#He's already something between the two bodies but was too human for the League's wants since the puppet bodies were gifts from the Caves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

7K notes · View notes

its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons · 3 years

Text

pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

July 9th: VIP MEMBERS, GET YALLS JUICE!!

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

Text

In the Garden || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

hello babes! Something a little different today-- I didn’t have time to write a request that I was going to be pleased with, so this is something that’s been sitting in my drive for a while. Hope you like it!

Submit requests here!

contains: sexual innuendo, gun mention

wordcount: 2.4k

You can’t remember the last time you wore a dress, much less a gown like the one JJ was zipping you into now-- dresses weren’t practical for field work with the BAU, and even when you’d worked in the counterterrorism unit, you’d much preferred a professional blouse and pair of slacks. But the First Lady had decided to throw a ball in the White House to celebrate federal employees, and the Bureau was receiving an award, which the Director had hand-picked the BAU to accept. So, gown. Even though you’d much prefer to be changing into a pair of sweats-- you had been called on a case two days before the ball, and Garcia saved the day by running to everyone’s apartments and grabbing their nice clothes so you all wouldn’t be late. Which is how you found yourself squeezing into a sleek off the shoulder number in the Batcave, with Emily batting at your face with a makeup brush and JJ tugging at your zipper.

“Babe, you look hot.” Penelope says as Emily and JJ step away from you, admiring their work.

“All Emily’s work,” you deflected with a shy smile.

“We’ll have that fight when we’re not running late,” Emily said, pulling you out of Garcia’s office, she and JJ not far behind.

Derek let out a wolf whistle when he saw you all approaching, and you heard JJ’s windchime laugh from a few steps behind.

“Hello ladies,” he said with an exaggerated leer.

“Derek Morgan, you’re lucky that my thigh holster doesn’t go with this dress.” Emily spits out, and all of you burst out in laughter.

“Chocolate thunder, you clean up good,” Garcia says, crossing to Derek, who moved to put his arm around her shoulders as Reid emerged into the bullpen.

“Speaking of cleaning up good,” JJ says with a small smile, and you catch Reid blushing.

“Did you know that balls like this can cost American taxpayers up to a million dollars?” He asks the group, and you smile.

“Maybe don’t mention that when the first lady gives us the award, yeah Spence?” You tease, and he treats you to a little chuckle.

You hear Hotch before you turn to see him and Rossi. “Alright, let’s go,” He says, leading the group out of the BAU and towards your SUVs. You end up in the passenger seat of the car Rossi is driving.

“You doing okay, kid? You’re awful quiet this evening. Invitations to Federal Government Prom don’t come often, you know.” He smirks, and you half-ass a smile in return.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Rossi. Just tired, you know. Would have preferred to get a night’s sleep in my own bed before we did this, you know?”

He nods, but there’s no use in lying to a profiler.

The food, you have to admit, is leagues better than the instant ramen you would have cooked up if you had gone home tonight. And the conversation isn’t half bad either, you admit to yourself as you lazily flirt with Paul, a junior fellow from the Department of Health and Human Services, just barely putting in enough effort to seem interested while allowing your mind to wander.

The sensation of a warm hand in between your exposed shoulder blades distracts you from your train of thought.

“Excuse me,” Aaron’s deep baritone interrupts Paul’s nervous tenor. “I’d like to cut in for a dance, if you don’t mind.”

Paul sputters, and you laugh, because you know that Aaron was asking you, not this early-thirties politico type that he towered over, both physically and morally.

“We’ll catch up later?” you said to Paul, with absolutely no intent to catch up later, before Aaron led you out to the dance floor.

“Hotch, I’m gonna step on your feet.” You warned.

“No you won’t,” he assures you. “Follow my lead.”

You do as you’re told, and you’re surprised to realize just how easy it is to follow him, anywhere.

“Aaron Hotchner, when on Earth did you learn to ballroom dance?” You asked incredulously.

“Boarding school,” He answers with an easy smile.

“You’re joking,” you accuse.

“Ah, yes, something I’m known to do.”

“You remain a mystery, Hotchner.” You tell him.

“I don’t know. That might have been my last secret.”

You roll your eyes, content to continue dancing, and finding yourself getting distracted again.

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asks, and you mentally curse yourself for letting your guard down in front of your boss.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. But really grateful to be here, of course, and--”

“I wasn’t asking as your boss, you can stand down,” He smirks, dipping you quickly and it takes your breath away. “You’re thinking of leaving.” He says as he lifts you back up, and it’s not a question.

“How did you-- I can’t believe-- Damn profilers.” You harrumphed.

“You’ve been distant, the past couple weeks. You’re in your early twenties accepting an award at the White House, by all accounts you should be ecstatic. That’s when I knew something was wrong. And when I saw you with Peter, or whatever his name was, who you couldn’t be less interested in, that’s when I knew it was us.”

“See, and that’s exactly why I need to leave. Because I’ll never be able to do that.” You tell him, finally looking him in the eye.

“You will,” He says in a self-assured tone that does nothing to assuage your anxiety.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“I do.”

“Maybe I’m not good enough, Hotch.” You confess carelessly. He’s already figured you out. Might as well fess up to your deepest insecurities while your boss holds you and stares you down with his deep brown eyes in the middle of the East Room.

“You are,” he says in that same tone, that you’re sure is supposed to be calming but is only infuriating.

“But maybe I’m not! Maybe I’m one of those people who always wanted to do it, who always wanted to be an agent, but it’s like a pipe dream for me. I don’t contribute to the team the same way everyone else does. I don’t pick up on the things that seem so obvious to all of you, and it sucks. I can still do good work, but you know-- you change your dreams and you grow up. Maybe I’m one of those people and I’m just not supposed to be here. I just can’t stay knowing that I’m not supposed to be here-- I have to leave.” You’re not even sure if your soliloquy makes any sense, but Aaron pulls you a little closer, so he can speak the next few words lowly, directly into your ear.

“You’ve been here eight months. It takes time. You are an incredible agent, and an asset to this team. I don’t need another profiler that sees the same things we all see-- I need you, and your observations, the things we missed-- those are the things that solve cases. I can’t-- I can’t allow you to change your dream. I can’t let you leave. I need you here.”

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before he speaks again.

“The, uh-- the team needs you. We all need you, and your observations, is what I meant.” He stammers.

“Hotch?’ You ask, confused by the sudden change in tone.

“Do you want to go get some fresh air? Get away from the crowd?” He asks, pulling away to look at you, and there’s an invitation in his eyes. Maybe a more seasoned profiler would know exactly what it was, but you were excited to find out nonetheless.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

You’re certain that you’re breaking some sort of law as Hotch pulls you out of the ballroom and down a hallway, his fingers interlocked with yours. You try not to think about it too much. Your heels click against the marble floors as you follow Aaron’s brisk pace, and eventually he finds a door outside, opening it up and allowing you to pass through it first. It takes a minute to place yourself, especially under the cover of night, but after a moment you realize you’re in the rose garden.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” You say under your breath with a little laugh as you look out over the sprawling display of flowers and plants.

“It definitely beats the Quantico courtyard,” Aaron agrees.

“Never thought I’d make it there, either.” You confess, not looking at him.

“But you did. It wasn’t meant to be easy, but you made it, and you’ll grow. You just need time.” He tells you.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask, feeling your eyes well up.

“I was young once, too.” He tells you with a self-deprecating grin.

“You can’t play up the wise, ancient elder with me, Hotch. I’ve seen you chase Jack across a soccer field like you’re still in your twenties.” You laugh, but he can hear the emotions behind it.

“Hey, come on, I mean it. I’m not Rossi, but I’ve got my fair dose of wisdom to share,” he says, moving closer to you and placing a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Let’s keep dancing. If you want to talk, you can talk. But you thought you couldn’t dance, and you could dance, right? So we can keep doing that until you believe me.” He said, pulling your hand up in his and placing his other on your waist.

The two of you moved slowly, the orchestra from inside only barely audible from where you were standing. With Hotch’s bad ear, he could really only hear it when his body was angled just right in the direction of the East Room, but somehow he had perfect rhythm regardless. You move in silence for a song or two or three before Hotch speaks up again.

“I lied to you, earlier.” He confesses, still guiding you effortlessly through a simple waltz.

“How do you mean?” You ask, suddenly nervous that you were right, that you’re a complete failure of an agent, and that you need to pack your bags and head on back to Kansas.

“I lied when I said that I’d told you my last secret.”

“Oh,” you said, too caught up in your own head to try to understand what he was saying.

“And I lied when I told you that I meant the team needed you--” you felt that bone-crushing weight on your soul again-- “we do, of course, but that’s not what I meant.”

��Hotchner, what are you talking about?” You finally asked, no longer able to tolerate the emotional whiplash of his conversation.

“When I said I needed you, I meant it.”

“Oh,” you say, your face a portrait of shock and confusion, even though you understood him completely.

“That’s selfish of me as a person, and wrong of me as your superior, and maybe that means that I’m outing myself as the kind of fucked-up person that isn’t worth another second of your time, but I needed you to know.” He stops dancing now, tries to hedge a bit of space between you without letting you go entirely.

“Aaron,” you whisper, clinging to him more tightly as he pulls away, feeling his jacket wrinkle under your fingernails.

“Yes?” he whispers back.

“I’m glad you told me,” you tell him, and that’s all the permission he needs to take your face in both of your hands and kiss you, with a gentleness that makes you feel like spun gold, with the reverence of a man who knows that love is not a game, with the hunger of one who has been starved for months.

He pulls away from you, too soon, and your eyes are wet. “My resignation will be on your desk by Monday morning.”

He takes a step away. “What do you--”

“Goodnight, Aaron,” You tell him with a sad little smile, turning around towards the door you came from and leaving him in the garden.

You’re drowning your sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s when the doorbell rings the next day. You swing the door open grumpily, to reveal Aaron.

“It’s Saturday, and you can’t turn in your resignation until 9am Monday. What can I do in the next forty eight hours to convince you that you belong here?” Aaron asks, still standing in the hall of your apartment complex.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. You can’t give him what he wants, but you won’t have this argument where all the neighbors will hear, either. “It’s too late, Hotch.”

“It’s not too late,” he argues, checking his watch. “I have forty six hours and thirteen minutes.”

“I’ll still be the girl who got this job on her back forty six hours from now.” You tell him, folding your arms.

“You’ll be what?” He asks, incredulous.

“I know that you heard me loud and clear.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know that you slept with Erin Strauss. I didn’t think you were her type.” He says, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re absolutely incorrigible!” You cry out.

“Who implied that you got this job on anything other than your own merit?” Aaron asks, a glint in his eye that lets you know that they’ll be handled just as soon as he gets you to shred the letter of resignation you drafted last night.

“Didn’t I? You didn’t clear my promotion because you were attracted to me?” You asked.

“I cleared your promotion before we even met-- your interview was a bureau formality. Your reputation and the glowing recommendations from your peers in counterterrorism spoke volumes.” He assures you.

“Oh,” you let out, your anger deflating.

“If you want to leave because of my inappropriate behavior, please reconsider. I’m incredibly sorry for--” He starts, but you cut him off, placing your hands on his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Please continue to be inappropriate,” you tell him in between kisses.

He smiles as he continues to place kisses across your face, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. “Right now?” He asks, slipping a hand underneath your shirt. “You want me to be inappropriate right now?”

“If you’re really good at it, I’ll let you tear up my resignation yourself.”

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot

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trash-writings · 3 years

Text

Master At Play

Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Another commission! If you are interested in commissioning me, send me a DM!

Warnings: master/sir kink, power play, 1 face slap, 1 pussy slap, nipple stimulation, degradation (like a lot), choking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, oral (m. receiving), mindbreak (if you squint), yandere themes, he threatens your life at one point ok just let me know if theres more I should add here!

Word count: 4k

Summary: Sukuna takes an interest in the maid who works in his private quarters, perhaps it’s even developed into a need to control her beyond her job description.

He didn’t like making a habit of staring too long at his servants. As time went on, he realized his presence alone made them nervous and mess up whatever they were doing, so he stopped hovering whenever someone was in the room to clean or act out whatever task they’d been assigned. In all his years he’d yet to meet anyone who could handle the pressure for longer than a month, the sheer number of humans who had failed him was too high to remember… rather, that he cared to remember.

Until you came along, with your soft features, bright smile, and steady hands even when he critiqued everything you did. He wouldn’t give you the benefit of saying he was impressed by you, there had been very few that he’d even consider worthy of that. However, something about you piqued his interest.

While your good work and apparent lack of fear for him was of interest, nothing interested him more than the jealousy he felt whenever one of his butlers would talk to you or order you around. Each time one of them spoke to you, his hand would twitch. Something about you being present and attentive to anyone else, enraging. You were his, and his alone, and he planned to remind you of it.

His presence never bothered you, which was surprising to you and everyone around the estate. All the training you had to go through just to enter his palace was harder than what you’d think it would take to get into an ivy league school. By the time you’d made it through to fill the open position in his private quarters, nothing bothered you anymore as you’d seen enough to frighten you for several lifetimes.

It wasn’t easy, of course, choosing to maintain your positivity when surrounded by so many cold people and curses. But you managed it well, and most of all you did your job well. The stories were the only thing that still kept you up at night, what he might do if you slipped up. All the seasoned maids and butlers had joked about the men and women who had once occupied your position, and despite your best efforts, it was hard to not think about them. That’s why you did your best to maintain your well-gathered manners and poise as you worked.

Sukuna’s presence was daunting, to be sure. There wasn’t a moment when he was in the room that you felt fully at ease, but you knew you had to work. He was rarely in his quarters when you first began working for him, never catching a glance at him until several months in. But now, he’s been home a lot more for reasons unbeknownst to you. Now, he was more of an annoyance when you worked. His eyes always following you around, making snide comments as you dusted, or even breathing too loudly made you want to break your tools and scream.

“You already wiped down that shelf,” his deep voice startles you, not realizing he had entered the room.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You look to the ground as you were trained to do and move to the next shelf. Carefully moving the antiques from the shelf to the next as you dusted was the hardest part to do while he watched. If your fingers moved even the slightest, you knew you’d drop it.

Sukuna moves across the large room, sitting down on the dark brown armchair, leaning on the left arm. His cheek rests softly against the back of his fingers as he watches you continue to clean his room. The maid outfit he picked out centuries ago fits you like a glove, he notices. It’s hard not to watch you, the way you gracefully navigate between pieces of furniture and carefully ensure everything remains dust free.

“Don’t break that,” he says to provoke you. Knowing this, you extra carefully set back down the glazed vase back on the dark wood shelf.

“I won’t, Sir.” You tell him as it sets soundly on the shelf and you back away.

You’re always so polite, so pristine, and so innocent Sukuna realizes. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin, but you won’t let him. You’re not going to be like the others who’s rage, and outbursts couldn’t be contained. You want to please him most of all and being patient and perfect at your job is how you think it’ll please him most.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” You keep your head down, not daring to look up at his red eyes. You’ve only really looked at him from afar, always across the room and not getting close enough to see him. But, like everything else you know about him, you’ve heard stories.

“Come kneel,” he orders, and you set your supplies down on the floor to quickly cross the room in front of him.

Getting on your knees, you lay your hands on your lap and continue looking down. You catch a glimpse of his shoe-less feet, and notice the markings continue all the way to his toes. While of course it makes sense that they would… a soft giggle passes your lips and your body tenses with regret.

“Is something funny?” He leans forward, reaching one arm out to take your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

You oblige, letting him lift your face to where you’re staring straight at him. Trying your best, you manage to keep your face neutral. The corner of his lips upturns, frightening you. It’s not a smile, nor a smirk really, but instead an amused look that unnerves you to your core.

“N-no,” your voice trembles and his amusement grows.

He tilts his head and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t believe you,” he warns. “However, I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let it slide just this once.” The desperate look in your eyes making his cock twitch under his robes.

“I-it won’t happen a-again,” despite trying to steady yourself, you can’t.

He’s frightening this close.

His face now just inches from yours.

He’s attractive in a strange way. Something you’d never consider of someone with two sets of eyes and all the dark curse markings displayed across his skin. Now you wonder why this fear is still bubbling inside of you but the burning in your stomach and racing heart are telling another story. It’s confusing and overwhelming the way you feel looking into his eyes, trying not to pull away or run from the room.

“I know it won’t,” he states releasing your face. “However,” you can feel your legs tremble as the word passes his lips. What could he possibly have issue with? “Your loyalty to me has been in question.”

“Sir, I would-“ a harsh slap to your cheek silences you and you drop your gaze to the floor. You know you shouldn’t have spoken without his permission. You know you shouldn’t have.

“Quiet!” His voice is so loud it rattles the different antiques around the room that you just carefully cleaned. “Look up at me.” You do. His hand reaches out, fingers latching around your throat and bringing you from your kneeling position to where you’re standing on your knees now.

Your hands instinctively grab his arm, his muscles flexing underneath your palms as you desperately hang onto him, scared he’ll bring you past your knees where you’ll have no balance but his hand around your throat. His thumb and fingers tighten, your air and blood flow restricted and making you panic. Your head feels so light, you’re clawing at his arm now to let you go.

“You look deliciously desperate, little one.” He coos, a hint of laughter in his voice. “I could easily kill you right now, you know. You’re barely putting up a fight. I don’t think it would even be worth my time.”

His fingers loosen their grip, and you fall to the ground choking and holding yourself up on your hands and knees as he leans back in his seat. Your arms are trembling, along with your legs. He’s barely touched you and you feel yourself crumbling here in front of him. Peaking up from your lashes at him, you see he’s back to looking unamused and leaning on his left arm.

“Stand up and come closer,” he orders you and you reluctantly push yourself from the ground. Did this really have to be your first true interaction with him? Having never said more than yes or no sir to him, you’d only nodded or gotten out of his way. His sudden interest on you in terrifying… but if it’s so terrifying, why do you feel your panties getting sticky underneath your uniform?

As you step as close as you can to him without touching him, he sits up in his chair and pats his right thigh. “Sit,” he orders. You go to sit across his thigh, but he stops you. “Not like that, dumb little thing. Straddle it. I know you’re aching for some pleasure.”

You don’t move, scared to do what he wants. Is this a trick? Why would he want you to ride his thigh after he threatened your life? You want to, he’s right. You’re desperate for it, truly.

“What good is a servant who can’t follow orders?” He scoffs, reaching up and taking your hips between his hand and pulling you down on him. Your cunt throbs as he forces you onto his thigh. His thigh is hard between your leg, and you know he’ll feel good against your clit, but you’re still to stunned to know what he will allow you to do.

“C-can I?” You stutter out, still irritated with how pathetic you must sound to him. However, he loves it. Watching you ask for permission for each and every step, your innocence begging to be torn apart.

He chuckles, “Show me how devoted you are to me.”

Releasing the tight grip on your hips, you’re able to roll them once and a soft cry passes your lips as your panties pull at your slit as you move on his thigh. His hands trails up your body, fingers digging into your sides squeezing your body as you continue your slow motions on him. You reach out tentatively, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can steady yourself to move faster.

“Good girl,” he praises, encouraging you. The two simple words go straight to your core, fueling your desire.

He impatiently tears your dress form the bust to your core, the fabric falling off your body and pooling around you waist and his thighs. Your nipples perk up as he pulls your bra cups down, giving him full access to pinch your nipples and you cry out loudly, the pain turning to pleasure as you ride him.

“Look at how pathetic you are,” he chuckles toughly groping your breasts in his hands. “You’re gonna cum just from my leg aren’t you, little one? Like a good little whore.”

“Mhmm,” you whine unable to focus on replying as you desperately grind your cunt on his thigh. The stimulation from your panties tugging and the pressure form his though you’re so close. Another roll of your hips and you know you’re about to come undone.

“Are you going to cum already?” He chuckles lifting you off his thigh with ease; ruining your orgasm and making you whine loudly. “You’re a horny little whore, aren’t you? All you want is to get off and not do any work.”

You pout your lip out, hoping being cute will do something for him and let you continue… or do something else. Looking down at him as his eyes roam your body is torture, you have no idea what he’s thinking or what he might do.

“S-sir,” you whine, wanting him to do something other than just stare at you. He laughs, your pitifulness endearing to him; not something he’d ever voice aloud to you. “Want more,” you tell him.

Sukuna’s laugh shifts, something darker and demeaning in tone. He stands you up in front of him, your torn uniform falling to the ground around your ankles, leaving you in in just your underwear as he shifts his robe. Biting your bottom lip, you nervously wait to see what you’re going to have to take now.

Sukuna takes his cock in his hand, stroking the thick length once to relieve the tension that’s built up from teasing you for so long. The way your eyes devour him before he gives you permission to touch him thrills him. Your teeth holding your bottom lip between them makes his mind wonder, marking you as his becoming his only goal for the evening.

“Do you deserve this yet?” He asks you and you desperately nod, wanting nothing more than to sink down on his cock and let him fill you whole despite how daunting it looks now in front of you. You’re almost sure you can’t take him all. But you want to try. “Get on your knees and show me then,” he orders.

You’re quick to follow his demand. Timidly reaching up and replacing his hand on his cock. You admire the dark black lines that run up either side of him, his veins making it look uneven and rough. You shiver at the thought of him inside of you, tugging at your walls as hi thrusts in and out of you.

“Do I need to call another maid or are you going to do your job?” His irritation is seeping out of him, your body heating up and burning your insides. “I’m sure any one of those brainless girls would know what to do without hesitating.”

Opening your mouth, you decide it’s better to not make him wait any longer. The head of his cock is leaking precum and it tastes salty on your tongue as you take him until he’s hitting the back of your throat and grabbing your hair to hold you still. He groans as your tongue drags across the bottom of his cock and you gag on the head.

“Good fucking girl,” he groans pushing your head down further as his pubic hair tickles your nose and you choke on him, making the lewdest noises you’ve ever spewed.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as he praises you again. Each one leaves you wanting more and more while you suck him off. You find that as you tease his head with your tongue and massage his balls, he becomes increasingly louder and praises you more.

He pulls you back by your hair, a shining string of spit still connecting your mouth to the head of his cock. He pulls you in, your chest hitting his as he sloppily kisses you, his tongue massaging yours and invading your throat. It’s impossible to feel like he’s not consuming you whole, and even if he were, you know now you wouldn’t resist.

He pulls away from the kiss and speaks to you slowly, his voice commanding every ounce of sense you have to forget about everything else but his words. “If you like to toy with my balls so much, why don’t you suck on them like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You’re dropped back to your knees, and you spit in your hand to stroke his cock smoothly while you take his balls in your mouth. You lick between them once, teasing with just the tip of your tongue earning a deep grunt from him. It’s unexpected that he’s so patient with your teasing, but maybe this is his one sensitive spot where he’s okay letting you take your time with him.

He feels so heavy on your tongue when you suck on one side, desperate to hear him really moan. You struggle to take both in, your mouth so full you can barely move your tongue, but his tight grip on your hair lets you know he loves it. Popping them out of your mouth you give yourself a second to catch your breath and lick up the backside of his cock from the base to the tip. Leaving a small kiss on the top, your lip covering with precum.

“You taste so good, Sir.” Flattery, he has to like it. There’s no way the King of Curses wouldn’t like it, right?

His smirk confirms your theory.

“Wanna taste your cum,” you tell him looking up at him with the most innocent look you can muster. “Bet it tastes s’good.”

“I don’t think you’ve been good enough for that,” he laughs pulling you up onto his lap. “Plus, I haven’t gotten to use this pretty little pussy yet. Don’t you want me to fuck you?” His fingers creep between your thighs, middle finger dipping between your folds and teasing your throbbing clit.

“Please! Want your cock so bad!” The words come from your mouth without a thought. You feel you’re losing control of your instincts and letting yourself fall into a totally new headspace that Sukuna alone owns.

He stands up and you wrap your legs around his waist, his cock nestled against your cunt and his stomach. He carries you over to his bed, dropping you on your back and shedding his robe on the floor. He grabs your right ankle, pulling you roughly down to the end of the bed, lining your ass up with the end and folding your legs into yourself. His hands squeeze the back of your thighs, the pressure sure to leave fingerprint bruises all over.

He slaps your cunt once, and you squeal loudly while he laughs.

“Look at you! You’re so fucking wet.” He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit, while you close your eyes and dig your nails into the bedding. “I like good girls who don’t need prepped. So desperate and needy for my cock they do it themselves.”

The head of his cock slips in with ease, stretching your hole and making you cry out. He’s so thick you already feel like you’re being torn in two.

“Too much!” You cry out, feeling pathetic for the words.

“You can take it. You will take it.” He thrusts inside of you, and you scream. Your vision goes black for a moment and you try to pull away, but his hold on your thighs makes it an impossible task. “Open your eyes,” he tells you.

You open your eyes and see he’s parted your legs just enough to show you how you’re being fucked.

“Look at that, your pussy is devouring every inch of me.” He chuckles slowly dragging himself out to the tip before slamming back inside of you. “So fucking tight.”

You can’t speak, the pain fading as you adjust to his size and begin to feel it be replaced with pleasure. Each drag of his cock inside of you making you see stars and cry out for him. He loves every little whimper, gasp, and curse that falls from your lips.

Watching your eyes roll back into your head is his favorite part. You’re to fucked out already to even try and hold your composure he knows you’ve desperately clung to since starting to work for him. You clench around him so tightly he could cum now, but what fun would that be? HE releases your legs and pulls out of you.

Grabbing your hips and flipping you over he pulls your ass towards him, your legs dangling off the bed while you struggle to catch your footing. He’s inside you before you can, fucking you into the mattress and squeezing your ass so tightly you can’t move. His thrusts are rough, the head of his cock reaching new depths inside of you and beating against your cervix.

“S-sir please, it’s too much!” You beg, not sure if your body can hold up at this pace. You’re embarrassed by how good it feels to be thrown around like this, your body feeling lighter than air by the way he handles you. Drool runs down your cheek and onto the bedding, leaving a pool in its wake. He’ll surely make you change it again.

He doesn’t answer, slapping your ass in response. “You can take it,” he scoffs annoyed with your insolence.

You’re lucky, he thinks, there’s so much more he could do to you. He could be so much rougher. Breaking you down until you were nothing but a cute little toy for him to play with. It’s too soon to do this to you just yet. The process is the longest part, but the rewards he reaps are always worth it. Right now, he can see with your pliable body and beautiful cries that you’ll be the perfect toy for him to play with for the weeks to come.

“Sukuna!” You can’t help but use his name and hope he won’t hurt you. “Wanna cum!”

He can’t stop the way his body reacts to you using his name. It’s unexpected and not to his liking, but the way your cunt clenches around him he’s okay to let it slide just this once. “Cum then,” he spits gripping your hips and pulling your body into his as he fucks into you harder.

You have to let your body fall into the mattress with your face as you cum. It’s overwhelming euphoric and you let go. Sukuna continues fucking you through your orgasm, harder than before and you swear he’s tearing your insides apart.

“That’s it, let me have all of you.” With no resistance from you now, he cums grunting and holding your ass against him.

You’re so hot and full, you can feel his cum streaming down your thighs and as he pulls out you fall against the bed. Curled up, you can’t move, your muscles worn down from his demands. Sukuna looks unfazed, cleaning himself up with a towel and sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Clean yourself up,” he tells you tossing the towel on your body. “I’ll send for some clothes for you. I don’t want you leaving this room. Do you understand?” You nod, sitting up and wiping the cum from your thighs and off the bed.

“Why can’t I leave?” Your words are slow, testing to see if he’s okay with you asking.

He smiles at you. It’s not sweet or comforting. Instead, it reminds you of exactly who he is, shaking you to your core. “You’re going to be my good little girl now. Do you understand?” He reaches out, balancing your chin on his forefinger and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Another thing… address me by my name without my permission again and I will make it impossible for you to sit or stand for a week.”

“Yes, Sir.” You bite back the tremble in your voice, and he walks away towards his bathroom adjacent to his room.

He disappears behind the door, and you’re unsure of what to do. Everything was so fast and in the moment that now you’re thinking straight it’s all the more confusing. A maid enters the room, and you cover yourself as she drops the clothing for you on the table by the door as you’ve done many times for Sukuna.

She gives you a sad look before scurrying out of the room.

“----!” Sukuna’s voice booms through the rooms, making you jump as you try to get changed. You realize this is the first time you’ve heard your own name in months.

“Yes, Sir?” You call back.

“Get in here and clean yourself. I want you fresh and ready for next time.”

#commissions #comissionwork #commisionwork #sukuna smut #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna smut

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

All This Hassle, and What For?

Pairing | Loki Laufeyson x reader

Summary | getting taken hostage, along with Loki, is far more amusing than ever intended to be, despite it leaving your captors anything but impressed.

Warnings | kidnapping, mentions of depression, swearing, implied smut, innuendos

Based off this tiktok. All original rights to the plot go back to the creator.

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your aching eyes, you found yourself to be in a large room, there were plenty of feet stood at your eye level, and such a sight made you frown. You certainly didn’t remember being knocked out, but who would, the exposure to unconsciousness was most likely sudden.

But nevertheless, you raised your head, glaring up at those whom had captured you. As your eyes scoured the room, your eyes landed promptly on the god of mischief, who had his hands bound and shackled in chains, and by Odin, did he look good.

However, your attraction the man who once reigned terror down upon New York wasn’t the focus now, and so you licked your lips, and kicked the nearest guard in the leg. He stumbled, the noise loud enough to draw the attention of all others, and you were pleased to stifle a laugh. Loki frowned at your behaviour, knowing that this was not the way that you were trained to be an avenger, but it was clear that you were no longer on earth, so human pleasantries did not apply here.

“And by the gods, who in the galactic council’s name do you think you are?” The closest asked, wrapping his large hand through your hair, and tugging your face up to stare up at him, wanting you to be treated as the lesser being he thought you as.

“Actually, he’s the god.” Tilting your head, you diverted it towards Loki, who squinted feebly at your answer. “But I think you already knew that, since you have him rattled in metal. Just a word of advice, rumour has it that he likes to be restrained in such ways; really, you’re doing him a favour, and you may just earn yourself a big tip.”

You sent a wink up at the commander, watching with inward joy as he grimaced at your development within your speech. “Quite a nice sight, to see him so vulnerable and at someone’s mercy, so thank you general.”

Sending him a smile, he huffed, whilst Loki tried his darnedest to contain an amused grin. It wouldn’t be the first occasion that you had made suggestions regarding the new troop of the avengers; even when he was around causing mischief, (which he still tended to do), there were always words said that gained the god’s intrigue.

Tony at the time, and to this day, despite him being a part of the heroic team, which Thor was ‘inclined’ to drag him into, thought nothing more than disgust at your meaningful jokes. In his words, ‘you two may as well screw so we don’t have to listen to anymore of this dirty banter, you in regards to reindeer games’.

How you wished right now, preached silently even, that Tony could bare to listen again, so that he could send in the team whom could deal with these aliens that were keeping your imprisoned. But all communications were cut, and that just left you and Loki.

By no means did you doubt if Loki got the chance to escape, he would leave you. It was in his nature to do so, but if you could pose a lack of threat, they may loosen up on their efficiency in guarding you. After all, Loki was the one they wanted, not you. And then, both of you could get away from this galactic nonsense.

“Humans.” The general huffed, causing you to grimace as the stench of his breath wafted through the air, and hit your nose. “You all think that you are so special, but when it comes down to it, those who are not from your planet do not care. Loki here, this god, does not care about you little one. And he never will.”

“That’s okay with me, because I don’t care about him either. It’d called self preservation.” You informed your captor, noticing Loki staring across at you with an icy gaze. Who were you kidding? Of course you cared about the god, but right now, you would do anything to get out of this predicament.

“Aw would you look at that.” The feet moved back towards the main reward of their capture, staring down at the green eyed trickster with mocking eyes. “This woman has attitude just like yours, if either of you cared, I’d call it a match made in Asgard.” A laugh bellowed from the wide chest of the being, finding his own comedy quite humorous.

“Excuse me, I’m way out of his league!” You pretended to be offended, bringing your hands that were free of restraint to your chest. They thought not to tie you down as they did to him, after all, you were nothing but a midguardian. That was their mistake. “What’d you want with old horse shagger over there anyways? Don’t be alarmed, but he actually does some kind of good now, even if it be out of his own self interest.”

A heavy sigh fell on deaf ears, as the protector of space glanced unsurely between the pair of you. “He has the tesseract, and I wish to take it from his slippery hands, he cannot be trusted with such a powerful source of energy.” His words bellowed a laugh of absolute surprise from your mouth, earning a frown from those keeping you hear, and a cock of the head from the god of mischief.

It was clear that not only was he confused by your supple, yet somewhat pleasant burst of amusement, but he was also in the dark about what in the Hela this predominant being was speaking of. Yes, he had had the tesseract at one point , however, no longer was it in his untrustworthy grasp.

Thanos had taken ownership over it, after killing many of the people that he had saved from the events of Ragnarok. It was not just some energy source, it had been an infinity stone all along, tricking the eyes of elders and the young to believe that it was nothing more than a harbouring of power. But it had indeed been the space stone, and it was taken from him, in exchange for saving Thor’s life.

The Guardians of the Galaxy had found the pair of them upon the aftermath of the wreckage, taking them in, amongst plans of taking Thanos down. It had been a failure, up until the avengers went back in time, going to their past that would not affect their future, so that they could reverse the affects the Titan had brought upon earth and everywhere else.

During that time, Loki had nurtured his brother, watching as he fell apart with the responsibility of their people, and collapsed into a spiral of depression. You had also been there for Thor, doing your best to take the drink away from the bulky god, but to no avail did you manage to succeed. And so, during those tormenting five years, you and Loki would sit side by side, both basking silently in your failures.

“I thought you guys’d know everything, but I guess that you and your highness are stuck in one time line; all of them. But for us humans and every lesser being, there are multiple, and that Loki that stole the tesseract, yet I say again, is one much different. And we are on the search for him, to stop his disruption and crossing over of the times!” An exonerated, and audible exhale of air left you after your little speech.

Loki smirked, at the premise of you protecting him with the admission of the truth. But he couldn’t help but feel a feeling of warmth flutter within his immortal insides, it was rather a nice feeling he realised. “He is quite difficult to catch, we have been tracking him since the time heist went sideways.”

“That’s because he’s you!” You pointedly exclaimed, unable to pin some of the blame upon the god himself. Sure, in recent times he had changed, and was much different from back when he wanted all mortals to kneel before him (which you’d willingly do if it ever came to that, though you’d never tell him under which circumstances that would be), but at the end of the day, that had been him once!

The tricks and the lies still remained, but he had found a reason to thrive, and a long and enduring career that he was well at tackling. Often, he made out being an avenger, despite the government’s rouse of concern, to be a bore, and that he had far better things to do. But he stayed, with a light in his eyes, and continued following along with the heroic traditions, breaking a few rules here and there.

“Dear, why do you always have to put the blame upon me? I was not the one who decided to put that green dye within your shampoo, but I’ll have to admit, did you look so enrapturing.” He was running a ploy, dragging out the time that you spent bantering in hopes of something happening.

Unlike Heimdall, he did not have foresight, but it was a requirement whilst the pair of you were on your expediting mission, that you check in with the base, via the comms that had cracked under brutal feet. And so, he spoke, with the promise that you’d return the conversation and leave all others in the room confused with your meaningless discussion.

“I did, didn’t I?” You asked, to which he hummed in reply, lightly nodding his head, as his feline eyes ran up your body, paying ample attention to how your limbs were free, unlike his own. “But I’d say fine sir, that the blame is down to Clint, and if I’m correct, may we kick his ass as soon as we get back home?”

“Of course we can my beloved-“ you froze at his choice of words, and it appears that he did too, suddenly realising his mistake. Gulping for a second he went to speak again, but the commander felt much inclined to but in, and stop the headache that was bubbling in his large head.

“Shut up; the pair of you!” His scolding made you feel as though you were in school over again, it was impossible not to drop your head down and try to contain your laughter. Loki too found such enjoyment in this predicament, sporting a cheshire grin to emit his emotions.

“I’m sorry, can you say that again? Maybe a just a tad louder?” You pinched your thumb and forefinger together to show how much, and it was clear that you were pissing this primal being off. He began towards you, and you were prepared to fight him, you were never one to back down, which was one feature upon the various reasons that Fury had initially recruited you.

Awaiting the first strike, you stood despite the others around you, your eyes wide open as you bravely stared up at your opponent. But before the fight could begin, a distant crash assumed preference in your ears, causing you to turn your head in the direction it had came from. And then, all of a sudden, a ship crashed through the dock, guns blazing from its side.

“What are you waiting for?” The distinct voice of Rocket asked, and obediently you ran through the terror, finding Loki already upon the ship, but then, he appeared behind you also. “Quill, get ready to go!”

Taking glances, you stared between the two practically identical copies, a light frown on your face. Both were restrained, yet the one that was seated beside Groot, whom was playing a game on some nineties device, was glaring up at the pair of you.

“An avenger, really?” The seated one laughed, mocking his once future self, as you felt the ship steer clear away from the scene. Your Loki quirked his brow, smirking at his self that had avoided the wars that he had chosen to fight upon earth.

“Yes, an avenger.” He responded, causing his other to languidly scoff. An ‘I am groot’ came from the tree, and it was uncertain in your spoken languages of what he had said, but either way, you were more intrigued by the conversation that was happening between the Loki’s. “And I’ll have you know, that she is infinitely more brave than you, you cower-some fool.”

“Oh, so we’re going there?” You asked, causing the pair to snap out of their mutual rivalry, and stare haphazardly at you. “No, don’t mind me, feel free to continue.”

“We’re not going to be unable to unbind your until we reach earth.” Gamora cut in, speaking to the Loki that you knew to be the original.

“That’s fine.” He nodded humbly, before casting his attention back at his alternate reflection. “And this woman, is not only an avenger. She was there for your brother when you were not.”

“Aw.” The other Loki smirked, almost cruelly. “So she’s your beloved?” He remarked rudely, and it seemed to break something within Loki, him wishing not to listen to the other version of himself. He decided he did not like him, and understand how you must have felt upon your initial meeting.

“Yes.” You went to speak, but instead, Loki stood before you, powerlessly pulling your face to his own, and colliding his lips upon yours. On impulse, you ravenously replied with much affection, clasping his jaw and allowing him entrance into your mouth. It earned a disgusted groan out of the Loki that had caused all this hassle.

“I hate to interrupt...” Rocket returned, after putting his gun down and having gone to the front of the ship with Quill, so that he could contact Stark. “But these may get those off.” He held a pair of golden pliers, that were far larger than his body. At the sight , you pulled away from Loki’s face for a moment, raising a brow.

“It’s fine, I think I want to keep them on.” You smirked, earning another sound of disapproval from Loki’s identical rival, pulling him back to your face. Wildly, he hummed into the cavern of your mouth, as the pair of you stumbled around on the spaceship.

“Bedrooms are down the hall to the right.” Nebula informed you, her voice monotone, and in turn, you dragged the god towards said direction, finally releasing all the tension that had been pent up through the years.

Tags

@nickkie1129

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 3 years

Note

nomu nsfw romance for valentines day plss i’m begging you -🦋

It’s a little after Valentines Day but here

“Nomu?” ____ felt her sweetheart’s large head nudge her back, his favorite form of greeting when he wanted some physical affection. He’d already been lovey-dovey when he was a human, but his affection nowadays was definitely more and more beastlike.

When ____ turned around to face him, her eyes widened in surprise as she saw him holding something pink and carefully wrapped--well, carefully wrapped by Nomu standards, given his large fingers and tendency to drool--in his palm. There were a few torn pieces of wrapping paper, but it was clear that he’d gone to great lengths to try and make it presentable. “What’s this?” ____ smiled up at him, and he mirrored her with his own large-and-intimidating mouth filled with fangs. “Did you get me a present?”

“Val...” His exposed brain twitched as he tried to pronounce the word, trying to remember how it sounded when he was human. “Val...tine...Day.” He held his present up to her, revealing it to be a heart-shaped box of sweets. How he managed to procure something like this when he was being kept in the League’s undergound facility was a mystery. Did he sneak out to steal it? Did he manage to convince on of his handlers to get it for him?

____ decided she’d ask him later, and instead happily took the container into her hands. “Awww, Nomu,” she cooed. “Thank you! I can’t believe you remembered this was even a holiday, much less to get me a present.” She gently grasped one of his fingers and she noticed his brain twitch again as he beamed at her.

“...P-Presents,” he corrected, rubbing her delicate palm with his fingertip. “Presents. More...for you.”

____ raised an eyebrow. “You got me more than one? Honey, you didn’t have to do all that. Just one is enough for--”

She let out a small surprised gasp as Nomu grabbed her by the waist and held her face up to his. His long warm tongue snaked out and licked the side of her cheek, and she shivered at the wet sensation. “Got...new...Quirk,” he growled, his lips curling into a smile again when he saw ____ bite her lip and squeeze her thighs together. “Master gave me...for mate.” A hazy pink glow started to emanate from her body as he held and licked her face and neck, making her pant from the sudden rush of warmth coming from her. “For you...”

____ leaned against his tongue and let out a breathy laugh as the heat between her legs pooled inside of her and left her lightheaded. “G-guess the tentacle Quirk you had just wasn’t enough, huh,” she murmured. As a human, he’d had a quirk that allowed him to sprout tentacles of all sorts of textures from his body: spiked, sandpaper-y and rough, smooth and rubbery, etc. As a Nomu experimented on by Ujiko, he’d been given even more power to work with and, as it would seem, another ability that seemed to elicit a very specific reaction from whoever he touched with it. ____ wasn’t sure how combat-effective an aphrodisiac Quirk would be, but she certainly wasn’t complaining as her monstrous beloved gently wrapped his tongue around the nape of her neck.

She felt a few tentacles poking and prodding at her arms and legs, and she relaxed as they positioned her while tearing her shirt and pants aside. Her legs were spread apart and the sudden cool air to her dripping wet undergarments made her shiver. Nomu immediately decided to warm her up by sending some tentacles to her breasts and pelvis, ripping her undergarments off before latching onto her nipples and clitoris. The sudden sensation made her cry out, and she immediately found herself being manhandled by the slithering appendages until her slit was rubbing against her beloved Nomu’s cock; it was already fully erect and slick with precum, and despite its monstrous size the only thing she could feel was anticipation and hunger. It didn’t matter if it wouldn’t fit, she needed it inside of her.

A thin tentacle continue to suckle on her throbbing clit as he lined himself up with her entrance. A pair of slick tentacles, a bit wider and thicker than the others, gently prodded her folds and entered her. She moaned and bucked her hips, relishing in the way they wriggled inside of her gummy walls and filled her up completely. They immediately reached that velvety spot inside of her that left her crying and drooling with pleasure almost immediately. Her Nomu was already well acquainted with her most sensitive parts during sex, but this new aphrodisiac Quirk was amplifying all of her senses and leaving her cumming within less than a minute of him first entering her.

Nomu let out a small rumbling growl, the closest thing he had to a chuckle as he heard her cry out and felt her sweet cunny tighten and clamp down on his tentacles. Her slick gushed out of her and coated both his “helper” tentacles and his throbbing cock as he rubbed himself in between her thighs. “...P-Pretty...” He tilted her head up and prodded at her lips with his tongue, and she eagerly let him explore her mouth while she let out a muffled moan. His two “helper” tentacles wrapped around her thighs to spread her legs further apart, while two more prodded at her backside. Normally she might have felt a bit embarrassed at just how easily they penetrated her tight ring of muscle, but at this point she was too lost in bliss to care about anything but how good her Nomu was making her feel. She needed his tongue, his cock, all of his tentacles inside her, to fill her up and make her melt even more.

He gladly fulfilled her wish and entered her with one sharp thrust of his hips, and she screamed at the white-hot pleasure of his massive member stretching her to her limit. The pulsing tip of his cock ravaged her cervix with every thrust, and his tongue lolled out of her mouth to lick up the drool trickling down her chin and the happy tears rolling down her cheeks. As he continued to fuck her, coating her walls and most of her breasts with his cum and his tentacles’ slick, he happily nuzzled her neck while her eyes rolled back and an open-mouthed smile was on her face. He had vague fuzzy memories of enjoying Valentine’s Day with her when he was a human, but he was sure that nothing they did then felt as good as this.

“Hap...Happy...Val...tin’es...”

#.bnha #.nomu #monsterfucking #tw: tentacles #tw: breeding #yandere bnha #yandere nomu #some juice for my fellow monsterfuckers #.myshit #Anonymous #🦋 anon

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

Text

Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List / Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure.

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub.

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family.

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago.

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive.

And Salvation was where he needed to be.

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here.

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him.

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands.

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim.

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's.

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door.

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures.

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf.

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses.

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late.

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it.

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings.

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring.

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world.

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond.

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked.

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point.

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind.

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses.

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome.

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear.

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice.

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes.

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance.

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat.

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him.

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

#cat got your tongue #hiddleston au #Thomas Loki Hiddleston #were creatures

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beelspillowpet · 3 years

Text

Greedy & Full - Mammon x Fem!MC

I’m back with another NSFW fic~ This time of the Great Mammon ♡

Reader/MC is female!

Content warning!! Something of a master kink, a bit of spanking, lil bit of dirty talk, tad bit overstim

It was fairly easy talking Mammon into bed. All you had to do was wear his clothing. His jacket, which was a size or two bigger than your own. Something about the fact that his pants wouldn’t fit on you turned him on. Your full, wide hips are unable to fit into his pants. Your breasts may not have been massive, but they did ride up his shirt on you quite a bit. You got him hot and bothered and he couldn’t articulate why.

“Get out of my damn fit, human!” He scowled, chasing you up the steps. You duck from his grasp, laughing and taunting him the whole time. You were about to make fun of his lack of effort, he should have caught you by now.

However, he grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled you backwards. “Alright you, outta my clothes now!” He huffed.

“Mammychan…” you purred deviously. “You want me out of all these clothes for you, huh?”

What came from Mammon was nothing short of a malfunction. He sputtered and turned his nose upward. “Hmph! More like you should be eager to get out of yours! I bet you’re dyin’ for the great Mammon to admire your figure.” His hands slipped down to your waist, his fingers curling in the belt loops of the too- tight pants. “Fuck. You’re stretching them out, aren’t you?”

You roll your hips into his touch, grinning. “Mm, I might have torn them up already? Oops~... I guess you might have to punish me.”

“Fuck… you want me to torture ya’ babe? Make you ride my cock until you’re in tears? Spank that fat ass until it’s red and stinging?” One hand comes up, and he’s delicately brushing hair out of your face. “Drive me crazy. Wanna fuck you so deep. Look at ya’ wearing my clothes and shit… looks so cute on ya’ babe.” He finished his compliment with a harsh slap on your ass. The force of it alone made you arch forward, grinding against the bulge in his underwear.

His breath hitched at the friction, and he was tempted to spank you again, but he didn’t want an accident in his own underwear. You would never let him live it down if that was all it took. So he pushed you away a bit, then led you down the steps. He held your hand firmly, and pulled you close once you reached his bed. He sat down slowly, and smirked at you.

“Get out of those clothes. We can assess the damage and you can pay up right now if you… apologize properly.” He winked, his tongue snaking out and dancing across his upper lip seductively.

As if possessed, you slowly began to remove the jacket, tossing it on to the bed. When you reached for the shirt, he stopped you. “Slowly, sweetheart. I wanna take it in. Pretend you're my personal stripper, giving me a show.”

You blush, not knowing how to take it slowly like that. You weren’t shy by all means, but pretending to be a stripper was still out of your league. You wanted him, and you wanted him to want you too. So you tried your best, making a show of your body by putting emphasis in pulling up the shirt. Once you managed to get out of it, you tossed it away onto the floor with finesse. He whistled under his breath to show approval.

Next came the pants, which were much less a show of your sexy side, and more like you wiggling out of them. Like a dancing worm at the end of a string. You at least turned around so he could watch your ass and thighs jiggle, and it saved you from having to look him in the eyes during this embarrassment. Once you managed to kick off the pants, next came for the bra. You turned around, and reached behind you. Unhooking the bra, you lifted it slowly, until it was just barely covering your areola before stopping. Mammon looked like he was going to fly off the bed right then and there.

“Fuck, don’t make me wait.” He groaned, palming himself through his shorts.

“Oh? I thought you wanted me to make a show of it?” You shoot back immediately. Mammon groaned again, adjusting on the bed to get comfortable. You spread your legs a bit and roll your hips seductively, pulling the bra up with the rest of your breasts, until the flop down with a delicious slap! Against your chest. His breath stutters and he stares. You were unimaginably beautiful, and you were going to be chanting his name like it was a prayer before long.

Once the bra was off and again tossed to the side, you spun back around and leaned against his dresser. You shook your ass, snaking a hand down the front and between your legs. “Mammon,” you pant hotly. “You want it? What’s right here?” You pat your panty-covered pussy, twitching at the pressure. “You want to fuck my pussy? Pump me full of cum?”

“Fuck,” Mammon gasped. “Want to fuck you deep. Little brat. I told you what I want already. You’re almost there…”

“Want the Great Mammon’s cock… stuff me so well. Take them off.” You roll your hips again. “Take them off and fuck me. I’ll be a good girl after I’ve had my fill. I know you want to watch me tremble. As the cum drips down my legs.”

There was something like a low, animalistic growl that came from behind you. And suddenly his body was pressed against yours. “I was gonna spank you for ruining my pants,” he growls. “But now I just want to fuck that tight pussy until you can’t speak. Until you can’t think.” He grinds against you, holding your hips firmly against his.

“Feel that?” He pants. His cock is twitching through his underwear and you moan. It’s hard and warm, even through the cloth keeping it restrained. “That’s a real man. You’re gonna have a real man fucking your brains out. Fuck, are you ready?”

You hum, content with him having his way. You were done teasing him, now you just wanted to listen to him come undone for you. To feel him lose control on your body, to bite, scratch, kiss, and caress you to his greedy hearts content.

The slap that came to your ass startled you. Then feeling the nails dig into your underwear and hearing it be torn off like it was cheap cloth surprised you. He laughed darkly.

“What’s wrong babe? You wear my clothes, I tear yours. You be a fucking brat,” another harsh slap to your ass, “I put you in your place. You thought you had me, didn’t you? Thought you had me whipped but no.” He snarls, his hand coming around to grab you by your face. “You’re mine for the rest of the night. You understand me?”

“Y-yes, Mammy. A-ah-!”

Another harsh slap. This time you jumped a little, the sting feeling too good. “What are you supposed to call me?” He warns.

“M-master. Master Mammon…” you whine.

“Good girl.” He let’s go of your face, and you lower your head on to the dresser. The hand returns to your body, teasing shapes across your pussy. “Fucking wet and all I did was spank you. You like being punished, huh? You love when I give you attention.”

You swallow thickly and turn your head. He’s kicking his underwear off quickly and lining up behind you, his finger swiping between your folds. He slicks himself up the best he can before taking the head of his cock and replacing his fingers. He groans, your wet and scalding hot pussy is inviting him sweetly, but before he thrusts in he has to set down a ground rule. Something to make things interesting.

“If you make so much as a peep,” he hisses into your ear, “I’ll take that as an invitation to go another round. You hear me?”

You lower your hand and huff. “Y-yes, Master.”

With that, he shoves in. All the way in. The usual tightness is replaced with a suffocating constriction, and he chokes on the pleasure. He hunches over you, nails digging into the soft of your hips. He laughs when you cry out, unable to contain yourself from being empty to suddenly very full.

“That’s one,” he counts. “You really are poorly trained. Don’t worry. I’ll train that pathetic human brain, this tight little pussy to behave.” One finger reaches around to cup one of your breasts in his hand and he squeezes, eliciting a soft keen from your throat. “Two!” He laughs again.

You nearly groan from anticipation of more rounds. The fool is so busy counting he hasn’t started mo- ah.

He’s pounding into you now. Knocking the dresser against the wall with each harsh thrust. He has no mercy in his movements, his hips ramming into yours with practiced expertise. He’s taken you in various ways before, in various places. He had to admit this was one of his favorites.

You reached down and rolled your fingers around your clit, struggling with all your might to not make a sound as per his orders. It was getting more and more difficult by the second, hearing how hard he was fucking into you. The sounds of skin slapping harshly against stinging skin, the dresser knocking against the wall, and the carnal desire that was Mammon at the very moment, turning your insides into a humming, buzzing, pulsing mess.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck yeah! You like that? Me fucking the shit out of your little pussy? Ooh, fuck!” You were hoping, praying really, that in the midst of all his talking he would either forget his count, or wouldn’t hear you at all. Either way, you took the chance and hissed. It wasn’t much, but you were grateful you didn’t hear him acknowledge it.

He slows for a moment, rolling his hips into yours. The hand on your breast now rests on the flat on your back and he’s smoothing kisses down your back. Sometimes he gets like this, and you weren’t entirely sure why. He’s being rough with your body one second, and the next he’s kissing you, shifting the mood for just a moment. To appreciate you, your brain supplies. You clench up at that realization, and just like that, Master Mammon is back again.

He slams back into you, and you’re surprised at how you didn’t manage to make a noise that time. You’re dangerously close, and he can tell.

“Who owns this pussy?” He asks, fucking into you as if you’re going to be leaving the Devildom tomorrow. You don’t dare answer him. “Who owns this fucking pussy?!” He shouts at you. “Answer me!”

“You!!” You cry out, and suddenly your voice is gone. He’s fucking you through your first orgasm, and seconds later you’re panting, reaching back and squeezing his arm. Pleading for him to stop, but without telling him to, he simply won’t listen. You flop on to the dresser seconds later, silent again as he laughs.

“Four!” He counts. “You thought I didn’t hear you earlier, did you?”

You almost groan. He can be such an insufferable dickhead sometimes. You still loved him, regardless.

His pace becomes uneven, and you can feel him coming close as well. You simply hold on and pray that he’s so tired after that, he pulls out and goes straight to sleep like he sometimes does. But he was still on his first round, and he was the Avatar of Greed.

Once he’s cum inside you for the first time, he pulls out afterwards, admiring the view of your quivering thighs. He waits a moment before you begin to push the cum out of you, oozing down your legs and making a mess on the floor.

“Fuck, c’mere.” He commands. You stand up slowly and waddle towards him. He puts his arms around you, patting the top of your head, before promptly tossing you onto his bed. You barely get a word in before he’s already on top of you again, thrusting away with reckless abandon.

“Master!” You sob. You feel like kicking yourself. You can’t seem to quiet down, no matter what. Everything just felt too good, the force behind Mammon’s thrusts shoved you violently against the bed, rubbing your clit against the soft sheets. You felt a second orgasm coming quickly, and Mammon pulled your head up by your hair.

“Yeah, cum on this cock. Cum on this fucking cock, babe! You fucking love it don’t you? Cum on this fucking cock!”

The overload of sensory was too much, and for a second time that night, you felt a powerful orgasm rip through you. Your eyes nearly rolled back and you gave a low, throaty groan. “So fucking good, Master! So fucking good! Aaah- Mammon! P-please…!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and immediately you fall silent again. You may have made your pact with him, but nothing has ever changed, it seems. “When I say shut the hell up and take it, that’s what I mean.”

You bury your face into the mattress when he lets go of your hair. Your broken sobs fill his ears and he drinks it up like nectar. A stupid demon is a useful thing to have, but a powerful one, able to serve you your punishment relentlessly was far more enticing that you anticipated.

#om!#obey me #om! mammon #obey me mammon #obey me smut #obey me mc #female mc

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Theory Of Everything

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: So y'all remember how I said that one story sparked the beginning of the Outlaws x Reader? Yeah, I lied and wrote the actual beginning. Enjoy! -Thorne

It was a subtle thing, the slightest shift in her demeanor, and he would have missed it if he hadn’t the years of thorough training in order to recognize such shifts. Her default expression was typically a frown and narrowed eyes, and hardly ever did she crack a smile, even at the most downright hysterical jokes and pranks his family would pull on one another. Which was odd for a Tamaranean considering the fact that most of the ones he’d met were usually overjoyed, especially her sister.

Something had also flashed across her face in that moment he mentioned it and she offhandedly muttered about being conditioned to not show emotion, especially that of joy or kindness during her captive years—it was easily taken advantage of by those that wished to do their worst harms to people. Then, she waved it off, and talked about something she’d read on the internet, Resting-Bitch-Face, she’d called it, then actually laughed, and said it was her normal face, there was no particular negative emotion that caused it, it just was—but if it deterred people from being friendly with her, all the better.

And he’d come to realize that her frown and narrowed gaze didn’t ooze disinterest or irritation like he’d once believed. No, now that he’d noticed the shift in her eyes when she was around him and those she cared for, the softness that entered them, and the split second that her brows unfurrowed, features relaxing ever so slightly before they hardened again, covering up any semblance of relative peace. That was the moment he realized he was in love with her, and hopelessly at that too.

But she wasn’t an easy woman to understand, not by a long-shot, or to be around, and she’d even agree with both of those. Most people, like his older brother and his friends, avoided her like the plague and didn’t interact unless it was necessary, despite the fact that she’d once been a member of the Titans with Kory. Hell, most of the Justice League didn’t want to call in reinforcements if it meant she was coming too, she was that destructive when she fought—but her volatile nature held a lifetime of wrath and a raging need to burn away all remnants of abuse—either in herself or other innocents. And she only got it out when she expended her solar energy on those she deemed her enemies.

She was impertinent with people that wasted her time, and she especially hated when people made noise, hell, even when they breathed loudly it drove her up the wall. Which almost made her kill Roy the first time she’d met him because he wouldn’t stop whistling. She was also typically the reason that Jason and Roy couldn’t bring her along to bars anymore because she was more than happy to break someone’s leg over touching her or muttering explicit comments in her ear.

But what most people didn’t take the time to see was that she was caring too. She didn’t show it because she viewed it as a weakness to be taken from her by an enemy, but it slipped through sometimes. One of the easiest memories to call on of it, was the time they’d saved a group of kids from human traffickers and as they waited for the city police to show up, she made even the youngest child learn how to send a strike that would disorient even someone who was larger than they were. That spot just below your chest is called the solar plexus. Hit it as hard as you can, and your opponent will be winded. Curl your fingers in and open your hand, like so. Strike into their middle with the heel of your palm as hard as you can.

Jason wondered if it was the first time she’d smiled since she came to earth, because when she saw the kids slip into a state of absolute fun as they tried to whack each other, a broad grin stretched across her face. But it gave him a glimpse he hadn’t seen of her—that she was still a living being, capable of strong emotion, and if that smile on her face was any indicator, she was feeling pride and understanding towards the children. He loved her smile, wishing that it would’ve stayed a moment longer.

Unfortunately, being smitten didn’t seem to just apply to Jason because if someone as hard-assed and anal-retentive about feelings as he was, was feeling such a way, he knew a loose, emotionally tethered man like Roy was too, especially when the archer gazed at her with those big evergreen eyes like he was staring at the whole universe compacted into one woman. Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t know how to feel about either of them—he wouldn’t deny there was something more than just friendship between he and Roy, and it wasn’t that strong as steel, forged level of trust you get between watching each other’s back when you’re in the thick of danger—it was deeper than that, but they’d yet to bring it up—that or it just hadn’t come up to where they needed to talk about it. And now that there was another person he wanted…Jason wanted to acknowledge it, but he was so afraid of fucking up probably the greatest thing that happened to him since he came back, and that kept him paralyzed from acting on his feelings. And he was content to keep his mouth shut if it meant avoiding that, even if he had to watch the two people he loved the most get closer.

***

She was typically the first one to wake in the morning. Training with the Warlords of Okaara meant rising before the sun, and while she’d learned to indulge in waiting for the sun to appear in the sky before waking here on earth, old habits died hard, and more often than not, she found herself lying in bed in the early hours of the morn, simply staring at the ceiling until she heard Jason or Roy shuffling around in the kitchen. That being said, it was usually Jason who was up and not Roy, the latter being very lazy and preferring to sleep until practically noon.

Today however, she wasn’t the first to arise, coming to stare at Jason as she shuffled into the kitchen, watching as he tiptoed around the area, either consciously being quiet, or unconsciously falling back on sneaking training. His back was to her, and even if she wasn’t one privy to childish whims, she couldn’t help but creep up on him and wait in his peripheral until he finally noticed her. And when he did, it was downright hilarious.

He jerked with a sharp ‘shit’ and immediately threw out his right elbow to jab at whatever had snuck up on him and she caught it with ease, allowing a smirk to cross her lips before it fell and she murmured, “Peace, Jason. It would be unbecoming to attack a teammate.” She pressed her thumb into the flesh underside his arm and his arm tingled with heat. “Better yet a friend.”

Jason scowled and pulled his arm out her grip. “It’s unbecoming to sneak up on teammates too, (Y/N).”

She merely hummed and flowed around him to the refrigerator. The door creaked on its hinges and he momentarily reminded himself to oil it later, watching as she pulled out the water pitcher.

“You are up rather early,” (Y/N) noted. “I have noticed that you sleep an hour or so later than I.” Her glowing eyes pierced him with a clarity that he wasn’t sure he liked. “Is there something on your mind, Jason?”

He shrugged and turned away, busying himself with pulling out a skillet and a spatula. “Just woke up, is all.” Jason didn’t have to be facing her to know that those eyes were boring into his back—he could feel them.

“Ah, so your body has received the needed recovery.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Something like that.” He felt her shift behind him, then the egg carton appeared beside the spatula on the counter, and he glanced over at her, only to see a curious look in her eye.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes glow in the dark?”

Jason blinked—not that he remembered. He unconsciously reached up to touch just below his eye and he murmured, “No…they do?”

(Y/N) lifted a hand and he couldn’t fight the way his heart began to pound in his chest at how soft her fingertips were when they finally touched his skin. She drew her fingers up his cheek and to his eyebrow, tracing it delicately, as if he were made of porcelain and the faintest touch would shatter him into a million shards—not like he wasn’t feeling like that already.

“It is strange, Jason. They are teal in the light, but when there is darkness…they glow a vivid green.”

A memory flashed across his mind, waking up in the neon ooze of the Lazarus Pit and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes, trying to will it away. She placed her palm against his cheek and Jason sighed as the warmth bled into his skin, reminding him of those moments of falling onto a warm pillow.

“What is on your mind, Jason?” she asked, and this time she wasn’t probing to see if he’d tell her—(Y/N) wanted an answer, and a real one at that. He let out a shaky breath as he mulled over the words that played on his tongue. “I can see you are thinking about it. Tell me what is weighing on you and I will do what I can to appease it.”

“I don’t know if it’s that simple, (Y/N),” he replied and he opened his eyes to stare at her. Her expression was unreadable and the fact that he couldn’t decipher her thoughts worried him.

“Simplicity. Complexity. These are only matters of time and understanding, Jason,” she explained and thumbed his cheekbone. “You know that I can do so. Let me help you.”

It was now or never and either he told her here or he told her later when the timing was worse, and he made an even bigger mess. At least here, she could let him down easy and swear to never say a word to Roy about it.

Jason took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst as he confessed quietly, “I…love you, (Y/N).”

The most extraordinary thing occurred in front of Jason—her jaw went slack, and her eyes went wide like she’d witnessed the most impossible thing. And that had to be the second to worst reaction he could hope for because he’d honestly rather have her flat-out rejection than stunned silence, just staring at each other. And stare they did…for a solid minute before she appeared to find her voice.

“I…was not aware you had affectations for me.” (Y/N) blinked, adding, “Is this a recent discovery?”

He shrugged. “I tried to ignore it…I didn’t want to mess up the dynamic we’ve got going but…”

Jason trailed off and she tipped her head to the side, repeating, “But?”

Meeting her gaze, he said, “But I couldn’t stop feeling for you.” Suddenly he felt like a caged animal, too close, too confined, too transparent in her glowing stare and he pulled from her touch, spinning around to place his hands on the counter so he could gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know what’s between you and Roy, but I know it’s more than sex and I’m not going to come between it.”

“Even if you want to?” she questioned, and he gripped the counter until his knuckles turned a sickly, pale shade. “Don’t you want to be the one at my side?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. I want you both to be happy.”

“At your own expense.”

Jason huffed a mirthless laugh. “I’m used to my expense being unseen and uncared for.” He lowered his head as his heart began to collapse on itself. “I love you, (Y/N) and…and I love Roy too.” Even with all he’d been through, Jason wondered if this was what it was like to have a broken heart. “But I won’t stand in the way.”

She was silent for a long time and Jason fought viciously to keep the tears at bay. He’d just revealed two of the biggest secrets he’d ever had in his entire life—discounting the whole vigilante thing—and he wasn’t sure where that was going to leave him in the morning.

A warm hand touched his knuckles and his head shot up, staring wide and teary eyed at (Y/N) who wore a heart-tugging smile. Finally, she spoke, soft and kind.

“Come with me,” she said, and Jason felt confusion course through him as his brows knitted together.

“What?”

(Y/N) pulled his grip away from the counter as if it were nothing and she tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she repeated, this time a bit firmer and he had no control over his feet as he silently obeyed, letting her lead him down the long hallway until they stood at her door.

She opened it and pulled him inside her room, closing the door with her free hand. Jason had turned on the lights leading to the kitchen, so he had to blink a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in her room, but when they did, her room was the last place he wanted to be—mostly because Roy was curled up like a cat in her bed.

He tried to pull away, whispering, “(Y/N), please don’t—”

She shot him a look with those gleaming eyes and his mouth snapped shut, though his apprehension bubbled in his chest the closer she led him to her bed. They reached the edge and she pulled him towards her. He stepped forward, allowing her to maneuver him until his knees touched the edge and she placed her hands on his chest, shoving with enough force that if he wanted to stop himself, he had to try hard. Jason didn’t though and he fell back onto the mattress, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake Roy; he didn’t, and he looked back at her.

“(Y/N)?”

She pulled the shirt from her body, leaving her in her undergarments and she shoved at his shoulder.

“Lie down,” she commanded calmly, and despite everything in his bones screaming at him to get up and flee, he obeyed, albeit when his back hit the bed, he went still as a wooden beam.

“X’Hal, Jason. Relax.” She slipped into the bed beside him and pulled the covers up over the two of them as she pressed herself into Jason’s side, one leg sliding between his.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening at the moment, but when she reached across him and shoved Roy in the face until he woke up, something started to fall into place.

“Roy,” (Y/N) said and shoved him again, smirking slightly when the archer let out a grunt and cracked an eye open.

“What?” he muttered rather annoyed, glaring into her eyes.

She nodded at the man between them. “Jason is here.”

Roy blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?” he questioned, evidently not understanding it the first time.

(Y/N) grabbed Roy’s arm and hauled him until he collided with Jason and he wasn’t sure if it was himself or Roy who was more flustered at meeting each other’s gaze as she simply repeated, “Jason is here.”

Roy took a moment to fully understand what she was saying. “Jaybird?”

Jason pulled the most awkward smile he’d ever produced. “Roy.”

The archer looked between him and her then asked, “I thought we were going to talk to him together?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “He told me he loved us.”

Both men yelped at the same time, vastly different reactions words, but the feeling of shock was still the same. She was obviously unamused at the long, drawn-out moment and Jason remembered she hated wasting time when she gave him another look. She nodded at Roy and they stared each other down before he sighed and nodded, turning his face to Roy.

“She’s…right, Roy.” He let his fingers brush against the smooth skin of Roy’s wrist as he whispered, “I love you. I love both of you.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction was going to come out of Roy, but when the man sat up in the bed with a face-splitting grin, it was safe to say he was relieved.

Roy took Jason’s face in his hands. “You do?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

The archer glanced at (Y/N) then back to him. “We were going to ask you to be with us later today, but we weren’t sure if you would respond positively or not.”

Jason blinked then turned his attention to (Y/N). “Like…for sex?”

She directed her gaze to the ceiling, and she let out the longest and most tired sigh he’d ever heard her make.

“If we wanted you to have sex with us, we would have asked a long time ago.” (Y/N) sat up slightly and lay against his chest. “No, we want you to be with us, Jason. Romantically.”

His eyes widened. “You want me to be with you two? Like a poly relationship?” Both of them nodded and he turned his head up to the ceiling, staring, unblinkingly.

“Do you think we killed his brain, (Y/N)?” Roy chuckled as he nudged her in the side and she snorted, gently rising until she was in Jason’s line of sight.

“Roy and I have not been seeing each other for a long time Jason, but even if we have not, we have noticed that something is missing, and that something is you.” (Y/N) caressed his cheek with the back of her hand and murmured, “We both share your affections. Greatly and strongly do we share them.”

She smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “We love you, Jason.”

He took a second to gaze between her and Roy, his heart stuck in his throat and when he received the heartwarming smile from Roy, he looked back at her.

“You both really want me to be with you?” he sounded so scared, so ready to have the rug pulled out from underneath him with a horrible, tasteless joke, but (Y/N) merely nodded.

“We do, Jason.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “But if you wish to leave, you may. We will not be upset at your hesitancy or refusal.”

Roy placed a hand on Jason’s clothed chest and added, “We want you, Jason, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, we understand.” He smiled and reassured, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, Jaybird.”

They waited. Patiently. And it took Jason a few moments to remember how to breathe correctly again, but when he did, he nodded silently.

“I want to be here…with both of you,” he whispered and before he could even do a thing, the two of them had him caged between them, their heads resting on his shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

But it wasn’t confining, it was comfortable, and it was loving. So loving that Jason’s eyes filled with tears and he shut them tight to avoid crying, but when his body began to shake, (Y/N) and Roy didn’t think twice before shifting and pressing their faces into his neck, showering him with praise and love-filled words.

And Jason fell asleep in the arms of the two people who he loved the most—and loved him as well.

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