nod.
“you’re gonna let me cum inside you, huh?” he asks like you’ve agreed to it prior. like you agreed to all of this prior.
you shook your head no.
he lifted you off his cock making a shaking moan rip from your throat. lucky for you, the doors opened just a few seconds before, the train cart too loud to hear you. same with the people sleeping directly next to you two.
he smacks you right back down on his thighs with a wet plop. “god, woman,” he laughs. “i’m cumming in you.”
his moves you back and forth on his cock. you dig your nails into his legs; it was your mind telling you to stop. trying to get you to wake up from the cock drunk state you were in. it failed.
the pain he felt from your sharp acrylics only made him thrust with his movements. it was a pace that would make it obvious you were being fucked on a train to anyone paying attention, but no one looked. it was like you two weren’t there. it made you want to release the moans caught in your throat again but you continued struggling to remain quiet, not wanting to test it.
you leaned your head back on his shoulder, eyes rolling in the back of your head, fully submitting to him. you wanted him to fuck you hard. you wanted him to load his cum inside of you. you didn’t care about the consequences.
just as before, he didn’t need to guide you anymore. your hands were between both of your legs resting on the seat below to hold you up while you lazily bounced on his cock. your skirt lifted with every hop for him to see the way your pussy struggled to mold around him.
it was clear from his view your walls ached with each movement, sucking him in harder than any woman he’s fucked before. you whore, taking him willingly. wanting him to stretch you. wanting him to leave you sore for a good day or two. he hoped for longer. he wanted you to lay in bed tomorrow night still struggling to get comfortable, thinking of how much of a cumdump you are.
he wanted it so much, he had to tell you. he tugged on your hair making you lean back on his shoulder once more, “look at you. taking me so well. you feel it? me stretching you. i want you to remember how much of a slut you are. how you’re fucking yourself on me. how you’re made for nothing more than holding cum.”
you whine, thighs shaking from his words.
“are you seriously cumming? because i called you a worthless whore?” he groaned.
he wrapped your hair tight in his hands and began stroking up into you to prove his point. to fill you will his cum. hitting that part of your gummy walls that made you see stars. he watched your ass giggle as you slammed repeatedly on him, leaving red splotches with each smack. it was the longest orgasm you’ve had in a while. your feet cramping from your contorting toes, your body hunching forward in exhaustion, your walls continuing to pulsate, and your cream drenching his hips, seeping into his hair.
he still wasn’t close. he continued to slam himself into you relishing in the fact that no one seemed to notice the woman slumped in his lap like a rag doll. once you stopped clenching around him, his fingers immediately ran to your clit hoping your overstimulation would make you clamp back on him. you did.
you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore leaving him to carry and fuck you. you were starting to lose control of your voice letting out the occasional squeak. he didn’t care as much as he should because soon, his ropes of cum were shooting into your cervix, filling you fully. his lap was a messy mix of fluids, the force of his cum making everything else gush out of you.
the voice on the intercom was muffled to your ears but clear to him. his stop was next. he lifted your limp body off of his limp cock and shoved you up to stand. you barely caught yourself on the pole you were hanging on previously.
he pulled his clothes over his cock quickly in the process and stood up, leaving his seat to walk towards the sliding doors.
you on the other hand. your panties were still pulled to the side. toji’s cum dripping down to your mid-thigh.
#15 with Nanami, Gojo and Geto (TOGETHER) PLEASEEEEEEEE
HEHEHE YESSSSSS!!!!
There was only one rule. You weren't allowed to talk. And they were taking full advantage of it. Suguru's cock was down your throat, his eyes closed as he rocked in and out of you.
Kento was buried balls deep in your pussy, using you to his liking. Your clit, your poor inattended clit, kept pulsing, angry heat flowing through it as it engorged wth arousal. Your hips kept bucking over air as you tried to find something, anything, to rub against, to provide a little bit of friction to ease the tension.
"What're you doing kitten?' Satoru asks tauntingly, looking at you directly in the eyes. Your gaze flicks downwards, towards your thighs but he pretends to have not understood.
"I can't understand you. Can you repeat that?" Deep masculine laughs fill the room as you whimper against the cock in your mouth. Satoru comes over to you and grabs you by the ankles, spreading your legs apart even further, making Kento's thursts even deeper, fucking almost up to your cervix.
"Oh, what's this?" the white-haired man acts dumb and points to your hardened clit. "I wonder what this does?" He runs the pad of his index over it, snickering as you shriek, the noise muffled as Geto continues to fuck your throat.
"Ohh...I see." Satoru teasingly rubs the bud for a seconds, and does so just long enough for you start relaxing before stopping. An animalistic noise of need leaves you as you arch your hips towards him, begging to continue.
"Did that feel good?" he mocks. "Aw, poor baby, do you want me to take care of this for you?” He punctuates the 'this' by pressing a finger all the way down onto your clit, making you jerk, nearly choking on Suguru's cock. Suguru pulls out and shoots Satoru a withering look.
"You're fucking with my orgasm Satoru. Either finger the slut or don't. Make up your damn mind."
"She's gonna cum either way," Kento jeers as he bullies himself against your cervix, making you cry out, the sound freely echoing through the room now that your mouth was free. "I can feel her pussy clenching me each time."
"Were you always this noisy?" Satoru asks you.
"Why do you think we keep her mouth stuffed? Otherwise she moans like a bitch."
He stuff his cock back down your throat, your eyes watering as you take him.
"Smart," Satoru concedes. "Don't need the whole building hearing what a good time our free-use is having."
He starts on your clit again, and this time, you have no control, cumming almost immediately from the desperation. Satoru's blue eyes watch in fascination as the bud spasms repeatedly.
"Next time I want to hear how loud she gets."
Send me a prompt!
“Hark,” a voice boomed in his ears.
The voice was not one, but many, coming from every direction and ringing in his skull to where he thought it might crack open. The deepest voice made his chest shutter, bass shaking his core; the most shrill rang even when it had stopped. With gritted teeth and clenched eyes, he clapped his hands over his ears as the voice continued:
“Thy hand is sullied. Return the Sacred Blade whence it rested.”
I really hate that pixel art is becoming associated with NFTs, pixel art rules
Inktober day 29, Broom Maker