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gumnut-logic · 3 days

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Cethair (Bit 2)

Óen | Cethair - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Glossary (contains backstory spoilers)

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight, @idontknowreallywhy, @womble1 and @sofasurf for all their amazing support of my writing.

Here we continue with the fic about Gordon, but this bit focusses on Johnny and a little backstory.

Sorry for the delay in writing. I will get there eventually.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

John was beside himself. Cóic’s thoughts were a turmoil and her heart anguished.

“It was not your fault, my love.” He reached up, ever so glad of his lanky height to reach her eyebrow feathers and rub her gently. “You know Gordon-“

She snorted, warm breath catching his long hair and tossing it about.

“Yes, he has a history of rapscallion-hood, but you know his heart. He would not have acted any other way, even should he have known this outcome. He did this for us.” He let his forehead rest against her white and gold cheek feathers, soft in their strength. “As did our father.”

That was a raw wound in his heart. Losing their father and king, his strength…all because…

It was Cóic‘s turn to interrupt his train of thought, sour that it was. He reached his fingers to his left temple, closing his eyes as her mind enveloped his.

It truly was magic. To be held like a child in the arms of a giant. Cóic had inherited the memories of the Ages, those who had come before, and the wisdom that entailed. But she was still young, unable to access it all until she was fully grown. Kyrano had spoken of it as a burden and part of John feared his beloved dragon would lose some of herself the day she came into her knowledge.

And feared he wouldn’t be good enough.

His father had spoken to him from a very young age about the importance of the gift he had been given, the honour it was to help guide a Matriarch into adulthood.

His mother’s family had been stewards of the great dragons across the Western Ocean and when the Matriarch of the tribe chose him to be the companion of her unborn child, the O’Treasaigh family had been ever so honoured.

His mother had held him in her lap telling him stories of the old ones and legends of their tribe leading back into the darkness of the past. How the tribe had grown strong and safe with the dragons, the great Thunderbirds. And how, in each generation one was chosen for the next Matriarch, the next great Thunderbird. Chosen for his mental prowess and agility, his strength for love and for kindness.

The Matriarch had chosen John.

And Gaat had not agreed.

John hadn’t been aware of it at first, until one day their father announced they were returning home.

As far as he and his brothers were concerned, they were home. The land of the Matriarch was all they had ever known. They were, of course, aware that their father was from across the ocean, very far away indeed. And they knew the story of how he had entered these lands held in Óen’s claws, a half-dead bedraggled mess - Kyrano’s words, not John’s.

The tales of Ériu, a land of eternal green and bounty, of their grandfather, Flaithri O’Treasaigh, king of their lands, and their grandmother who had trained in the Temple and knew all the medicines and was so kind to their people.

It would have been harder to leave if Gaat hadn’t forced the issue. John was still young when it all happened, but he remembered the fires and the screams. His mother grabbing him and Cóic, still in her egg, and bundling them up in furs so warm.

Of Óen’s bellows and fire, all the family’s dragons taking to the air in the darkness, his mother’s reassuring words as she held him close, his father’s voice firm and strong.

John shook himself. He often drifted when held by Cóic. He suspected she had interest in his memories and his point of view. They were so different, yet together they were one.

The family had returned to Ériu to great fanfare. The Flaithri was over joyous to have his son not only return, but with a wife and three strong sons.

The revelation of dragons took a longer time to settle, but eventually the O’Treasaigh family settled back into a new comfort, a new home that was as full of history as their previous.

The Kyrano family had travelled with them, their mother’s brother exercising the right to ensure her safety. Scott had once confided in John claiming Kyrano wanted to get away from Gaat as much as any of them. Gaat was a half-brother to both their mother and Kyrano, and a half they could both do without.

But as time passed and they all settled, it was good to have another family from across the Western Sea to share memories with.

Gordon and Alan were born one after the other and the Flaithri doted on both the young children. Five strong sons were cause for as much celebration as three.

The day Cóic hatched, John’s life changed.

He had slept with the egg every night, kept it warm as his mother instructed. It had so long been his companion, it was second nature to keep it safe. Until early in the morning dark, he had been awoken by movement and shattering eggshell.

She had bowled him over in eagerness, landing on his chest, still dripping with egg fluids. He had been bewitched by her beautiful turquoise eyes - to this day, he still was - though it had taken some time for her gold-tipped white feathers to fully come in. As a hatchling she had been rather scrawny, more like a bald bird than a dragon.

The wave of fond mock-offence had him smiling and he suspected that his response was her purpose in sending it.

It also brought him back to the present and separated him a little from her embrace. Today was one of mourning but in it there may be hope.

Cóic rumbled deep in her throat.

John startled. “Have you a response?”

The matriarch had sent out a request, across dragon minds seeking one willing to give everything for a heroic young prince. One willing to make the sacrifice to save him.

How the dragons saw his people, why they served, associated, and loved their human counterparts was not clear. While Cóic never hesitated to share her thoughts with him, there was seeing and feeling, but understanding was not a given. Dragonkind had its mysteries and its purpose and it was other than what humans pursued or recognised. It was also something John could only accept and trust.

But the call out across the seas and the land looking for one willing to give everything for a stranger…only clarified dragon difference. It was a hope, but it was also a terror, an unknown.

Cóic warbled, her heart lifting. She touched her great head gently to John’s.

She had an answer.

Her reassurance was a boon. Gordon could be saved.

As his fingers drifted through her neck feathers and he climbed into her saddle, his hope was joined by fear and his heart ached.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #thunderdragons #nuttyfic #yes I'm still writing this fic #its just taking me a while

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silasours · 2 months

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ৎ⸝⸝⠀EATING YOU OUT ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x fem reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. face sitting. edging. overstimulation. oral sex. toys usage. sub/power sub reader. praise kink. fingering. squirting. vox pleasuring himself while desperately eating you out. calling vox a 'good boy'. pretend that val has a nose here. #summary : just them enjoying their time with their face stuck up in between your legs. #note : feels like i have nobody else to write for but, oh well.

ʚ LUCIFER .

your fingers grip lucifer's blonde locks tightly, legs shaking on either side of his head. his forked tongue moves skillfully thrusting into you, hungrily gathering every drop of your juice onto his tastebuds. he groans at the taste, the vibration sending straight to your core which earns another moan that spills from your lips. the eyes of his glow in the weakly dim room, peering at your face from between your legs.

"my, aren't you a delicious one." he coos against your puffy lips before pressing his lips against them. he exaggeratedly sucked on them before releasing, his ears blessed by your high-pitched moans while his hands hold your legs apart by your thighs. lucifer draws his tongue out and licks a long stripe down your clit, teasing for a short moment before thrusting his tongue into your entrance once again.

your hold on his hair only grew stronger, face growing more flushed as you threw your head back in pleasure. your vision starts blurring up from the tears that gather around your eyes, feeling your body burn from how close you are.

of course lucifer knows you're close; he knew the moment your inner walls clenched around his slithery tongue tighter than they did before. your hips involuntarily rock against his tongue, pushing yourself further onto his face with trembling muscles. watching this made him chuckle as he allowed you to push yourself closer to him.

"pretty girl, gonna cum for me?" you nod the moment he says those words, triggering the coil to break faster than before. he groans lowly at how soaked you're getting, doing his best to not let a single drop escape from his hungry tongue. with a loud breath sucked into your throat, orgasm hits you like a strong wave that flows throughout your body.

you moan to the point where your voice cracks ever so slightly. lucifers lap your juices clean, patiently helping you to calm down from your intense high with lazy draw of lines of his tongue. once you're done, he presses a light kiss onto your clit before climbing up from your legs. his mouth and chin glisten from your release as a grin sits on his face, the sight alone making your face burn further.

ʚ ALASTOR .

how many times have you been denied release now? you've lost count. your head is clouded with desperation to finally break, yet this demon here is stopping you from doing so over and over again. with a frustrated cry, you open your eyes to gaze at alastor all teary, only to find him taking his sweet time with his lips pressed against your clit. "please, alastor.. w-wanna cum.." you barely managed to hold back a hiccup, a soft mewl rolling off your tongue.

you can feel his grin growing against you, his face pulling away which made you whine. his tongue draws out to lick around his lips, finger sneakily moving to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves of yours. "is that so?" you nod desperately, moaning at his touch in hopes of being able to convince him. he doesn't reply with any words but a smile, slowly lowering his face back to where it was.

"be careful what you wish for, my dear." he whispered before ramming two digits into your hole, your warm, gummy walls instantly tightening around them. your back arches off the bed as your eyes roll, a hand instinctively moving to his hair to tug on it. the burn on his scalp made him groan against your clit as well as his cock throbbing in the confinements of his pants.

alastor's tongue moves sloppily against your soaked clit; it was more than enough to make your body tremble especially with his fingers carelessly abusing your pretty hole. his fingers always work like magic, never once missing that sweet spot buried deep inside of you once they figure out where exactly it is.

you came without getting the chance to tell him, the back of your head pressing hard onto the bed sheets. you choke on your moans while struggling to breathe properly; alastor isn't giving you a break just yet. his maintains the speed of his tongue and fingers as you try to push his head away weakly. "too much- mnh-!"

"too much?" alastor chuckles, almost mocking your words. he withdraws his face but not his fingers, slowly sinking his teeth into the skin of your thigh while sucking on it. "we're not done just yet, darling."

ʚ VOX .

"yeah? you enjoy me sitting on your face?" you grip the headboard tightly, doing your best to maintain upwards as vox works his tongue on your clit. he moans against you at your words, his hand moving to stroke his leaking cock with a slight squeeze. despite your attitude, you can't deny how good his tongue is at targeting exactly where your weak spots are.

moans slip from your lips, your noises only causing vox's hips to thrust up into his hand. you chuckle weakly which soon gets cut off by another moan, your grip on the headboard gradually growing weak. you keep your gaze on his face, occasionally turning your head to glance over your shoulder, to see him pleasure himself and those pathetic whines of his. you breathe out a small 'good boy' at the sight.

vox groans loudly at the praise, his tongue now matching the pace of the hand on his member. his breath is hot against your soaked crotch, the increased speed only causing your legs to stumble. "fuck, vox," you whine with a sweet tone, resting your head against the headboard; the sole item that supports your body to stay upright.

he hums in return, the heavy breath signaling that he's close to his own release. you're no different, feeling the coil in your stomach crumbling with every thrust of his tongue. you huff as you gaze down at him, meeting his silent desperate plea for release. you keep your eyes fixated on his while grinding against his face, dangling the sweet release right in front of him.

you only grant him permission once you're close enough, feeling your whole body shudder as release consumes you. you screw your eyes shut, listening to vox's low groans. he lifts his hips up from the bed sheet, white strings of hot seed decorating his stomach. while you're trying to catch your breath, you notice vox's gaze on you as he slowly speaks with a shaky, muffled voice.

"please.. can i put it in you now?"

ʚ VALENTINO .

valentino's workplace is practically filled with nothing but the smell of your sweat, your sweet noises, and the buzzing sound of a vibrator. the lower half of your body is raised high from the couch, high enough to reach his face as he stands by the edge, a leg of his folded up on the plush couch. his pairs of arms hold your body firmly.

the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive bud, his long tongue twisting and turning inside of you. you squirm under his hold, hands still struggling to find a suitable place for you to hold onto because of the position you're put in. your mind is clouded, drool slowly rolling down from your lips while struggling to keep yourself from turning into more of a mess than you already are.

"looking so pretty like this, amorcito." his nose is pressed up against your clit, the liquid coating his skin as he moans at the feeling. your body shivers, feeling heat crawl up onto your face partially from how embarrassing this position is. you're fully exposed in the air as he enjoys your taste right there, not paying any mind the both of you are in his workplace with the potential of being seen and heard.

"val.. put me- down.." your voice is nearly quiet from the continuous pleasure you're receiving. valentino scoffs, ignoring your pleas without stopping his tongue. his teeth graze against your skin, the small worry of him biting into you causes you to whimper while digging your nails into one of the arms that's holding your body.

perhaps it's because you're overly clouded by pleasure, you didn't notice him reaching for the small controller that's attached to the vibrator and swiping it all the way up. the sudden strong vibration made you cry out loud, the heel of your foot digging into his shoulder, toes curled. you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. "no, w-wait, hngh! i'm gonna-"

you didn't even manage to finish your sentence before being fully consumed by a strong orgasm. you squirt as your legs shake violently against his hold, vision turning white while valentino watches with a grin. he slightly removes the vibrator from your now extra-sensitive bud, allowing you to calm down from your high. with a sense of pride and satisfaction sitting in his chest, he licks around your spasming pussy for a taste.

"didn't know my baby could put up such a show. do it once more for me, will ya?"

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

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cutielando · 1 month

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sleepy ~ lando norris

Summary: Lando’s girlfriend has become notorious around the paddock for falling asleep anywhere.

Words: 1.0k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

You had a very good relationship with your sleep schedule.

That was primarily due to the fact that with Lando’s schedule, having to fly all around the world almost every week, the constant time zone changes. You had to get some sleep any free chance you would get, no matter where.

Which is something Lando, his team and the fans around the world have grown to love. Every time the fans would see you in the paddock, they knew that pictures of you sleeping in a clearly uncomfortable position somewhere in the McLaren garage would surf the internet.

It was everyone’s favorite moment from the whole weekend.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again!” Zak greeted you once you had arrived in the garage with Lando for his home race.

“I couldn’t possibly miss this one” you said, hugging the older man and then stepping back to stand beside Lando again.

“We’re very glad to have you here. How’d you sleep last night?” he jokingly asked, making Lando chuckle from beside you.

It became a cute joke within the team, seeing as you managed to fall asleep every time, no matter how well rested you might be.

“Pretty good, but I can’t guarantee that you won’t find me passed out again” you laughed, knowing that it didn’t really bother anyone truly.

Lando talked for a little bit with Zak before leading you to his driver’s room.

When you opened the door, you noticed a new blanket and pillow that hadn’t been there before, which made you look back at Lando, raising your eyebrow.

“Where did those come from?” you asked as you picked up the blanket, immediately savoring the fluffy feeling against your fingers.

“Figured I would buy you a blanket for when you want to nap God knows where, just to make sure you’re comfy and won’t get cold” he explained, shrugging like it was not a big deal.

You pouted, the small gesture warming your heart.

“That’s so sweet, thank you baby” you put down the blanket and gave Lando a hug, pecking his lips before you let him get ready.

You walked around the garage silently, not wanting to get in anybody’s way. The race was about to begin and there was a lot going around, the place being as noisy as a garage could get before lights out.

And yet still, you find your eyes dropping down, sleep slowly threatening to blindside you and make you fall asleep.

But you had vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t fall asleep here, not at Silverstone.

It would prove to be harder than you had originally thought.

“Hey” Lando found you just moments before he had to get in the car, clutching his helmet in his hands.

“Be safe, okay? Come back to me in one piece and don’t forget to have fun” you said, helping fix the balaclava on his head.

He nodded, puckering his lips for his good luck kiss. Once you gave it to him, he put on his helmet and disappeared in the car, leaving you alone with his engineers.

“Hey Y/N” Jon said as he came to stand beside you, watching Lando now driving away from the garage.

“Hey Jon, how are you?” you tried to pay attention to everything he was telling you, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Jon chuckled once he saw how much you were struggling not to pass out.

You nodded. “I did, it’s just something about the atmosphere at the races that lulls me right back to sleep. But I promised myself I wouldn’t fall asleep at this one” you explained, stifling a yawn.

Jon nodded, making small talk for a little longer.

Once the race itself started, you were bundled up in your new blanket from Lando, a pair of McLaren earphones on your ears and sitting beside Cisca, Lando’s mother.

You were trying very hard to follow the race, but the tiredness was creeping in more and more, until you found yourself resting your head against the wall behind you, letting yourself drift to a deep sleep.

When Cisca noticed that you were more quiet than usual, she looked over and saw how peacefully you were sleeping, albeit with your head in a very uncomfortable position.

Smiling fondly to herself, she slowly took your head in her hands and moved you so you were laying with your head in her lap. She absentmindedly weaved her hands through your hair while intently watching the race on the screens.

It wasn’t until the last 3 laps that you woke up, silently kicking yourself for falling asleep.

You looked confusedly around you, noticing Cisca above you smiling.

“Good morning, sunshine. Just in time for the last laps of the race” she explained, helping you settle back into a sitting position.

“I was out for that long?” you moaned, cursing to yourself that you missed the entire race because you were sleeping.

“Don’t beat yourself up dear, the important thing is that you’re here with us” she comforted you, rubbing your arm while averting her attention back to the screen.

You watched the screen intently, cheering and screaming once Lando had crossed the checkered flag in P2.

Both Cisca and Adam gave you tight hugs, congratulating the entire team alongside you.

You walked out of the garage with the two of them, your blanket still wrapped tightly around you as you walked towards the podium, your hands linked with Lando’s mother.

Lando parked his car in front of the number 2 sign, jumping out of the car and running over to where you were waiting for him by the barriers.

“I’m so proud of you!” you squealed as soon as he was within arms length, hugging him close.

“Did you sleep through the race?” he asked as he pulled up his visor, his eyes twinkling.

You smiled sheepishly, making him laugh loudly inside of his helmet.

“My sleepy girl” he mumbled, giving you a squeeze before moving on to hug his parents.

The next day after the race, photos of you sleeping in Cisca’s lap circulated on the internet, making you and your boyfriend laugh.

Laugh because your habit had turned your relationship into a three-person relationship.

You, Lando and your sleep.

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missmatchablossom · 25 days

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summary: you've been helping your neighbor, gojo satoru, out by babysitting megumi. when megumi's catches the flu, gojo relies on you for help.

a.n.: megumi is ~4-5 years old, and is extremely attached to you. a little angsty, mostly fluffy, a sprinkle of smut at the end. cursing, female reader.

The first time Megumi got sick, Gojo panicked. Not the frantic, frenzied sort of panic, but the quiet, desperate kind that he did his best to hide. But you noticed it - the way his fingers trembled, the way he barely looked you in the eye, the way he repeatedly ran his hands through his hair.

It was usually you who made the elevator trip up to Gojo’s high-rise loft to babysit Megumi a couple of days a week. That’s why it took you aback to see him at your door at 11:53 at night, looking stricken as he told you Megumi refused to eat all day and started throwing up.

You followed him to his place immediately, your heart squeezing at the sight of Megumi bundled up in his bed, his little face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Hey sweetie, you’re not feeling so good?” you cooed, kneeling as you placed your cheek against his warm forehead. He shook his head, though his flushed cheeks and labored breathing were enough confirmation that he was sick.

“He’s running a fever. Probably a cold, but you should take him to the ER just in case,” you told Gojo, watching as his shoulders tensed. He was slightly older than you, but still young to have a child; you could imagine how anxious he was feeling about Megumi’s first ER visit.

“I can come with you,” you offered, watching his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“Please,” he said lowly, looking at you like you were his salvation.

You made quick work changing Megumi out of his sweat-soaked clothes and prepared a small bag of his favorite snacks and toys. You caught a glance at Gojo’s awe-stricken face before you scooped Megumi into your arms and followed Gojo to his car.

The silence in the car ride was heavy, Gojo’s stress was obvious in the way he gripped the steering wheel so hard his fingertips turned white.

“He’ll be okay. I’ll be here until he is,” you said gently.

His eyes flicked to you for a second before he swallowed roughly. He nodded, murmuring his thanks before you lost him to his thoughts.

Megumi was seen within the hour, the perfect patient as he allowed himself to be examined without a fuss (As long as you held his hand the entire time).

“It’s the stomach flu, pretty common for this time of the year. I’ll send you home with some medications, just be sure to keep him hydrated,” the doctor said.

“Let mom and dad take care of you, alright Megumi? You’ll get better in no time,” she said kindly, patting his head as he nodded sleepily. You looked at Gojo, waiting for him to correct her. But he didn’t.

As soon as she left the room, Gojo sank into the chair, exhaling heavily as he placed his head in his hands. It was strange to see a man so proud and confident to look so…tired. So human.

You stood between his legs, gingerly laying your hand on his shoulder.

“See? Megumi will be just fine,” you said, swiping your thumb back and forth over his skin.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt scared like that,” he admitted, reaching up to cover your hand with his.

“It’s how you know you’re a parent,” you said, moving your hand to cup his cheek.

He finally looked up at you, a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something else painted in those eyes of his. You watched him wordlessly as he leaned into your touch, his long lashes fanning across his cheeks.

After a beat, his eyes snapped open, looking downwards as a sleepy Megumi tugged at his pant leg.

“Home now please?” he asked groggily, barely able to keep himself upright.

The two of you laughed as Gojo lifted him into his arms, Megumi settling his head on Gojo’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home,” he said, wrapping his jacket around Megumi. You could’ve sworn he was looking at you as he said it, though.

Sick Megumi was unexpecedly clingy. The first few times you babysat him, you were taken aback by how quiet and independent he was. Most kids his age demanded constant attention, but he was happy to be left alone with his two dogs. You did find out that shadowpuppets was a surefire way to get him to laugh, though.

You tried getting Megumi to rest in his bedroom, but as soon as the preschooler realized you weren’t right next to him, he’d get up to wander Gojo’s loft, tearfully calling your name until he found you. That's why you decided to settle down on the leather recliner in the living room, Megumi asleep on your chest with a blanket draped over the two of you. You were immersed in your Kindle before the sound of the front door unlocking dragged you back to reality.

Gojos strolled in, stopping in his tracks when he noticed the two of you. His sharp eyes eyes softened as he approached.

“Welcome home. You’re back early,” you greeted quietly, your heartbeat quickening as Gojo lowered himself to a crouching position so he could sneak a look at Megumi’s face.

His eyes flickered to yours, full of emotion you couldn’t quite place. He swept a few strands out of Megumi’s eyes, studying him like he needed to confirm that he was breathing.

“I may or may not have snuck away,” Gojo mused, eyes full of warmth and mischief.

“Careful, or this one will begin picking up some bad habits,” you teased, rubbing Megumi’s back as he stirred.

“Nah, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes. Besides, there are more important things than work,” he said fondly, and the way his eyes flowed between the two of you while he talked, it felt like he was talking about you too.

You averted your eyes as you blushed, thankful that Megumi chose that moment to wake up.

His little fists rubbed against his half-closed eyes, looking between you and Gojo like he was wondering if he was dreaming.

He reached his hands out towards Gojo, who readily scooped him into his arms.

“Alright, I’ll get going then. I already gave him his meds and a bath so he should be okay for the rest of the night,” you said, gathering your things as you sat up.

You leaned forward to kiss Megumi goodbye, only to be stopped by the tears welling up in his eyes and the grip his hand had on your own.

“Don’t go,” he said, almost making you cry with how sad and adorable he was.

“Not fair Megumi. You don’t even cry when I leave,” Gojo teased, rubbing his back as you laughed.

“Gojo is home now my love, I’ll see you tomorrow though! I’ll already be here by the time you wake up,” you promised, wiping the tears from his soft cheeks.

Megumi sniffed as he shook his head, reaching his arms out towards you. You took him back into your arms, giggling at Gojo’s feigned hurt expression.

“I’m hurt, Megumi,” he said, making a show of wiping fake tears from his face.

“Oh no, look how sad he is Megumi! Don’t you want to spend some time with him?” you said, inching closer to Gojo, whose arms were outstretched.

Megumi looked at him for a second before shaking his head, burying his face in your neck.

You laughed even harder at Gojo’s expression, unable to find Megumi anything except utterly adorable.

“Fine, I get it. I would’ve chosen her too,” Gojo said, throwing you off with the affection in his smile.

“I can stay untill he falls asleep,” you mouthed to Gojo, hoping he could read your lips. He smiled at you before leaning into your space, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Or you could stay for dinner. As a friend, not a babysitter,” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

“I couldn’t impose,” you replied, a bit more breathlessly than you intended.

“Nonsense. I’ve been dying to cook you dinner while you sit prettily in that chair,” Gojo said, seemingly pleased at the blush revisiting your cheeks.

How could I say no to that?

The sun had set long before you were finally able to get Megumi to bed for the night, the moonlight seeping into Gojo’s living room through the enormous windows.

You allowed yourself to sink down onto his couch, the exhaustion from the day wearing on you. Though Megumi’s fever finally broke, he could barely keep his food down today, forcing you to go back and forth bathing him, changing his bedsheets, and cooking different meals to see what he could stomach.

The click of the door being unlocked made you jump, the familiar sight of Gojo making you forget about how tired you were.

He sauntered towards you, looking so enraptured that he didn’t speak a word.

You froze as you understood why. The usual modest clothes you had on were long forgotten after repeated trips to the bathtub to wash the vomit and sweat off Megumi. The chaos of the day left you in your underclothes - a thin tank top and cotton shorts - which Gojo seemed to be studying as though he’d never seen them before.

“Welcome home,” you began shyly, sitting up as you attempted to cover yourself with a pillow.

“Sorry about the outfit. Long day,” you continued sheepishly.

Gojo’s eyes finally snapped up to yours, somehow making you feel more naked than ever.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, something unreadable in his tone.

He changed out of his work attire - taking off his watch, loosening his tie, and stripping off his jacket. Completely normal things to do when you get home. But he captivated your attention, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

“I can’t believe I’m jealous of a child,” he said to himself as he sat to join you on the couch, looking sinfully handsome with his hair tousled and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“What do you mean?” you pressed, feeling your self-control begin to slip as you smelled as his cologne wafting towards you.

“Megumi gets to be with you all day. Gets to hug you, hold you, lay his head on your chest. I’m jealous,” he drawled.

You heard it again. That voice in the back of your head begging you to give in to the pull you constantly felt towards Gojo.

You dared to inch closer, well aware of his gaze roving up and down your body.

“You can do those things,” you said slowly, never breaking eye contact with him. And just like that, he snapped.

He was on you instantly, pinning you to the back of the couch as his lips moved against yours, desperate and demanding.

You kissed him back with the same fervor, shamelessly roving your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, until you reached his hair. His silvery locks were just as silky as you expected, and you couldn’t help yourself as you gave them a light tug.

The deep, guttural sound that came out of him sent a wave of pleasure throughout your body. You felt your breath leave you as Gojo laid you on your back, positioning himself between your legs.

“I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you,” he murmured against your ear. His lips began moving from your jaw down your neck, causing you to gasp and squirm as he smiled against you.

“I kept myself on a tight leash for Megumi’s sake,” he started, trailing kisses across your shoulders.

“But you in that outfit? Fuck, I knew it was over for me,” he said, pulling back to admire how flushed and breathless he made you.

You grabbed the edge of his collar, tugging his lips to yours to return the favor. You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, his ragged breathing music to your ears.

“Fucking finally,” you said between kisses.

The sound of a thud coming from Megumi’s room caused you both to freeze. You rushed over to check on him, relieved to see he kicked his water bottle off his bed in his sleep. Sighing, you dragged the blanket back over his sleeping form, walking back to where Gojo sat on the couch.

His pupils were blown out, his lips bruised and swollen.

“Maybe we should continue another time, I don’t wanna wake him up,” you said, surprised at Gojo’s lack of protest. Instead, he tugged you into his lap, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Free your schedule next week. Megumi’s gonna spend a day with Uncle Nanami, and I’m taking you out on a date. And we’re gonna end the night in my bedroom, where you can be as loud as you want.”

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screampied · 26 days

Note

Hey vegas baby, so lil request if you don’t mind, imagine riding Sukuna and he is slapping your face urging you to go faster, and you slapping him back and laughing in his face 🤭 like he is in shock because how dare you, but in the same time he is like “ok girl, I’m intrigued” 🤨

Love you and your works 🤎

❤︎ ໋𓈒 sukuna getting turned on at you being a brat

warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, degradation, impact play, unprotected, choking, overstim. an. thank u luv u2!!!!

sukuna would be laid back with the most smuggest expression on his face — he noticed how you’d always halt your hips a little, slowing down the moment you were getting close.

he tsks, bringing a big hand to grip your chin before giving you a few smacks. “awwww,” he’d coo, feeling your hips try to keep up its repetitive jerking. he was just teasing you, giving you another light tap on your cheek before your bottom lip quavered. you felt yourself reaching close, your legs felt like complete mush before you whimpered. “don’t tell me the big girl’s tapping out already. what happened to ridin’ me until my eyes rolls back?” and sukuna sneers once he sees your cute glare. “i was rooting for you, princess.”

“s-shut up, ‘kuna.” you’d gnaw on your bottom lip, and he stares at you with a smirk. knowing him, he’d probably reply with the obvious, ‘make me’ to which he did. as you made him lean back just a bit more, your hand ends up lightly going against his face.

sukuna’s stunned for a moment before he jibes. he brings both big hands towards the edges of your waist, pressing his thumbs into them before snarling lowly.

“hm. did you just slap me?” and whilst he said that, you felt yourself pulse — not a heartbeat but a familiar pulse that was located between your legs. not waiting for an answer, he snickers, grabbing your chin once more before he spats, “oh. don’t look away from me now. do it again. ‘n just a heads up, if you’re gonna smack me at least do it harder, little girl.”

“i’m not gonna do it again because you’re gonna e-enjoy it.” you moaned, feeling him use his hands to make your hips rock against him again. it felt so good . . the stimulation, whilst you grind against him, your knees felt weak. each buckle, you heard an echoe through your ears ring the more and more you felt yourself getting close.

“yeah ‘m gonna e-enjoy it,” he mocks your little weak stutter, dragging a thumb towards your upper lip. he snickers, pulling you into a quick kiss before humming. “c’monnn, no eye contact either? such a shy baby.”

you continue to glare at him. making a cute attempt at moving your hips again — but he reached so deep inside your walls, that spot.

you let off a soft whine, feeling the curve of his dick stretch against your sweet cunt that never stopped gripping down on him. it was exceedingly sloppy, your arms that were thrown over his neck started to feel warm.

“f-fuckkk,” you’d bite your tongue, and sukuna just guffaws once more. he finds your behavior adorable and somewhat amusing.

he considers it cute on how you desperately tried to bite back your own moans, you throbbed at the continuous stares he gave you. such playful stares, he was waiting for it.

it was the way your legs were just about to give out — you felt an entire bundle of nerves brew up. up and up and up, you didn’t know how much longer you could have lasted.

“oh, boo. don’t make me fall asleep,” sukuna raises a brow, releasing an overly dramatic faux yawn. he was so cocky, purposely being in manspread for you. he parts his legs just a bit more and you moan. the heftiness of his cock pressing into you, it was enough to make your mouth salivate. “thought i trained my girl to not get so s—”

sukuna gets cut off once he feels your hips start to quicken and he chuckles, maintaining the same rough grip on your waist.

“mhm,” he huffs out, feeling gradually hasten. yet sukuna barely bats an eye, although . . that’s when you bring a hand to wrap around his neck. “choking me now? that’s k-kinda kinky.”

you watch as sukuna’s breathing hitch, and a sly smile spreads across his lips. he likes the feeling of your slender fingers wrapping around his throat. you give it a slight squeeze, and for a brief moment you watch his pearly fangs poke out. if he wasn’t amused, he was surely amused now.

sukuna doesn’t expect you to start laughing in his face now. he’s a bit caught off guard — the both of you were reaching such euphoric peaks at an unsteady pace, he intakes a single sharp breath before you murmur. “now look at you, ‘kuna. growing flustered ‘n all.”

“don’t … get too much of a swell head, brat,” he scoffs, and he was for sure flustered. a cute tinted pink color rises towards his face, and you felt his dick sporadically twitch inside of you. sukuna was definitely embarrassed. for once, he barely had a witty comeback, and he grips the fat of your ass before giving it a rough spank. “shut up ‘n finish.”

“don’t tell me what to do with a cute expression like that,” you giggle, the grip of your thumbs lingering a bit harder against his neck. sukuna snarls. you could tell you were irking his nerves, and he always let you. it pissed him off to say the least, sukuna casually gives you an eye roll and you smile. “you’re being the brat more than me.”

“watch how you speak to me girl,” he grumbles, and a small pout curls against his lips — it was cute, the curse trying to keep up his mean tough facade yet was melting right underneath you.

he loathed how much he enjoyed feeling your hands, the softness of your bare hands against his skin.

feeling you steadily jerk back and forth against him, a toe-curling orgasm right at the tip of your tongue, you moaned. sukuna buried his fingers into your skin, his right thigh idly bouncing underneath you. “mhm. try giving me dirty talk.”

“dirty talk?” you tease, softly stroking your thumb against the middle part of his neck. “you’re into that too, ‘kuna?”

“shut up woman,” he scoffs with puffed cheeks. he regrets even asking — yet you hum, leaning up close to him before giving him what you wanted. you imitated him earlier, smacking his temple gingerly yet with just enough roughness.

the last thing you expect was for a low needy moan to depart from his lips. “you gonna make a mess for me, sukuna?”

“f—fucking woman,” he grunts, and you can tell he’s starting to lose composure. the softness in your voice, the playfulness that ran underneath it. he’s stirring up your insides without a doubt, making your knees buckle and lock. as you straddle him, he could barely keep his hands gripped onto your waist. roughly attached like velcro.

sukuna’s breath, it became unsteady. this time you’re the one squeezing his chin, giggling at the way he tries to give you an irritated glare. “just make me cum.”

“okay baby.”

“call me that again ‘n see what happens.”

“aw baby, don’t be so stubborn.”

his eyes flicker towards you, and you were keen on getting on him annoyed. the grip your soaked pussy had on sukuna had him grow mute for a moment. just the mere squelches that loudly ricocheted from between your legs. the sweetened slick that ran against your slit, it had him locked. for a moment he’s seeing nothing but pure angelic stars. sukuna’s practically speechless, and he finds his rough hands tightly holding onto the mounds of your ass.

“f-fuck,” he huffs out, and his voice grows a tad bit lower. the baritone in it makes you pulsate. shockwaves started to coarse through his veins. it was a multitude of synonyms — heavily intense.

it makes his jaw tense and tighten, he bites down on his lip the moment he feels his balls nearly prepare to dunk inside of you. he was so thick, you had to angle yourself a certain way so he could hit each and every orifice of your gummy walls. every corner, every direct hit to make you moan tight against his ear. every crevice.

“c-cumming,” he throatily groans, his climax hitting him like a truck — the both of you ended up finishing at the same exact time, and sukuna’s eyes eventually do end up rolling back. he literally ate his words. he was on a plateau, a constant high. he swallows thickly, and you make your hips come to a halt once he starts to pour a hefty load into your cunt.

it was so much that it spilled out. all out of your folds, it was a mess. you wriggled your hips teasingly, getting over your orgasm yourself before running a finger down his chest. “tapping out on me, sukuna?”

“tch,” he growled, feeling that same hot flush rise towards his cheeks. he couldn’t deny though, he may have found himself a few favorite kinks. sukuna’s hooded eyes glare at you before his and flex and tense. “whatever, little girl. you—you win, this time.”

#★vegasbaby.#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader smut #anime smut #female reader

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pseudowho · 2 months

Text

Fire and Iron

Forced to stay the night with Nanami Kento, the town's blacksmith, after tending to his wounds, you find yourself smouldering in his irresistible flame.

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, loss of virginity

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Your boots cracked through the ice-topped slurry puddles scattering the mud path in the village. The shawl bundled over your shoulders was not enough, and the biting cold wind whipped your cloak back, stripping its usefulness off your shivering shoulders.

Townsfolk waved to you, nodding, smiling; greetings for a familiar face, many of them grateful for your travels to their icy town over the years, lacking even a basic healer of their own, let alone one so talented.

Passing by the blacksmith's hut on your way, you paused out the front, feeling the heat bellowing forth like dragon's breath. You tipped your head back, the smell of ash and steel filling your nose. As you paused, moments after, so did the clang of hammer on anvil.

You opened your eyes, stinging in the brutal cold and smoke. You, once more, like a hundred times before, had caught the eye of the blacksmith. He, whose name you did not know. He, who looked but never touched. He, to whom you had passed so many thousands of hours of your life, and his life to you, through gaze alone.

Stood proud at the anvil, shadowing the forge like the door to hell behind him, his broad shoulders wore only an open-chested white linen shirt, and a thick brown leather apron. With his ashy blond hair, and the lines of his face filled with soot, he was ageless and unknowable. He looked to you, his sharp face quiet and impassive; expression always somewhere between fury and tranquility.

Your lips parted once, as if to speak, and it jumped the blacksmith to life. With a barely perceptible nod, and a grunt, he swung his hammer back, brought down in beautiful accuracy, shaping smouldering steel. The clang rung through you, your chest jolting with a short gasp, and you collected yourself, stepping onwards. You were sure you could feel his cool gaze through the back of your head.

Another patient; another healed. Another grateful family; another life prolonged. The days were short now, and as you stepped out of the house of rough-hewn wood and stone, the forest pines were bathed in dying light, netting the low winter sun above the horizon. It was a punishing journey home, on foot, and the horses were long since put to bed.

The blacksmith's hut held its own sunset, the forge open but unattended. You heard stamps, heavy feet and cursing. You paused in the burst of warmth, illuminated, listening. Curiosity carried your feet into the hut, the heavy wet hem of your skirts collecting ashes, absorbing the blacksmith's domain.

"Are you...are you alright?" You called, uncertain, "Sir?" The footsteps, the swearing, had stopped. You stepped further in, feeling the forge belch at you, almost excruciatingly hot now.

"Get away from there!" The bark, deep and commanding, made you squeak and stumble. Darting through the side door, the blacksmith looped one thick arm round your waist before you fell towards the forge, effortlessly lifting you round, his back to the furnace, his face in shadow.

He was close; close enough that you could smell the soft sweat, the tang of fire and metal. He hissed as your hands dropped to his forearm, and you felt a cold dripping cloth draped over it.

"Do you often wander into places uninvited?" He snipped at you. You recognised the cadence in his low voice-- pain.

"I-- ...you're hurt," you insisted, voice barely above a whisper. Looking up, your eyes tried to gauge his unreadable face in the gloom. You felt him huff, warm air across your cheeks. His arm loosened, releasing you. As he stepped back, turning away to close the forge, you saw the blacksmith's mountainous shoulders tense, twitching.

"It's nothing," he retaliated, brisk. You stepped forwards again, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. At first, he flinched, then begrudgingly allowed you to turn him, and lift the damp rag covering his forearm. A thick welting burn, running the length of his forearm, lay weeping and angry on his skin, already nicked with so many little scars. You heard his teeth grit as the air hit his wound.

"Nothing," you scoffed, "this needs dressing. Let me help you." You felt him flinch beneath your hands, hesitant. He felt his skin prickle under yours, finding such curious pleasure in your touch alongside his pain. Your beseeching eyes took him the rest of the way, and he found himself accepting you.

"I...not here," the blacksmith toned, his eyes flitting to the town around him, "if they believe me injured, I'll lose business." You nodded, rummaging in your overburdened satchel, until he took you gently by the hand.

"My home," he began, hesitant, your hand so soft and small in his broad calloused palm, "you'll...you are welcome. It is clean. Quiet. I...I will not harm you. I promise."

Aware of his size and strength, aware of the air of mystery surrounding him amongst the townsfolk, the blacksmith was quick to reassure you. Your eyes softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles at your words, electricity crackling up your arm.

"I know you won't," you assured. The briefest smile graced his severe face when you offered your name. You felt it warm you from the belly downwards. As he pulled encouragingly on your fingers, leaving the forge to die naturally with the approaching nightfall, you were led through the back of the hut, seeing a newly revealed sprawling cabin of wood and stone, at the edge of the forest. You felt the first kiss of snow upon your cheek.

"Nanami Kento," the blacksmith replied, welcoming you over the threshold. You smiled up at him, taking in his home; barely lit, at first, until he struck a lantern to life. You placed your bag upon a table, rummaging for salves as Kento began to build the fire, skilled and efficient.

You basked in the homely room; autumnal tapestries lining the walls, skin rugs on the floor and furs on the chairs, hanging herbs above a countertop, circled with hung skillets and pans. You relaxed easily into the sincerity of Kento's welcome. A frigid wind slapped the windows, rattling the door.

Before long, an enormous cast iron pot boiled with water, and you knelt before Kento, appraising his wound in the orange glow. Cleaning your hands, wetting a rag with clean water, you moved to clean the ash from his arm before pausing.

"This will hurt," you apologised, looking up to him. Kento's heart stuttered; how many hours had he spent, imagining those sweet eyes, those gentle fingers? Too long. Too many words unspoken over too many years. He was not used to such tenderness.

"I am used to pain," he hushed, smooth and barely audible above the crackle of flame, "my job has certain...hazards, after all." You hummed, swiping the cloth gently, removing dirt and debris.

"Still," you hummed, "I don't like to hurt a friend." Kento chuckled, and you felt yourself blush from hairline to toes at the rich mirth of it.

"We are...friends, are we?" His voice was low and conspiratorial, and you felt it stir a hunger deep within you. You smiled back, mulish as you dabbed salve onto his burn. His knees were parted, with you knelt between them, and your elbows rested on the thick muscle of his thighs. You felt safe, warm, held.

"All those years, passing back and forth," you sighed, teasing, "and not one hello? Just lots of nods," your stomach swooped as Kento laughed again, "and our friendship is just that. An accumulation of nods."

"Would we have stopped at 'hello'?" Kento retaliated. He caught the brief pause in your bandaging, before you continued. You spoke, uncertain again.

"Well," you hummed, testing the water, "offer me one now...and we shall see where it goes." Looking up, you gasped to find your face just inches from Kento's. He smiled at you, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips and back up again.

"Hello," he whispered, quiet and mischievous, "and thank you."

Your breath fluttered out; Kento could feel it against his lips, beckoning him.

"I...it's getting late," you started, and Kento blinked out of his reverie, glancing to the inky black outside his windows, "I should go."

Kento grasped your fingers once more, rising with you as he stood, your shawl shushing against his chest, barely covered by his soft linen shirt. Kento hummed, sounding grave, stepping to the other side of the room.

"It is night," he said, hands cupped around his eyes as he squinted out of the windows, "and the woods are barely safe in the day. I...I cannot allow you to travel. Alone, in the snow. You must stay."

His tone broached no argument, yet still you tried, packing your bag, your cheeks aflame.

"I...it isn't..." you stuttered, and Kento turned to you, chin inclined to the floor, one fine eyebrow raised. You took a deep breath, certain that if you didn't leave now, you may fall too deeply into Kento's insistent heat. Yet...you knew he was right. The path was treacherous. The snow would take you before the dawn.

"Would you like a bath?" Kento offered, turned away to save you your blushes; a gentleman.

"I-- please don't go to any trouble--" Kento swiftly ignored you, beginning to grasp the enormous iron pot, lifting it with stunning ease. His voice didn't even hitch.

"It's no trouble. I bathe every night. You can go before me." Kento carried the pan, stepping behind a folding wooden screen, and you followed him as if to argue, watching him begin to fill an enormous copper bathtub. Your hands shook as you began to remove your shawl, still blushing, so briefly overwhelmed before squashing it down.

Kento glanced up at you, pausing as he poured hot water, "This will take me some time," he said, apologetic, "please make yourself comfortable. I'll call for you."

You nodded, clearing your throat, hands twisting in your removed shawl. Kento chastised himself for admiring the soft curve of your breasts into your waist, the hidden delight of the swelling of your hips beneath your heavy skirts. He did not see how the steam rose fast, dampening his white shirt, how you could see all the way to his navel as he leaned over the bath. Neither of you knew how the other stirred within.

As you walked the length of the room, your fingertips brushing tapestries and grazing over warm furs, your curiosity drew you to a wide, flat trinket box, inlaid with mother of pearl, the colours an aurora in the rolling firelight. You stroked the box just once, before lifting the lid.

Your eyes crinkled immediately with joy at the treasures within; the box was full of lovingly crafted necklaces of gold, silver, pearl and gem, the chains finer and softer than any you had ever seen. You did not feel Kento approach as you admired them.

"I'd like for you to choose one," he offered, sincere, as you spun to face him. He raised his hands placatingly, a smile at the edge of his mouth, "not in lieu of payment, of course. A gift, I...made them with no real aim as to who should receive them."

"You made these?" You gaped, unable to fathom how such enormous hands crafted such intricate delights, "Kento, I-- they're beautiful, I couldn't possibly..."

If Kento had held any reservation, after hearing his name tumble from your lips, he was filled with the burning certainty that the jewellery should be for you, and you alone. His hand closed over yours as you moved to shut the box.

"Please," he breathed, so close, "choose one, or I shall give you them all." Swallowing, your hand hovered over a fine chain of silver and emerald, your fingertips brushing the gem. Kento hummed his approval, before picking it up, his calloused fingers all softness and grace.

"My favourite, too," he rumbled, brushing your hair off the nape of your neck as he clipped the necklace into place. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers on your neck, and almost ran as he whispered beside your ear, "Your bath is ready."

Stripping behind the wooden screen, hearing Kento amble around the room beyond, you sighed as the hot water enveloped you. Washing yourself with a soft sponge, cleaning off the grime of the day, your hand wandered absentmindedly downwards, fingertips grazing through your folds, naturally moving to relieve yourself of the building tension--

"I've left you a shirt." Your hand darted upwards with a guilty splash, Kento's voice only meters away behind the screen.

"Thank-- thank you," you squeaked, blushing, before climbing out, so naked apart from your exquisite new necklace. Drying on a soft towel, your hand hesitated over the shirt draped over the screen, before pulling it on over damp skin. It reached down your thighs, but left little else to the imagination.

Kento remained outwardly stoic, unreadable, averting his gaze as you crept out, arms holding yourself and squashing your breasts together, the colour of your nipples as faint as a ghost under the white linen shirt. He cleared his throat, coughing lightly before skirting past to the bath. You felt heat creep up your neck at the gossamer hush of his clothes hitting the floor, the shifting water as he stepped in, the way he sighed in relief, almost as if--

"I shall sleep in the chair tonight," Kento said, slow and considered, "and you shall have my bed." You felt indignation roll within you.

"Don't be ridiculous," you scolded, "you're injured, and this is your home--"

'-- and you are my guest," he grumbled.

"I won't allow it," you insisted, almost forgetting yourself as you approached the wooden screen, "I'll put some furs on the floor and--"

"You believe I would let you sleep on the floor?" He growled, furious at your suggestion, "I should rather you have me share the bed with you over that--"

"Fine. Then we shall share the bed. And there will be no more argument." You clapped a hand over your mouth as the words tumbled forth, unbidden. Mortified by your own suggestion, you removed your hand to speak again.

Kento stepped round from behind the screen, his towel draped lazily round his waist. You gaped up at him, stunned. He was...younger than you thought, his blond hair now soft and floppy, the ash removed from the lines in his face, taking ten years off him. You faced him, his towering form, the practiced rolls, peaks and planes of muscle belonging to a working man, his forearms so thick--

"Then...we should get to bed," Kento insisted, stepping past you, through a doorway to his bedroom, where you heard him rummaging for clothes, "it is late and I am up with the lark."

You hesitated where you stood, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, desperately curious, but paralysed.

"I don't bite," Kento called out, and you gulped down the sounds of soft fabric dropping over his body, still crippled with indecision and embracing yourself as he stepped out to put out the fire. You were lost momentarily in darkness before he stepped to you, the lantern between you, a beacon in the dark. You felt his hand close around your fingers again. You heard him whisper.

"It will become cold quickly, now the fire has died. Come. Stay warm."

You allowed yourself to be led to Kento's bedroom, hypnotised by the small swinging lantern. Kento led your hand downwards, placing it to the edge of the bed for you to feel your way, your fingers gliding through soft fur and cool sheets. With shaking hands, you crawled across to the head of the bed. Kento waited for you, flipping down the sheets, flipping them back up to your chin as you both slipped between them.

You heard nil but your own heartbeat. Kento faced you, the torch light embering behind him leaving him only just visible as your eyes adjusted to the light. The sheets had not yet warmed from your bodies, and you shivered. You felt Kento shift beside you.

"You...are cold," he stated as if in question. You remained quiet, gripping your hands to your chest lest they reach out for him.

"I'm...I'll warm up. Soon," you reassured yourself as much as him. You heard one doubtful grunt from him. Five minutes passed, and still, Kento felt you shiver against the sheets. Pulling a fur up to your chins, he felt prickles up his legs as one of your feet reached hesitantly out to touch him. He felt rather than heard you sigh.

"So warm," you whispered, your little voice soft with comfort in the dark. Kento's breath caught in his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside his soft trousers.

"Do you...need me?" He offered. He felt your other foot reach out in answer, cold toes wiggling against the downy hair on his leg. He felt a dangerous, needy arousal thread through him.

Reaching out his uninjured arm, he hooked it round your waist, chuckling as you squeaked when he pressed against you. You hummed in pleasure at the heat rolling off him, basking in his warmth, forgetting your awkwardness for a moment. Kento and you lay intertwined like that, with you softening like butter in his arms.

After a few minutes, you shifted against him, about to drift off to sleep. Kento must have been near sleep as well, groaning into your hair as you shifted, reflexively clinging you closer to him. Your bottom, completely bare with his shirt shifted up your body, pressed back to his groin. His clothed cock was hard and barely restrained in his loose trousers, and pressed between your thighs.

You felt a jolt run through you, feeling a warm trickle of arousal, so alien to you, seep out between your thighs. Kento almost saw stars as it dampened the trousers over his cockhead, and he frowned, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade in apology and embarrassment.

"I-- I'm sorry, I--...it's been so long...since I've felt a woman-- shit, I'm--" Kento rested his nose against your neck, unable to stop himself from ghosting his lips there. You dropped your head back to him, and he growled in appreciation, nuzzling your neck, feeling your thighs clamp around the tip of his cock, your arousal seeping through his trousers and mixing with his own.

"I've never--" you whispered, blushing furiously, drunk on the feeling of his body against yours, feeling so curiously empty and aching to be filled. Kento understood immediately, and moved to pull back.

"No!" You squeaked, holding onto his arm, pushing yourself back to chase him along the bed, "Please, I-- I want--...you. I want you." Your words sat heavy in the air. Kento shifted behind you, at war with himself.

"You don't know what you're asking," he growled, fighting against you to remove his arm, "I am no boy."

"And I'm no girl, nor stupid," you reassured, "I'm not ignorant."

In an instant, Kento moved above you, on all fours, his arms caging you in, corseting you to his bed. He stared down at you, enormous chest heaving, eyes roving down your body, quickly intoxicated by your peaked nipples, beneath his shirt, the hem of it barely covering your sex, still feeling your arousal dampening his cock.

He leaned down, nestling his mouth against your neck again, tongue flicking out, tasting you. He felt you still under his lips, just a little mouse, in the jaws of a bear.

"And yet, all that knowledge is just academic, until you're crying out that my cock is too big for you," he growled, warning you away, barely able to stop himself. He felt you squirm beneath him, his head swimming with you. He was lost, then, to your tiny whisper in the gloom.

"Show me-- please." Kento shuddered, a drop of pre-cum seeping out of his cock, soaking through his trousers and your-- his-- shirt, to dampen your belly. You shivered, desperate to know Kento biblically, desperate for this fabled ecstasy.

Kento raised his mouth from your neck, reading your eyes, seeing such certainty in them. Tangling his fingers with yours beneath the sheets, he pressed the length of his body down against you as he kissed you, his other hand framing your jaw, gently encouraging it open to slide his tongue against yours. Your soft little moan was like music to his ears.

Kissing you deeply, learning your voice and your mouth, letting you learn the peaks and planes of his body with your free hand, Kento kept your other hand plaited with his own, fearful of leaving you to take this journey alone.

He felt himself shudder with the unbridled privilege of being able to worship you, jealously grateful that you had not been left to some boy. He was overwhelmed by the need to set your standards high at the first hurdle.

"Let me taste you," he murmured into your mouth, and you hesitated, unsure of what he meant. Swiping his thumb across your palm, Kento's mouth ventured downwards, sucking the skin of your neck, nipping before soothing the skin with his tongue, feeling you become pliable, supple as water. His fingers danced over the laces holding your shirt together, giving you opportunity to stop him, before untying them, freeing your breasts.

Laying his tongue flat over one nipple, Kento allowed it to curve to the shape of you, to know you, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking on your nipple while his hand toyed with and kneaded the other. He revelled in your whines, a high, keening mewl as you arched off the bed into his mouth. You felt his licks and sucks, curiously, between your legs, and you could not help but buck up against him.

Kento grunted at the feeling of your pussy pressing against his thigh, and moved one hand down to hold your hips still.

"Slow down-- let me show you," he ordered, gentle in his insistence. You trembled under his fingertips, your hips settling back to the bed. He rumbled his approval, rolling your nipple under his tongue again until you sighed, breathy and ecstatic, "Good girl."

In reward, his mouth continued to trail downwards, and your eyes fluttered closed, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, your fingernails scratching through his damp hair. Kento shivered at the sensation, feeling his cock leap against his thigh.

When his mouth reached your mound, you squeaked out in alarm, flipping the blankets down to see Kento, illuminated in the orange light.

"What are you-- your mouth, Kento--" Kento's eyes crinkled up at you, and two arms came to loop round the top of your thighs, pulling you down the bed towards him, your shirt being rucked up against the drag of the mattress to completely expose your glistening pussy to him.

Maintaining eye contact with you, you trembled with anticipation as Kento poked his tongue out into a point, first grazing your folds, before stroking from side to side to ease in between them. The sound that broke out from you as his tongue stroked over your clit, hot and wet, was one Kento masturbated to for years to come.

You felt as though you had been lifted from earth and dropped amongst the clouds as he licked at you, sucking, stroking, tasting, the pleasure so otherworldly compared to what your own hand could achieve, that you felt yourself being rushed towards your peak at speed.

Twisting and squirming against his mouth, you reflexively tried to pull your pussy away from Kento's attentions. His arms tightened around the tops of your thighs, growling into you, pulling you back as you tried to scoot away. Your hand tugged at his hair as you arched, whimpering, coated in a fine sweat. As Kento groaned into your cunt, you watched his hips roll and hump against the bed, the sight alone enough to send your orgasm crashing through you, and you worshipped his name in a long, keening cry.

Kento let his laps and sucks become softer, languid, letting you float through the haze of your pleasure. Nuzzling at you, tasting you as you trailed lazy blissful fingers through his hair, Kento planted soft kisses to your inner thigh.

Moving back up, stroking his nose against your neck, Kento felt your hand move down his shoulders and back, before coming round to ghost over the front of his trousers. Kento shuddered, kneeling above you to remove his shirt, skin prickling with the need to feel yours against his own.

Gazing down at you, his eyes like whiskey in the flickering light, he grazed a palm from in between your breasts, down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one swift tug, exposing you completely to him.

Your hand still trailed over his groin as he knelt, and you were captivated, obsessed with the shape, weight and length of his cock in your hands, blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. As you grasped the lace at the front of his trousers, undoing it, and squeezing the head of his cock between your fingers, Kento moaned, ragged, leaning one hand sideways to support himself.

"Fuck-- I haven't-- not for so long," he moaned, low and husky, feeling your inexperienced fingers explore his cock and balls in a way that felt almost abusively naive. As your thumb glided beneath his foreskin, collecting the wetness of his pre-cum, exploring his slit, Kento hissed, panting and grabbing your hand.

You broke out of your reverie, blushing with mortification, tears pricking in your eyes as you began to apologise. Kento interrupted, shushing you, one hand still gripping your fingers around his cock, the other coming up to cup your face, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

"Not you," he huffed, stroking your cheek, smiling down at you with fevered eyes, "me, it's-- I-- I'll cum in your hand if you carry on." Your eyes glimmered, hungry to see how he looked as you pleasured him, and you moved yourself, leaning close, squeezing him again beneath his own hand, and he cried out in pleasure. You felt another drip of his arousal across your fingers, and you gulped, your tongue darting out across your lips.

As you lowered yourself to his lap, Kento's eyebrows raised in shock, and desperate awe, as you licked the weeping cockhead sticking out from your joined enclosed hands.

A low rumble ebbed through Kento, his eyes suddenly dark and hungry as he looked down at you, wordlessly using your hand inside his own, to pump the length of his cock. Feeling the intoxicating glide of soft skin over woody hardness, you let him use your hand to masturbate himself as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, licking, tasting the musty pre-cum there.

Every instinct screamed at Kento to chase his orgasm, to press your head further down his cock so he could use your little hand to jack off into your mouth, and he felt overwhelmed by the innocent licks and sucks you gave him, eyes cast upwards to see what effect they had on him. Kento moaned desperately, twisting on his haunches, fingers in turn tangling into your hair and coming away, clenching and unclenching at speed.

He felt the approaching rush of divine ecstasy, thrumming up his back in waves, his balls tightening up against the base of his cock--

Snapping, Kento pulled your hand and mouth off him, heaving you up the bed and back onto the pillows, before pinning you down with his body, panting into your neck, trying not to spill his seed over your belly. You were thrilled, ecstatic with Kento's pleasure, eager to see more of it.

You crept your hips up to his, trying to ease his cock into you. Kento huffed, his hand shooting down to press your hips down again.

"--going to kill me-- I swear-- no idea...you have no idea what you're doing to me--" Kento panted, quaking above you, one forearm planted above your head. As his peak ebbed away, Kento plaited his hand with your own again, above your head. He felt his cockhead resting against the smooth resistance of your entrance, and he suddenly felt so responsible for you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he huffed, aware he was bigger than average, but knowing from the fevered look in your eyes that he could not dissuade you-- not that he wanted to, at this point, his cock throbbing with urgent need.

"Please," you begged, "please." You felt Kento's hips press forwards into your soaking wet heat, feeling a slight sting as it met resistance. Kento rested his nose to yours, his eyes still feverish, his body still smelling of iron and ash and smoke.

"On one condition," he pressed, authoritative as his cockhead pressed deeper against your stinging resistance, breaking past thin membrane, gripping your thigh up to his hip as you trembled, biting your lip, tears in your eyes as you nodded-- anything, you thought, anything.

"Marry me," he whispered against your lips, and you squeaked as you felt a twang of pain, his cock suddenly nestled deeply inside you. Kento rocked his hips gently, shushing you, soothing you, his thumb stroking your palm. Not moving, just holding you as you adjusted to feeling so full, Kento waited for an answer.

"Y--yes...yes," you mewled, and Kento growled his approval against your neck, slowly pulling out of you before rutting back into your wet, tender pussy again, so intimate and deep that you cried out for him.

Kento rolled his hips, like a boat on the waves, whispering into you, certain he wouldn't last long; "First-- I'll cum inside you-- then I'll treat you like a queen...haaah...for the rest of my days."

You clung to Kento, lost in the ecstasy of him plowing into you, delighted by his rumbling groans in your ears, blissfully proud of being able to make such an unflappable man fall apart inside you. When his grip on your hip faltered, his shaking hand dropping to stroke quick little circles around your clit, Kento growled and bit into your neck to feel you rock your hips upwards to meet his own.

The sting almost completely eased, you felt quick pangs of pleasure, rising with every beat of your fast little heart, completely carried along by the eroticism of Kento's frantic groans and mumbles into your ear.

"My love I-- you feel so good...so good...god, I need to cum, need you to cum I-- aahhhh, fuck--" Kento felt your pussy clench around him, and he came inside you as you drank down his moans, fascinated by how they matched up with the bounding twitch of his cock, how his hips juddered into you involuntarily, how his face contorted, jaw clenched, somewhere between rage and serenity.

You were famished, starved of him, immediately desperate for more, and you felt him crumple into you, caging you in, shoulders heaving and spent. Kento chuckled as you peppered him with kisses, gripping your thighs round him and rolling him over so you lay above him, straddling him as his cock softened within you.

With his chin on his chest to look down to you, and a lazy lopsided smile across his face, Kento played idly with your hair, stroking your nose, your cheeks. He proudly fingered the beautiful necklace, resting against your breasts, squashed and plush against him.

"You meant it?" He asked, eager, concerned.

You hummed in delight, pressing a tender kiss to his chest as you nodded; "You had me at 'hello'."

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Would the anon who requested Blacksmith!Kento PLEASE STAND UP so I can credit you for breaking my brain.

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venusstorm · 10 months

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𝘽𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙨

The time in which you gifted Bucky Barnes an adorable little keychain for his motorcycle.

ෆ Warnings: 18+ – MINORS DNI, fluff, insecurity, Bucky can’t stop lifting you up

ෆ Bucky Barnes x Reader

ෆ w/c: 1.2k

̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟

"Isn't this yours, honeybee?" Bucky questions, dangling the bright yellow bumblebee with a pastel pink heart in his hand. He inspects it carefully, turning it around before offering it back to you.

You shake your head, "It was, yea...but..."

Bucky stares at you expectantly and suddenly the entire idea sounded foolish. You couldn't help but envision him laughing at you, snorting at how ridiculous he'd look flying down the highway with your dumb keychain flapping in the wind. It'd stick out like a sore thumb against his jet-black bike, the rev of his engine alone probably sending the poor bee soaring into the clouds.

"I put it in there by accident," you laugh nervously, reaching out for the tiny bee. But his hands clenched tightly around the keychain before you could grab it.

Almost tauntingly he lets it hang in front of your face, staring at you with a half smile.

"On accident?" He hums. "So the keychain that's been on your backpack since the day I met you just somehow found its way into my birthday present?"

You shrug. "I took it off and must've misplaced it."

His eyes glimmer with question but instead of pushing further, he lets it go. He shrugs, "Okay."

Your face falls as he hands the keychain back to you. You squeeze the poor ball of fluff, trying your best not to belittle yourself for being so nervous.

It's for the best, you told yourself. I'm sure he doesn't want some weird form of "staking claim" on his bike. His buddies would make fun of him for it anyway. It's better if it stays with me. Yea. Better.

Hurriedly you try to direct your attention away from your thoughts, shoving the keychain into your pocket.

Your solemn expression brightens into excitement. "I have another surprise!"

You take Bucky's hand, leading him towards your living room which noticeably had a different ambiance than usual. He happily trails behind you, watching your joyous face with adoration.

Every time he's with you his brain goes fuzzy. You allow him to decompress, relax, and think about nothing besides the moment he's in. He craves getting off of work and coming straight to your apartment, still sweaty and dirty from working at the bar, and yet you run up and give him the biggest hug. "Hang on, let me take a shower, honeybee." But you'd ignore him, smashing your lips against his until he gives up rationalizing and allows you to strip him bare.

"I know it's kind of corny and if you'd rather go out and celebrate I completely understand. I just thought this would..."

He can't focus on your words. Not as he's looking at what you had done. Candles lit around the room, the whole place smelling of warm vanilla and cinnamon. Fairy lights twinkled around the ceiling, draping over the windows. The coffee table has been shoved to the side and in its place is a bundle of blankets and floor pillows. Balloons and streamers are scattered across the room, and finally, he zones in on the blue and white cake.

"Happy Birthday James!" it reads. He could tell that you made it because of the bright red heart dotting the i.

He whispers your name in pure disbelief.

"Yes?" You stare up at him with admiration. You truly love this man and want to do everything in your power to show it.

"C'mere, baby." Bucky scoops you up into a hug, hiking you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist. He holds you close against his chest, kissing you sweetly. "You did all this for me?"

You nod, eyes wide as he stares at your lips. A look of pure hunger ravishes you. Bucky presses his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He couldn't recall a time before you when his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. Nor a time when his eyes became so glazed over with pure adoration that he swore he'd cry right then and there. He was hesitant about this future, the new world that he found himself forced to live in. But the moment he saw your sweet smile for the first time, all that faded away.

"Thank you, Princess." You whimper as he whispers into your ear, his hands traveling up the Henley that you stole from his drawer. He didn't mind you stealing his clothes. The first time he caught you he handed you a pile of his shirts, begging you to take them and wear them as your own.

He kisses your shoulder softly. "Thank you for being here for me."

"For taking the time to know me and care for me."

His lips press against your neck, a soft groan rumbling within his throat. "I still remember the day we met...felt like the universe was finally giving me my happy ending."

You state his name breathlessly. "I'm supposed to be celebrating you, not the other way around."

He ignores your remark, his eyes narrowing as his brain begins to churn. "Do you trust me, sweetheart?"

You respond without hesitation. "With everything."

"And you'll always tell me the truth, right?"

You nod reassuringly.

He releases his grip on your legs, setting you back onto the ground. "So tell me what this is about." His hand shoots into your pocket, pulling out the black and yellow bee. He squeezes it in his hand before laying it out in his palm.

"I told you–"

He raises an eyebrow, "The truth."

You didn't want to come off as too clingy and you didn't want to hear Bucky reject your gift. Thank you baby but...it's a little childish. You could hear the words flowing from his lips perfectly. He'd hate it.

"I–"

Bucky pulls you closer. His eyes flooded with warmth. "Please."

"It was for your bike," you whisper. "And before you say anything. I know it's dumb...that's why I took it back."

"My bike?"

You nod wordlessly. "I thought it'd be cute if you had a little piece of me wherever you go. But the more I thought about it the more I realized how stupid it'd probably look. I mean...none of the other guys have–"

Bucky cuts you off, lifting you off the ground and back into his arms. "Oh, baby...is this what you were hiding?"

You nod sheepishly. "It's stupid."

He shakes his head. "It's perfect. You're perfect. M'gonna tie this onto it right now, honeybee. The guys are going to be so fucking jealous when they see what you got me."

Your lips broaden into a smile. "Really?"

Bucky hugs you tightly, his hand caressing your head against his shoulder. "Gotta let the whole world know I've got the most thoughtful, gorgeous person by my side. M'never taking it off, baby. It goes where I go now."

You squeal as he races into the garage with you in his arms, flicking the lights on and heading towards his bike. He sets you down gently, making a show of the keychain in his hand before attaching it to his key ring. Happily, he throws his leg over the bike, twisting the ignition. The bike roars to life and the sight of your bright yellow bee against the black exterior makes you burst out into laughter.

Bucky grins. "See? It's perfect, baby. Told you."

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fics #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes gifs #biker!bucky #biker bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #soft!bucky #honeybee x Bucky

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churipu · 1 month

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SURPRISE COOKIES FOR MAMA 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. nanami kento x female! reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. both of you have a three year old daughter, broken conversations from your daughter bcs she's a kiddo, i'm leaving all of you to name your daughter.

note. midterm week, i'm going to try uploading, but if i don't, just know that it's not me ignoring my wips or you. love you all mwah <33

"this me!" (daughter) pointed at an old picture of . . . a young you with a blue thin strap floral sun dress posing cutely in front of the camera — a big smile on your face, showing off your pearly whites, "i pretty."

nanami who had his back leaning on the couch could only muster out a soft chuckle, he had his hand on the young girl's small waist to hold her up right; preventing a tumble or two, "that's mama. she looks lovely, doesn't she?"

(daughter) craned her head up to face nanami, her e/c doe eyes blinking, ears unbelieving that the portrait was her mother, "mama? no, this me! i so pretty," she pointed her chubby finger towards the portrait, which is undeniably almost as big as she is.

"mhm, that's mama," nanami caressed his daughter's head lovingly, "you do look a lot like mama, you know?" he whispers, eyeing the portrait (daughter) had laying on her small lap.

half a decade ago — nanami told himself that he isn't fit to be a family man; he swore the both of you talked about kids, and how you'd both wait at least until later on into the marriage. but (daughter) was a surprise pregnancy, and the best thing that has ever happened to the both of you.

"this no mama, this me papa," (daughter) pouts, her soft lips puckering out slightly.

nanami used his free hand to flip the photo album, showing a picture of (daughter) as a newborn. a pink colored bandana around her small head, eyes shut in content, "this is you the day you were born," he cooed out, letting his daughter take in the picture.

what a bundle of joy she is. nanami remembered every second he spent inside the delivery room by your side — letting you dig your fingers inside his flesh, because he knew the pain that you were going through at that moment couldn't compare to anything else that he was feeling. all he cared about was you and his daughter.

"this me?" (daughter)'s meek voice resounds. nanami nodded, eyes gazing into his daughter's doe ones, "i so pretty."

nanami smiled warmly, "yes, you are pretty, just like mama," he compliments; pinching her chubby cheeks gently, "it still surprises me how you're an exact copy of your mama . . ." he pats her head, his palm engulfing her whole head.

(daughter) nods her head vigorously, "mama and me twins!" she cheers happily, kicking her feet.

the male chuckles, "mhm, twins," he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up — standing as he puts the picture album on top of the coffee table that sat in the middle of your living room, "mama's coming home soon."

"we take cookies out of cooler, papa," (daughter) pats her father's cheeks gently before wrapping an arm around his neck to hook herself close to nanami, "warm for mama."

nanami vaguely remembered the day he passed by a baking class near his office. where he first saw you, holding onto a young boy's hand — no younger than six years of age, guiding him to whisk what seemed to be cake batter. he stood out of the glass pane, staring into the class for at least the next three minutes out of his twenty-four hours just to look at you.

he thought you looked pretty (and the display cake looked pretty as well, but that was besides the point).

but he never saw you again until three months later at the same place, and you noticed him. surprising. considering he was staring yet again for the second time. but he didn't think that you'd go out your way to talk to him right at that moment — and he was thankful you did.

"mhm, we're going to warm it up for mama," with ease, nanami opened the cooler and grabbed a plate of messily made classic chocolate chip cookies wrapped with saran wrap. (daughter) contributed to most of the procedure, and nanami thought it was the third most beautiful thing besides you and her. he's a proud dad.

the process of warming the cold cookies was short — with (daughter) prepped on top of the counter, with nanami's arms right by her sides. the two of them smiling at each other in silence, waiting for the oven to let out the satisfying 'ding!', hopefully before you came through the door.

unfortunately, things don't always go the way he wanted. and there you were, with your usual (color) coat slung over your arm, heaving out an exhausted sigh, mumbling out a soft, "i'm home."

(daughter)'s head turn to face the door, eyes widening in panic as she then faced nanami, "mama home, papa," she whispers, covering her mouth to hold back a loud giggle.

nanami nuzzled his nose into hers, "want to go hide from mama?"

the young girl nods her head, almost immediately wrapping her arms around her father's neck, "go go go, papa, hide, hide!" she whispers, giggling as she fit her small face into the crook of nanami's neck.

nanami laid a hand behind his daughter's head, he passed by you who had just walked through the short hall leading towards the living room, sending out a slight signal through his eyes as he walks into (daughter)'s sage colored room. he laid the young girl down onto the rugged floor, "go go, hide from mama."

the girl wasted no time scurrying under her bed, giggling softly. on the other hand, nanami walked out of her room with a small smile, approaching you.

"something smells good," you greet the male, opening your arms for a hug. i mean — what else do you need after a long day of work besides a warm hug from your husband?

nanami's arms felt like a blanket engulfing your body, he buckled his knees slightly to press a short kiss on your lips, "(daughter) has your baking abilities, 'm not surprised. good day at work?"

you nod, "tiring day, a boy spilt heavy cream all over the floor and his mother blamed us for it," nanami's face hardened a bit after hearing your story, "she practically went on a cursing spree in front of the kids, the cops had to restrain her."

the male grazed his finger on your cheek, "i'm sorry about that, she didn't hurt you, did she?"

you shook your head, "no worries, where's my baby, hm?"

nanami pinched your nape gently, "she wanted to surprise you with her cookies, she's in her room hiding. go see her and i'll be there with the cookies, yes?"

"you're too nice to me," you jokingly said.

"just to you," he rolled his eyes, brushing his lips over the hollow of your nose, "go, go. she's waiting for you."

you pulled yourself away from his embrace, putting your coat on top of the kitchen's counter before sauntering over to (daughter)'s room, knocking on her door. which resulted in an indubitable string of laughter from your own blood and flesh from under the bed, "baby? where're you?"

her soft and hushed giggles didn't stop when you step inside her room, "are you . . ." you pretended to open the closet, "here!"

and (daughter) stifled back a laugh when you failed to find her. and the next attempt, you squat down to eye under the bed, "there you are," her loud laughs finally chimed out, "give mama a hug, please?"

the young carbon copy of you crawled out from under the bed, immediately rushing to your lap to give you a warm hug, "i miss mama . . ." she pressed a kiss to your cheek, "mama miss me?"

you cradled her body back and forth, "mama misses you so much."

"i have surprise for mama," (daughter) abruptly pulled back from the hug, "surprise cookies for mama!"

the scent of chocolate entered your nostrils as nanami walked inside the room with a plate of freshly warmed chocolate chip cookies, "it's not a surprise anymore when you tell mama about it, isn't it?" he asks with a slight chuckle.

"'ts okay, mama still surprised. i bake cookies with papa," (daughter)'s eyes twinkled with happiness when nanami laid the plate down on the floor, "i bake cookies like mama. try try mama!"

and so you did, "'ts so yummy, good job, baby!"

nanami tugged on your arm towards him, slithering an arm around your waist, "'f course she did, you're her mama, y'know?" the male leaned in to place a short kiss to the tip of your nose.

(daughter) shrieks out, "papa cooties!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #female reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento oneshot #nanami oneshot

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monarchberrysblog · 1 month

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𝔡𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔦𝔱

+18 Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: I fantasize about it all the time; if you were mine, I’d give this pussy to you nine to five by tonight.

You never wanted to go to work; you just wanted to get to work. After Miguel gets a haircut and gets something new, you decide to test it to see if you can still get a good grip.

Trigger Warnings ⚠️: switch!Miguel (duh), a bit of praise (from Miguel), size kink, cunnilingus (f! receiving), humping, Miguel breaks a couch 😏, breeding kink towards the end, unprotected p in v sex, and wrap it before you tap it. (OOC MIGUEL) if I missed any, let me know!

Word Count: +1.6k words

Author’s Note: Hi, hi, hi! I am somewhat notoriously bad at writing smut, but here we are! I want to improve on it and give you all a well-cooked meal, which is switch! Miguel. (I think the man is a submissive; this is my headcanon that I believe in.)

To my girlies who love submissive men who have the prettiest moans and groans 💌

Miguel didn't want to admit it but damn it, he loves it when you ride him. The way your legs trembled, the way you slammed your weight down into him, feeling his bulbous tip getting bullied into your cervix. The man loved it when you took control.

He loves it when he holds you; you are light, but the moment you're on top? The man caves in and begs for more.

This unlocked something in him by simply trying something new on a lazy, rainy Thursday evening…

“The barber did well with your hair…” You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling how soft it was under the pads of your fingers. “Why the taper fade?” You adjusted yourself on the couch where the two of you cuddled and shared a blanket. “It just became a nuisance to deal with after a while. So why not? Something new.”

As you spoke, you could feel a sense of longing. "Imma miss it; I'm not gonna have any leverage to grab when you're eating me—" You expressed, but suddenly stopped when you realized he was staring at you intensely. You could feel his gaze piercing your soul, focusing mainly on your eyes. Feeling embarrassed, you cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted your attention to the TV, which was playing softly in the background. “Sorry.”

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly and focused on the dramatic telenovela on the TV screen. "You never really were the type to grab onto my hair," he admitted. "You always seemed to prefer grabbing onto a pillow, or sometimes a blanket, maybe even your shirt, but that's about it." You lifted your head from his chest, surprised at how observant he was. "How on earth do you know that?" you asked incredulously, a tone that sounded forced. "I just do," he replied confidently. "I can tell you that you tend to whine a lot before you finish."

“Please, I don't whine when I come.” You scoffed before you covered yourself with the soft blanket you two shared.

“Yeah, you do, cariño.”

“Don't push it.”

You rolled your eyes back in ecstasy, feeling the wet muscle against your entrance, lightly giving it kitten licks, making it a point to flick at your clit. The man lapped at your juices and slurped up the clear arousal like it was the final meal of his life. Your hands grasp onto his hair, grinding your clit against his nose, moving your hips down towards the top of his nose.

“You're so cute, even with that little clit waiting to get suckled on…” You felt him grab your hips, and his thumb ghosted against the bundle of nerves, immediately feeling something slip out of your entrance. He pulled away from your warm and wet entrance and slipped his ring finger in, feeling your gummy walls flutter at the sensation.

“There you go, you're doing perfect. Take deep breaths.” He hummed, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Spit on it…” You demanded, squirming your hips. “Not just yet, cariño.” He shushed you, pulling his fingers out and licking the clear arousal off. His tongue lightly probed at your fluttering hole a bit and slowly pulled away. The way your walls contracted, begging to be filled with his length, was enough for the man wanting to cave in.

“We’re going to do something different, cariño.” He breathed to you before he managed to toss you around on the couch, eventually with you on top and him below you. “Come on, put yourself to work.” He demands, feeling your soft, wet pussy against his aching cock.

Reaching down, your hand finally found his length, and you felt yourself playing with it more than anything. You tapped the tip against your entrance, excited to sink into his girth. “No, no, I don't think you understand. I don't want it to be inside just yet.” He pauses for a moment before he moved his hips away from your needy, wet entrance.

“I want you to grind on it.” He breathes out.

You hesitate before you let his cock go, allowing his length to land against his happy trail and lower stomach. Adjusting yourself and placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly moved your aching core up and down his cock, feeling your clit get the right amount of friction. A quiet moan escapes your lips while the veins down his cock rub against the pearl of nerves. “There you go, cariño…” Miguel groaned out, feeling your arousal coat against his aching length.

“Put your whole weight down; none of this squatting bullcrap.” He grabs you by the hips and pushes you down; you feel his dick in between your folds, causing a gasp to escape. Before even having the time to get yourself comfortable, the hold he had on your waist while he moved you up and down against his length felt as if you were withering under his control. A familiar, warm, tight sensation builds up in your lower stomach before you erupt out a loud, whimpering moan.

“Does that feel good? Do you like that?” He heaves, still guiding you closer and closer to your orgasm. The way you trembled and made a whimpering sound was an indicator for Miguel. “All you gotta do is feel good for me, understand?” You nod, dumbed down by the arousal. The tension was almost palpable and thin, like a threading needle waiting to be snipped off by the sisters of faith with their sharp scissors.

“Aww, you can't speak? Is my girl getting dumbed down by grinding herself on my cock? Qué sucia. Dímelo, ya lo quieres?” His words sounded like venom—sweet but intoxicating venom escaping from his tongue and lips. The only response from you was a moan while you moved your hips after Miguel seized his movements. “¿Lo quieres?” He groans out, feeling his cock lubricated by your arousal.

“¿Quién te hace sentir bien? Dímelo fuerte, cariño. Quién.” He seizes your movements, not letting you reach your first high for the night. “You…” You breathed out. “Fuck, damn right you are…” Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, creating little crescent indents on his skin, but the man didn't care.

Slowly, Miguel sat up from where he lay down and decided to help his girl. “Here…” His hand reached down to his length, with his fingers holding onto the base of his cock. “Spit on it.” You demanded once again. “Eager, aren't we?” He mused before he spat down, and you felt it land on your clit, causing him to rub his thumb against it slowly, allowing your clit to be doused in his spit.

“C’mon, ride me. Ride me the way I like it.” You felt him tap his now-doused tip against your entrance before you grind yourself into his length, earning a moan for the both of you. “Jesus, your so fucking tight and small.” He groaned out. “Are you trying to make me come—” You felt your knees immediately regret the position, knowing that you're going to be the one to do a lot of cardio for this overstimulated man.

While bouncing on his cock, you felt his grip on your hips tighten, almost as if you were going to slip away from him. “There you go…” Miguel heaves out, soon pulling you into an embrace. “Let me fuck it in you, stay still…” He breathes before you slow your movements down to a halt.

The sound of skin slapping and your loud moans crescendo filled the living room space while being held onto a tight embrace and feeling his cock pumping inside you. Your whimpering cries became more noticeable as your cries went in sync with his harsh thrust. “More…” You whined out, feeling your fingernails dig into his skin; the fast-paced thrusts soon turned sloppy, with his cock sliding out of you every once in a while. “You're killing me, neña…” Miguel groans quietly, keeping up with the rapid, uneven pace, creating a wet, slapping noise.

“C’mon, let's finish together, make me proud.” Tears began to form, and some rolled down your cheeks while you kept up with the overstimulation and with how his tip aggressively bullied at your cervix. “More…” You demanded, moving in sync with his harsh thrusts.

As you were getting your guts rearranged on the couch by Miguel, you couldn't help but notice the creaking sounds coming from underneath the both of you. It seemed to be getting louder by the minute as if the old piece of furniture couldn't bear the weight of two people anymore. Just then, a sharp crack echoed through the room, causing you to jolt and lose your balance. Miguel, however, seemed unfazed by the noise and rolled his eyes as if he was used to it. He continued to keep up with the rapid movements, brushing his happy trail against your lower stomach. “I'll get a new couch soon…” You wanted to laugh at how nonchalant he was being bit the only sounds you can produce is a loud, needy moan instead.

The sounds of whimpers, moans, and cries were palpable; knowing that the two of you would get a noise complaint from neighbors, you didn't care. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, feeling your climax slowly building up. Clear liquid gushes out, while a loud moan is the last sound you can produce deep into your chest. “Please let me breed you, fuck, I'm gonna breed you, cariño.” He pants to you, thrusting his cock into you, earning another orgasm from you and a splash zone on the already collapsed couch. “You feel so good…”

The way you felt him twitch inside you, along with his rapid rhythm slowly coming to an end. The pullout was swift, with some of Miguel’s remnants seeping out of your fluttering hole. “Good girl…” He rubbed his hand on your hip lovingly, seeing his semen oozing out and onto the fabric of the couch. A kiss to your lips brought you back to your senses as you happily returned the kiss and calmed down from your high.

“The couch…”

“I needed a new one anyways.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel smut #smut

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dustofthedailylife · 9 months

Text

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you.

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink.

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them.

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through.

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show.

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day.

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first.

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation.

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were.

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #gepard x reader #welt x reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 hsr

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diejager · 4 months

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Oh my god imagine step-father König having to go with reader's mom to the airport (lets say it takes 2 hours)and dbf!Horangi coming to take care of her, but when he enters he sees her trying to get food and sneak in her room and lock the door or smth and he catches her lays her on the dinner table and starts eating her out till he overstims her ,but suddenly she feels smth strange and tries to push him away, he does not move and as a result she squirts for the first time. She is so embarasses poor thing but horangi is just so proud cause she did it for him the first time in her life ❤️ as a bonus how would könig react to seeing that scene coming home in that exact moment or when horangi brags?

Cw: DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, oral sex(fem!receiving), overstimulation, squirting, tell me if I missed any.

You cursed yourself for being too slow to exact your plan, holding a few bags of snacks and little sweets before locking yourself in your room, planning your day away from Horangi - who you mother made him promise to watch over her adult daughter - and your stepdad until you had to leave, but he’d suddenly grabbed you from the back of your shirt, shocking you enough for you to drop your bags in fright. He manhandled you to the kitchen table, a wide and cold surface against your warm skin, ripping your shorts in half and burying his face between your thighs.

You squirmed as much as you came, coating his face in slick and squeezing him with your trembling legs. His hot tongue pressed down on your throbbing clit, running the smoothness of the flat of his tongue over your nub, lifting the hood of your clit up and subjugating it to more pleasurable torture. Then he swirled the tip around your nub after holding the hood up with his thumb, holding you down while you jerked and twitched beneath his mouth. You cried out of oversensitivity, your bundle of nerve touched incessantly by Horangi’s tongue, feet kicking out and occasionally hitting his back.

Something gathered in your core, heavy and violent, it felt unbearable to you, an extremely tight knot coiled around another knot. It only amassed in potency, his lips wrapped snugly around your pulsing clit and he sucked, sucked hard while he filled you with his fingers. You came with a burst of light, your walls closing around his intruding fingers, pumping in and out of you at a lazy pace, curling upwards in effort to hit the inner parts of your clit. You soaked him with cum, body buzzing with energy, still riding out your orgasm with the gentle swirl of his tongue and a firm kiss on your thigh. You tiredly raised your head to peer at him, gazing down to brown eyes through a blurred and tearful sight.

Even in your numbed mind, you could see how drenched he was, His nose and cheek glistened with your slick, lips hidden by your soft mound that were to busy drinking up the cum dripping out of your hole. His eyes blazed with overwhelming passion - sacrilegious - as he gazed at you with unblinking eyes, drowning himself in the sight of your debauched figure, breasts rising with every laboured breathe you took, pebbled nipples from the colder air and skin layered with sweat. You were clueless about what happened, why you felt so sluggish yet so powered, but Horangi seemed to know seeing his proud and overjoyed smile.

“Was this your first?” He grumbled out, voice thick with something as he kissed your inner thigh.

“First what?” Your reply was slow —lethargic, in the face of his excitement. “I don’t-“

“Fuck, you’ve never squirt?” He brimmed with mirth, a dangerous amount of elation that made you feel trapped, unable to do anything but take what he decided to give.

How could you even defend yourself against someone so tall and practiced? You couldn’t even stop him from diving back in, his black eyes bright and gleeful.

“Was?” König sounded shocked from the tone of his voice, the higher pitch compared to Horangi’s softer voice, mumbling something to him once he stepped through the entrance of your house, “You made her squirt?”

Fuck, you caught the same eagerness in his tone.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

Note

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place.

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts.

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay.

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle...

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages.

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue.

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox.

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots.

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom.

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger.

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious.

Why would you say that?

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion.

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass.

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you.

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile.

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur?

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you.

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts.

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly.

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you.

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.”

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears?

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat.

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to…

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels.

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats.

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use.

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want.

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man.

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone.

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out.

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand.

He wants you to guide him to his father.

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens.

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you.

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is.

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh.

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out.

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely.

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory.

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand.

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission.

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm.

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be.

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.”

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick.

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.”

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #konig x reader #könig #könig cod #konig x you #cod konig

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bimbobaggins69 · 3 months

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𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈

Eddie is being driven up the fucking wall and he’s at his wits end. He can’t take it anymore, not when you’re prancing around the apartment with a tiny, see through, white nightie. The material is so thin he can see your nipples and the way they’re peaked, right through the fabric. It’s like you’re doing it to be cruel, although Eddie knows this is your everyday usual sleep attire, he just wishes for the sake of his newly pierced cock that you wouldn’t do all the things that turn him on so fiercely, which is quite literally just you being yourself. He couldn’t help that he thought the mundane shit you did; like the way you slurped up your spaghetti or flipped through the television channels, was so effortlessly sexy. But he’s aching for your touch, so when his good friend/piercer Nate gave him the go ahead to masturbate, he concocted a devious little plan, one that would involve you and him getting off, together.

So that’s how you found yourself laid back on your shared bed, legs spread wide as you plunge your fingers deep inside your creamy cunt, wet squelches reverberate off the walls making Eddie groan as he watches you at the foot of the bed. His hard, leaking cock in his hand; pumping up and down to the image of you pleasuring yourself so beautifully for him. The glint of the jewelry catches your eye, finding Eddie’s big brown orbs before trailing down his tattooed and pierced body, taking in the image of his newest piercing and how you couldn’t wait to see what it felt like buried deep inside your walls, hitting your spot until you eventually squirted all over Eddie and the mattress. That image has you immediately clenching around your fingers and biting your lip as you stave off yet another orgasm, edging yourself to near painful levels.

Eddie immediately gets a better idea and crawls up the bed, now hovering above you as his hair forms a perfect curtain, secluding you both off from everything else around. “Fuck, I need to feel some part of you princess.” He confesses as he begins to glide his lube slick cock over the entirety of your slit. The jewelry rubs against your clit so perfectly, your legs begin to tremble and your back arches off the bed in an almost exorcism like fashion. The way the cold, wet metal rubs over your swollen bundle of nerves; ever so gently, has you closer to the finish line quicker than anything ever has before. Everything is so slippery with perfect friction, making your pale pink polished toes curl as you raise them higher in the air. Trying to open yourself as wide as possible, selfishly taking everything you can as your high hits you like a ton of bricks. Body spasming as your walls clench tightly around nothing and your eyes snap shut, stars dancing across your eyelids. Eddie continues rubbing the underside of his cock over your cunt until he’s shooting spurts of his warm, sticky cum all over your stomach; most of it pooling in your belly button. Eddie eagerly slurps it up, then spits it into your awaiting mouth before his soft, sodden lips find yours as you both swap his cum in a greedy, tongue filled kiss.

Part two

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #I know absolutely nothing about the healing process for dick piercings so…#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

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hemmingsleclerc · 4 months

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Little Verstappen ▏Max Verstappen

-Pairing:Dad!MaxVerstappen

-summary: Olivia Verstappen doesn't let her father focus on his post-race interview

The sun had just set on the racetrack, casting a warm glow on the tired faces of the drivers and the bustling pit crew. Max Verstappen, the triumphant winner of the day's race, was in the paddock surrounded by the hum of post-race activity. While journalists clamored for interviews, Max held his RedBull cap in one hand and, to everyone's surprise, cradled his young daughter, Olivia, in the other.

With a wide but tired smile on his face, Max agreed to a quick interview, with his daughter squirming playfully in his arms watching everything curiously. The interviewer, an experienced journalist, adjusted the microphone and began the conversation.

"Max, congratulations on another incredible race. How does it feel to win and be closer to winning your third championship?"

Max's eyes sparkled with joy, but his attention was often stolen by his daughter's mischievous antics, Liv, a bundle of energy, couldn't resist reaching for her father's cap and playing with his face.

"Well, it feels amazing," Max began, his words punctuated by Olivia's giggles. "The team did a fantastic job and the car was just perfect. It's always special to win, but having Liv here with me makes it even greater."

Olivia, not content with just the cap, began pulling on Max's ear, causing laughter from the crowd around her. Max, unfazed, continued answering questions while deftly avoiding her tiny fingers.

The interviewer chuckled: "Speaking of Olivia, what does she think when she sees her father win the race?"

''I don't know'' said Max ''Liv? What do you think?' he asked his daughter in his arms.

The little girl, realizing that the attention was now on her, felt her little cheeks heat up and hid her face in her father's neck, causing the elders to laugh.

"Well, it looks like we'll never know," Max said with a laugh as he rubbed his daughter's back. But the girl quickly turns around and says "My papa is the best driver in the whole world!" with a big smile on her face.

Max smiled at his daughter, who was now trying to put the cap on her own head. "She's amazing. She's my good luck charm and having her here makes everything that much more special. It's hard to describe the feeling of hugging her after a race. She's my biggest fan along with my wife, and I hope one day she understands what her father does."

As Max spoke, Olivia successfully donned the oversized cap, her eyes peeking out from beneath the brim. Max couldn't help but laugh, causing the crowd to join in the merriment.

The interview continued, a delightful mix of racing ideas and adorable interruptions. Liv, tired of the cap, now focused on her father's nose, causing more laughter from the viewers. Ever the professional, Max seamlessly integrated fatherhood and racing in a way that endeared him even more to fans.

At the conclusion of the interview, Max Verstappen lifted his daughter aloft, with the RedBull cap now perched precariously on her head. The image of the champion driver, crowned by his smiling daughter, became a trend on the Internet and was engraved in the hearts of fans around the world.

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flseur · 4 months

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꒰ 𐙚 warmth — satoru gojo ꒱

⟡ synopsis : with each new year spent together, satoru just can't help but fall in love with the warmth you give him.

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, fluff to smut, cursing, doggy, little bit of rough sex, praising, little bit of overstimulation, gojo cums inside !

౨ৎ note : an intimate new year’s eve with spent with satoru, isn’t he just so dreamy ? love my king

if there was one thing satoru gojo could always truthfully say, it was irrevocably in love with you. he adores everything about you, down to the simplest of mannerisms that you have.

the way you do your hair, smooth out your clothes, make your morning tea, just every little thing that you do he adores.

satoru wouldn’t utter any of this outloud to suguru and shoko out of fear of embarrassment, but the two are able to see through his facade.

the way that he talks about you, brags about you and even the way he completely ignores any attention that he draws in from people when he goes out in public.

you’d think that due to his past of being a player, he’d enjoy the attention he gets but no. he’s absolutely smitten for you, and you only.

though he does make cheeky jokes about how lucky you are to have him, but he knows it’s the opposite. he’s lucky to have you.

and here you both are now, out on an evening walk during the winter. you’re bundled up because satoru insisted, mumbling about how he didn’t want to take care of you if you caught a cold while he wrapped you up in a knit scarf.

you’re fiddling with the black wool of the scarf with your left hand while your right is preoccupied with holding satoru’s hand.

“i still don’t understand why you forced me to wear this,” you mumbled before glancing over at him. “it’s not that cold out tonight. i would’ve been fine with just my jacket.”

satoru rolled his eyes and let out a little sigh, “i did tell you why, y/n. you just chose not to listen to me.”

“well, what was your reasoning?” you said.

“i said it was because if you caught a cold, then it would be up to me to take care of you.”

you let out a huff of annoyance, the warmth of your breath making a little foggy cloud in the cold weather. “you wouldn’t have to take care of me, satoru. i’m a grown adult. i can take care of myself, y’know?”

“i know that i don’t have to, but i would want do it,” he squeezes your hand. “because i know that you’d do the same for me.”

satoru thinks back to all the times when you’d take care of him, both before and during your relationship.

having to deal with him during late nights when he would show up to your apartment drunk or the one time he came down with the flu.

you stayed with him until he was completely better, refusing to leave every time he said it was okay for you to go back home and that he’d be fine by himself.

but you knew he wouldn’t.

you knew that he’d still be shriveled up in a ball on his bed, wrapped in blankets and not get up to eat a real meal.

you knew that he would live off of instant ramen and energy drinks and you didn’t want that to happen, so you stayed.

and now, satoru wants to be that person for you.

he wants to be able to stay by your side when you’re sick (though he’d very much rather you not get sick, so he goes through all measures to prevent that) and he wants to be there for you.

he wants to take care of you just like how you took care of him all those times before.

you let out a laugh, one that satoru was addicted to hearing.

“you’re so cute, ‘toru. i like it when you talk about caring for me.” you give him a warm smile.

he gives you a light bump on the shoulder with his own, before trying to hide his own smile in his jacket.

“uh, hello? aren’t i supposed to care about you? you can’t even let me be the world’s best boyfriend in peace, can you?” he jokes in an attempt to hide that he’s flustered.

his cheeks flush a brighter pink and you know it’s not from the cold weather.

you laugh more at your boyfriend’s embarrassment. “you should be glad that geto and shoko aren’t here to listen to you! they'd get to see your soft side!”

gojo dramatically sighs, before lifting your right hand and presses a soft kiss to it.

“you’re unbearable…” he mutters against your skin, then letting your hands reassume back to they originally were. “let’s head back to the apartment, it's way too cold out…”

"''kay, are you gonna warm me up, 'toru?" you tease, entirely not expecting him to take the joke seriously.

"you'll see, princess."

and it's private moments like these that you enjoy with him the most. whether it be taking a walk while it snows or having your limbs be tangled in the sheets with his own.

"o-oh, shit, satoru..." you moan out, burying your face deeper into the mattress.

he had you on all fours with your ass up in the air while his thick cock was pistoning into you at an unrelenting pace.

his had one hand gripping at the fat of your hip, the blunt tip of his nails digging almost painfully into the skin, while the lithe fingers of his other danced up the beautiful arch of your back.

"feels good, baby?" he groans, biting his lips.

"yesss, feels s'good!" your words slur, your mind is invaded by the thoughts of satoru.

the feeling of your tight pussy constricting his cock is driving crazy. each snap of his hips delivers overwhelming amounts of pleasure and elicits your cries.

the scent of sex, the sound of skin against skin, and the conjoined moans shared between the two of you permeate your bedroom. every thrust of satoru's is accentuated, calculated, and deep, so deep that you swore you felt him in your stomach.

"so deep, oh m'god..." you mewl, fucking your hips back onto him. you were desperate for more, you needed that one thing to push you over the edge, to finally feel bliss.

reading your body language, as well as hearing your whimpers, satoru pulls completely out of your sopping heat, the tip of his cock resting right outside of your pussy.

you were about to ask him what he was doing before you yelp in surprise, feeling him abruptly shove his entire length back inside of you.

"fuck! love you so much, sweetheart. love this pussy so much..." he babbles, continuing to fuck into you so quickly that his balls slap up against your clit.

"i-i'm g'nna cum... just like that satoru..." you wail, cunt squeezing his length impossibly tighter.

"yeah? cum all over my cock, princess. make a fucking mess." gojo growls, reaching around your waist to pull you up, your back pressed against his chest.

he presses open mouth kisses to your neck, moaning against the skin, while one hand pinches at your nipple and the other one slithers down to your pussy and plays with your puffy clit.

satoru, satoru, satoru is all you could think about as you orgasmed. your arousal coated his cock and your inner thighs as your vision blurred white and ears rang.

and though he didn't want to push you too far, satoru couldn't help but indulge himself in your heat for a bit longer.

"'m almost there, baby... did so good for me." he moans, kissing your temple as you moan out. crystalline tears line your eyes due to overstimulation, he felt so fucking good, too good almost.

you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and his hips stutter against your ass. "cum inside... please 'toru, need you inside..." you whine.

"oh, fuck!" satoru cried out, placing his forehead against your forehead and his hips finally stilling as he stuffed your pussy full of his cum.

"love you s'much..." you whisper, your hands coming up to brush his white strands of hair.

"i love you too..." he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.

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