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jujutsubaby · 1 month

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⛓️ lonely at the top ⛓️

☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader x true form!sukuna ☆ summary: you are the great ryomen sukuna's favorite healer from the heian era, reincarnated in the modern time. for centuries, you have also been his favorite lover. but when sukuna returns one day with a shockingly handsome blue-eyed sorcerer, you cannot help but feel threatened. no matter what sukuna's plans are for this newcomer, however, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top. ☆ tags: slight canon divergence, smut with a lil plot ¬‿¬ ☆ warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! handjob, oral sex (m/f!receiving; yes this includes sukuna's abdomen mouth lmao); voyeurism; exhibitionism; fingering; p in v; anal; overstimulation; masturbation ☆ a/n: ok the promised (and voted upon) sukugo fic is FINALLY here my loves :3 i had to add reader in the mix too though bc girls just wanna have fun. also writing this kinda made me a sukuna truther :/ maybe i understand gege and sukuna kaisen just a little bit more now :/ ANYWAY ENJOY!!! ☆ wc: 8k

when you had heard of Lord Sukuna's imminent duel with the infamous Satoru Gojo, you knew it would be prudent to practice your Reverse Cursed Technique. you had always been Lord Sukuna's favorite healer (among other things), but that had been the Heian Era. this new time was as foreign and strange to you as the delicate new body into which you had been reincarnated.

and so, when Lord Sukuna re-enters the compound you share with his other most trusted servants and loudly calls for you, you are prepared. flexing your practiced fingers and preparing to channel positive cursed energy, you hurry to the threshold from which his voice had emanated and immediately sink to a kneeling position, your head turned to the floor. as expected, Lord Sukuna had come straight to the healing quarters.

"you summoned me, Lord Sukuna?"

Lord Sukuna approaches you; his footsteps sound heavy and slow. he is exhausted, you can tell, but he does not seem grievously injured as you had expected. so why did he call for you?

your head still inclined downwards, you stifle a gasp as you notice rivulets of blood darkening the floor beneath you and staining your pristine robes.

"you will heal him," Lord Sukuna says simply. you hear a heavy thud hitting the bed you had prepared so carefully for your lord. actually, mystifyingly, you hear two thuds. you chance a glance upwards, and your heart drops when you see that Lord Sukuna has indeed deposited severed halves of some unfortunate sorcerer's body onto the bed. from his pallor, you can tell he has already lost quite a lot of blood. this is beyond any healing you have ever performed in any era. you briefly wonder whether your beloved lord is setting you up to fail when he speaks up.

"i trust you understand that failure is not an option."

"yes, my lord."

"y/n," he says more quietly. you nearly shudder at the sound of his tongue lavishing attention on your name. "i keep you in my employ because you are the only healer worthy of serving me."

it is a statement of arrogance, but it is also one of reassurance. someone who has served as his trusted servant for as long as you have learns how to understand his sometimes esoteric cues.

you feel a firm hand grip your jaw and tilt your face upwards. you are greeted by a sight you have not seen in centuries: Lord Sukuna in his true form, in all his magnificence. his tattoos stand starkly against his glistening torso. his arms, now four in number as you recall, are corded with muscle; the grip his massive hand has on your face could easily crush your windpipe — and yet, it does not. it never would, so long as you serve your purpose. you cannot help but bask in his glowing charisma. this was the sorcerer you were so proud to serve.

"it is my honor to serve you, my lord. i will heal the sorcerer, i swear it."

noticing your desirous eyes raking over his form, his cruel mouth forms a lazy smirk, which is mirrored in the mouth of his stomach. the effect is equal parts unnerving and disarming.

"come, y/n," Lord Sukuna says, pleased with your reaction to his true form. "let us see your patient for the evening." he seizes your shoulders with his second set of arms, and indelicately pulls you to your feet before marching you towards the bed.

Lord Sukuna must still be unused to inhabiting his true body after possessing so many weak mortal vessels, you muse, for he is being far rougher with you than usual. you find that you do not mind, however. in spite of the grave situation, you feel heat embarrassingly beginning to pool at the apex of your thighs at the feel of Lord Sukuna's thick fingers and their crushing grip on your narrow shoulders.

the man in the bed is muscular, although nowhere close to Lord Sukuna's physique. that said, he looks youthful, and strong enough to have put up a good fight. perhaps he would even be strong enough to recover from his horrendous injuries under your expert healing hands.

but who was this man? why was Lord Sukuna so insistent upon healing him? and how was he injured like this in the first place?

your eyes wander to his upper half, and you pause on his face. handsome, with delicate features and a shock of messy white hair. his eyes are slightly agape, and you note that they are the uncommon blue of a summer sea.

blue?

you gasp in spite of yourself and turn to your master, momentarily forgetting that propriety dictates that you not maintain eye contact with someone so many levels above yourself.

"forgive me, Lord Sukuna, but...Satoru Gojo?"

Lord Sukuna does not seem to mind your lapse in etiquette, as he meets your gaze with a grin.

"he put up a marvelous fight. talent like that should not be extinguished, even though most sorcerers doubtlessly dream of being defeated by somebody like the great Sukuna," he says.

Lord Sukuna was always able to make such grandiose statements about himself that would sound asinine coming from any mere man. with the great Lord Sukuna, statements like these are simply the truth. he has always been so far above any human you have known, which is why his fascination with Satoru Gojo is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. mortal humans, including you, need to know their place. that maxim should include Satoru Gojo, too.

Lord Sukuna's voice shakes you from your reverie. "oh, and y/n?" his normally commanding voice is alarmingly soft, and laced with...something. something typically reserved for his favorites, like you.

"yes, Lord Sukuna?" you ask, carefully keeping your head angled downwards towards the bed so as not to repeat your earlier eye contact gaffe.

you watch as Lord Sukuna reaches a hand out towards Satoru Gojo's listless face to slap the young man's elegant cheek.

"do be gentle with your technique. i want this one staying pretty for me."

ah.

so that was why Lord Sukuna had taken such pains to rescue Satoru Gojo.

with that, Lord Sukuna turns on his heel and leaves you to your patient.

you anticipated healing Gojo's injuries to be your greatest challenge yet, but it is far more taxing than you ever could have known. your Reverse Cursed Technique was meant for healing injuries, but what had happened with Gojo's body was almost beyond an injury.

it had taken you hours in the first place to even figure out a way to use your RCT in this situation, until you had realized that delicate threads of cursed energy still emanated from Gojo's body. even if it was physically severed, his cursed energy still lived, if only barely. it is a testament to the sheer magnitude of Gojo's cursed energy that some still survives; no wonder he had impressed Lord Sukuna so.

you use your RCT to trace the threads of cursed energy from one half of Gojo's body to the other; in doing so, you are able to treat the severing merely as a thinning of cursed energy, and thus as an injury rather than a full separation. you breathe a sigh of relief as you observe one thread of his torso knit itself back together under your watchful eye.

now to repeat the process for the entire circumference of his body. you stretch and sigh; this would be a long night. at least you have a way forward now, though. disappointing Lord Sukuna was never an option.

as you continue reconnecting the flesh and gristle that makes up Satoru Gojo, you find yourself increasingly unable to ignore his objective beauty. as a healer, you always possessed great admiration for the physical form, and Satoru Gojo just happened to be a prime specimen. perhaps the fact that Lord Sukuna had found him to be a worthy adversary (and prize, you remind yourself) also influenced your judgment.

you feel a strange intermingling of lust, jealousy, and envy at the thought. you are well aware that Lord Sukuna has a prodigious sexual appetite that requires countless mortals to satisfy, but you have long been secure in your position as his favorite plaything. now, however, compared to Satoru Gojo, you cannot be so certain; he possesses beauty and power in spades.

you shake your head. this is neither the time nor the place to be evaluating Lord Sukuna’s judgment; favorite or not, it is your duty to complete the task he so graciously entrusted you with. you are not sure of how long you continue to sew Satoru Gojo’s body back together, but you are aware that the sun’s citrus glow has long faded.

Lord Sukuna had always reminded you of the sun, although you have never been bold enough to tell him such a silly romanticism. but in its radiant beauty, burning power, and distance alike, you see your liege. much like the sun, Lord Sukuna had shone on you, and in his light, you had blossomed. you had been an obscure village herbalist’s apprentice until he had found you; you had hardly even been aware of your latent healing powers. it had been Lord Sukuna who had seen your immense potential, and who had honed your sorcery to the level it was today.

even the fact that he had burned down your village the day he whisked you away had done little to dim your fervent gratitude.

the moon begins to rise higher in the night sky now, its light filtering through the shuttered windows of the healing quarters as you continue working. Satoru Gojo’s natural beauty takes on an ethereal glow when bathed in moonlight. the battle between him and Lord Sukuna must have been a sight to behold; as you reconnect his body, you feel his cursed energy growing and twisting into itself with taut strength.

Finally, when his halves become whole again, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The full moon that night meant you did not require a lantern, but the moon is setting now, and you want to give Satoru Gojo’s body a final check.

as you rise to leave the room for a lantern, you feel a hand clasp firmly about your wrist. you gasp softly.

“have i died? am i dead right now?” Satoru Gojo’s voice is hoarse with disuse. you had not expected him to be conscious again yet given the state of him; you suppose the fact that he is is a testament both to your healing ability and to his innate strength.

you sit back down, noticing that he does not loosen his grip on your wrist.

“you are still alive, Satoru Gojo, for i have healed your wounds,” you reply matter of factly.

his blue eyes, now that they are fully open and conscious, are even more shocking than they were when you first glimpsed them earlier that day. they seem to glow from within; they look like they hold full worlds within their depths.

“that’s weird,” Gojo continues. “i could’ve sworn i died and went to heaven seeing as i’m looking at an angel right now.” only when you see that he is grinning impishly at you do you realize he is flirting with you.

your lip curls in distaste, and you extricate your hand from his grasp.

“i am no angel. i am a sorcerer, as you are. you were as good as dead, split clean in half, but i channeled my Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you,” you conclude with pride.

Gojo looks down at his stomach, shiny and pink with fresh scar tissue.

“you must be some sorcerer, then. i was positive i was a goner back there. i’m not sure even Shoko could’ve healed me like this. really nice work,” he muses. he is right, of course. you are unsure of who Shoko is, but Gojo is correct that very few sorcerers could heal such severe injuries. all the same, you loathe the warmth you feel at his admiration; Lord Sukuna’s confidence should be enough for you.

“anyway,” Gojo continues, “who are you exactly? where am i?”

“Lord Sukuna brought you here,” you say. “I am his healer.”

surely the mention of his formidable foe would shake Gojo’s arrogance. you relish the fear that Lord Sukuna’s name seems to inspire in other mortals.

this was unfortunately not the case with Gojo.

“that’s sweet, the ol’ guy wanted me healed up, huh?”

you bristle. “you will address Lord Sukuna with respect!”

Gojo merely laughs at your response, which infuriates you further. “i, for one, fail to see why he deigned to save such an insolent whelp like you,” you snap, succumbing to your rising temper.

“really?” Gojo asks, his blue eyes full of mirth. “guess you don’t get the old guy the way i do. i’m pretty sure I understand why he wanted me alive.”

“then be so kind as to enlighten me,” you say sardonically.

“i’ve been the strongest sorcerer around for basically my whole life,” Gojo says. in spite of the sarcasm in your voice when you asked him to explain himself, he seems sincere. “fighting Sukuna was the first time i felt even remotely challenged. he even technically beat me, i guess.”

he watches you, waiting for you to respond. when you are still silent, he continues.

“i’m sure he feels the same way i do. i know i challenged him the way he challenged me, and for sorcerers at our level, finding a true adversary is hard. once you do find one, letting go can be just as hard.” Gojo sounds wistful; you wonder if he speaks from experience.

“i guess what i’m saying is that it’s lonely at the top,” he finishes; his earlier amusement is gone, and he seems somber now.

you find that you pity Gojo. to be a sorcerer can be a lonesome existence. Lord Sukuna, while alone in his caliber, at least has you and his other servants and devotees to warm and distract him. does Satoru Gojo have anyone?

you reach a hand forward and begin tracing the planes of his pale face with your fingers. he lacks Lord Sukuna’s raw power, but his beauty is exquisite. Gojo leans into your comforting touch.

“how can i ever thank you for bringing me back to life?” he murmurs. as your hand passes near his lips, he stills it with his own and kisses it softly.

you gasp sharply and withdraw your hand as though burned.

“that was wrong,” you say urgently. “you cannot touch me like that.”

Gojo sighs. “you really are devoted to that old man, aren’t you?”

“we both belong to Lord Sukuna,” you reply, emphasizing his proper title. “you must respect his authority over us both.”

“maybe you belong to Sukuku,” Gojo says; you cringe at his inane nickname for Lord Sukuna, but you suppose anything is better than merely calling him an old man. “i, on the other hand, only belong to me, myself, and i.”

you exhale in irritation. no matter how great a sorcerer Satoru Gojo is, his arrogance is certainly grating. part of you wishes you had left him severed in two — at least he was quieter that way. you recall Lord Sukuna once saying that the greatest sorcerers always seemed to possess even greater mental eccentricities; Satoru Gojo certainly proves that theory.

to your annoyance, as he speaks, he takes your hand in his again. you are bemused to find, however, that you do not wish to remove it. his hands are wiry, yet so powerful. there is power within your hands as well, you muse as you intertwine your fingers almost instinctively. your irritation, admiration, and pride are all coalescing into a confusing burn of…passion. how inconvenient.

“you are rather presumptuous, are you not?” comes a voice from the doorway. you gasp and tear your hand from Gojo’s once more, immediately prostrating yourself before Lord Sukuna. Gojo makes no move to even bow his head, meanwhile. typical.

“rise, y/n,” Lord Sukuna continues. “you must be giving our guest a rather unsavory impression of me with your theatrics.” slowly, you raise your face from the floor and see Lord Sukuna has crouched before you. he takes your face in one of his hands. you shiver — it has been so long since you have felt the touch of his true form. “am i not a benevolent master to you?” he murmurs; his face is so close that you can feel his warm, humid breath on the shell of your ear. it is all you can do not to tremble from desire.

with you still reeling from the close contact, Lord Sukuna rises smoothly back to his feet and saunters to Gojo’s bedside.

“you seem in high spirits, Satoru Gojo. i feared i had gone too far with you,” Lord Sukuna says, his tone casual as though he had not cloven the younger man’s body in two just hours earlier.

“oh, i can take much more than that, old man,” Gojo says, innuendo easily discernible from his tone. you cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes; from what you had seen thus far, Satoru Gojo seemed to flirt with everybody he meets. that said, the image of Lord Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, of what Gojo’s playful tone was implying…your mind’s eye is running amok, loathe as you are to admit it. doubtlessly Lord Sukuna’s true form and the sleepless stress of the evening are perverting your mind in unforeseen ways, you reassure yourself.

Lord Sukuna seems tickled by Gojo’s irreverence, and you try not to feel envious. “is that so?” he inquires.

“a credit to your lovely healer, i gotta say,” Gojo continues, his shocking blue eyes twinkling as they meet yours. “she has a rare talent. you sure you need her? i have half a mind to take her with me when we’re done here.”

you know Gojo is being insufferable right now, and moreover irreverent to Lord Sukuna. you know that. but he’s just so handsome, and so appreciative, and so talented in his own right…you feel powerless to stop the breath from catching in your throat, flustered at his attention.

you find yourself thinking about how his smooth skin felt beneath your touch; cool, then warm as you breathed life back into him with your reverse cursed technique. taut, pulsating with the cursed power and blood in his veins.

so lost are you in your meditations of Gojo’s flesh that you nearly miss what Lord Sukuna replies.

“y/n certainly is a first rate sorcerer,” he says, flinging a fond look over his shoulder at you; predictably, you preen at his praise.

“what i enjoy most about y/n’s skill,” he continues, “is her fastidiousness. she leaves no stone unturned. in healing, jujutsu sorcery…and everything else. isn’t that right?” he asks you.

“y-you are too kind, Lord Sukuna,” you bluster, trembling like a newborn fawn. you are usually so comfortable with him, but the presence of a stranger is making you look upon Lord Sukuna with new eyes again.

“and i trust you have been equally thorough with our guest?” Lord Sukuna proceeds.

“of course, Lord Sukuna.”

“how disappointing to hear you lie to me, y/n,” Lord Sukuna tuts. “i know you have not been fully attentive to Satoru Gojo’s recovery.”

your face grows hot. what did you do wrong? you take pride in your work, after all; you would never do a sloppy job no matter the patient, but especially not for one so important to Lord Sukuna.

“my lord? i am afraid i misunderstand you. i have followed only the most careful healing protocols,” you say; this is as close as you dare come to talking back. Lord Sukuna is kind and merciful and great, but much like the fire he commands, his warmth can flare uncontrollably and singe everything in its vicinity if you are not cautious.

“have you made absolutely sure, for example, that Satoru Gojo’s new body is completely functional?” Lord Sukuna prods. he has now turned to face you. one set of his arms is crossed over his chest, while the other is crossed behind his back. his face looks stern, but the mouth on his stomach betrays a smirk.

“Satoru Gojo seems to be functioning as i would expect, my lord,” you reply.

“show me,” he says, stepping aside from Satoru Gojo’s bed. his body had been obscuring Gojo from your view, but you see now that the younger sorcerer has been watching the exchange with a hungry grin. there is clearly a subtext you are missing, but you dare not speculate what it is.

you approach Gojo and perform an examination of his body, as you would any of your patients. you test his reflexes, and check his pupils’ dilation and contraction (during the latter, they look like just a pinprick lost in an ocean. nobody ever warned you of the six eyes’ beauty). when you palpate his ribs, he groans slightly; you feel the sound vibrate through your fingers.

“he is recovering as i might expect, Lord Sukuna. of course, we must keep him under observation, but —”

Lord Sukuna cuts you off with an impatient click of his tongue. “i will not tolerate your inattention to detail!” he growls. your heart starts beating violently, feeling like it’s throwing itself against your breast from within.

you fight to keep your voice steady.

“please forgive my stupidity, my lord,” you grovel, prostrating yourself once more. “i truly am unsure of what more you want me to check. please, if you could just help me, i promise this will never occur again.”

you are mortified to feel the white-hot prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. Lord Sukuna had never spoken to you this way, not even when you had just begun working for him. back then, you had known next to nothing compared to your knowledge now. you rack your useless brain for something, anything, you might have missed, and come up empty. stupid, stupid girl. you just know this is the fault of Satoru Gojo, that irritating, gorgeous interloper. it is even more humiliating to be berated like this in his presence.

at Lord Sukuna’s silence, you direct your eyes as high as they can go from your position on the ground. you cannot see his face from this angle but you see his broad second mouth has gone from smirking to smiling outright with all its teeth. is he…not actually angry?

you raise your head a little further, emboldened by the sight, and see Lord Sukuna himself smiling down at you, his two expressions identical.

“what a pretty sight you make,” he coos, “on all fours looking up at me like that. my pliant, obedient girl.”

he lowers one of his hands to cup himself through his loose pants, and you clench your thighs together; you are immune to neither the effect of his words, nor to the sight before you.

he seamlessly bends down and raises you to your feet; as he holds you against him, it’s all you can do to hold yourself back from rutting against his massive body. but Lord Sukuna has always valued your restraint, and you know he has something planned for you.

he rotates you now so your back is to him, and cages you tightly to his body with all four arms. you gasp; you have forgotten this delicious sensation, of being so thoroughly engulfed by Lord Sukuna that it is almost as if he has subsumed you entirely. he has turned you to face Gojo, who has been watching the scene unfold with great interest. you feel Lord Sukuna’s hardness growing behind you, but you resist the urge to grind into it and remain perfectly still. his pliant, obedient girl.

“now, go attend to our guest,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a finger.

“yes, my lord,” you breathe, so aroused that you are nearly in pain.

he then bends down until his lips tickle the back of your ear, making you shiver.

“show Satoru Gojo that that mouth of yours is meant for greater things than just making pretty little apologies to me,” he murmurs; you feel his voice reverberate through your whole body. the last thing you want to do is detach yourself from Lord Sukuna right now, but you know what he desires of you, and you are always so eager to impress him. this is one of the things he loves about you, you know.

you return to Satoru Gojo’s bed as though to continue your examination; this time, however, you straddle him, desperate for just an ounce of friction to relieve your throbbing arousal.

“i thought you had forgotten about me,” he pouts.

“stop speaking, you stupid, beautiful man,” you reply, before tearing a kiss from his mouth. his lips are still slightly chapped from his hours of unconsciousness, and you rake your teeth across them. he groans into your mouth as you roll your hips until you feel him beginning to grow hard beneath you; the sensation sense frissons of pleasure through you, but you are single-minded in your task. you break your kiss abruptly and sit back, smirking at the pathetic whine Gojo lets out at your sudden absence.

Gojo is only wearing a simple robe you had dressed him in after repairing him; this provides you with convenient access to conduct your examination. you withdraw a vial of oil you had kept in the pocket of your own robes (admittedly in anticipation of Lord Sukuna’s arrival), spread it across your hand, and begin stroking him. “it seems that everything is in working order,” you remark as his erection grows under your expert ministrations. he moans and bucks into your hand.

“p-please…” Gojo pants. the sound of his neediness goes straight to your core, which is rapidly growing wetter. this is not the time to pay attention to yourself, though; not when you’re attending to a patient.

“‘please’ what, Satoru Gojo?” you tease; you know he has wanted to feel your mouth around him ever since Lord Sukuna alluded to it. you are enjoying watching this powerful sorcerer squirm by your hand, however. you glance over your shoulder and see Lord Sukuna is stroking himself off as well, his pants doffed entirely. you gulp; it has been so very long since Lord Sukuna has been in his own body; the sight of his girth is making you flush with desire.

meeting your gaze, Lord Sukuna blows a kiss in your direction, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whining in sheer need to have him inside you. the sooner you obey him and pleasure Satoru Gojo, the sooner you may have the honor of feeling him stretch your walls; and so, you turn back to your guest.

Gojo has the most pathetic look in his stunning blue eyes, driven half mad by yet unfulfilled lust. his plush lips are twisted in a pained grimace. you see him moving his hand to give himself the pleasure you are denying him, but you hold it in place firmly.

“you’ve been such a patient boy so far; don’t ruin it now,” you coo, nipping his lower lip. you then undo his robe and crawl backwards until your face hovers over his engorged cock. you place a light kiss at its warm tip, licking off a bead of precum, before looking back up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Gojo tilts his head back, exposing the delicate white expanse of his throat.

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “i need you!”

the sound of your name on his needy tongue is having quite an effect on you, and you finally take pity on him; he only just recovered, after all. in one smooth motion, you take as much of his length as you can in your mouth. Gojo groans at the feeling of the warm wetness engulfing his cock, and you begin moving your head up and down, complementing the motions with your tongue as you cup his balls with your free hand.

“feel free to gag her,” Lord Sukuna calls from his corner of the room. “her little throat can take it.”

Lord Sukuna instructing Gojo on how to fuck your mouth is turning you on more than you can handle, and you moan involuntarily around his length. Gojo threads his fingers through your hair and pushes your head down on him; you swallow and feel him filling your mouth, his tip battering your throat mercilessly. you can tell from his increasing pace, from the guttural growls the feeling of you is drawing from him, that he must be getting close.

finally, finally, you feel a strong, calloused, beautifully familiar pair of hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and you could cry in relief.

“you have been such a good girl for me,” Lord Sukuna hums sensually. “and i always reward loyalty.” you buck your hips backwards into him, raising them to provide him readier access to your dripping cunt. you feel the pads of his thumbs stroke over your ass as his tongue begins lapping at your folds. his second tongue, you can tell, from its breadth and roughness plundering you. for all its added size compared to his primary tongue, however, Lord Sukuna is no less exacting with it, and he is soon circling your clit with painful accuracy. he does not wait long before giving you the pleasure you crave, and almost embarrassingly quickly, you come all over his massive tongue with a wanton moan.

with the sound of your orgasm, and the feel of your moan vibrating around him, Gojo fists your hair even more tightly and releases hot ropes into your throat with a growl.

“swallow it all,” Lord Sukuna commands, reaching forward to stroke your hair. “swallow it down for me.” you are nothing if not obedient, and you dutifully swallow Gojo’s whole load, not letting a single drop go to waste. Gojo leans back on the headboard, spent, and relaxes his vice grip on your hair. you pop your lips off him, licking them clean and smirking to yourself at your ability to have someone like Satoru Gojo at your mercy.

“i believe our guest needs time to rest before we continue,” you hear Lord Sukuna say from behind you. you turn and see that he is leaning back casually on one of the other beds in the healing quarters. “let us leave him for the time being, y/n.”

you are a little disappointed to be stopping already, but you comply; Lord Sukuna is probably correct that too much excitement for Gojo could hinder his healing process. you make your way towards the doorway, yawning a little, when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. before you have a chance to react, you’re roughly tugged backwards, spinning directly into Lord Sukuna’s firm chest.

“i don’t believe i dismissed you, did i?” he purrs into your ear, and a thrill of excitement slithers through your body.

“did i?” he repeats, pinching the tender skin at your waist at your silence.

“n-no,” you gasp, hardly able to focus over your excitement for what will inevitably follow.

Lord Sukuna twists his hand, making you hiss lightly at the pleasurable pain.

“‘no’ what, y/n? how is it you should address me?”

“no, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to breathe out. he lets out a low chuckle that reverberates through his chest before bending you over an empty bed, holding both your wrists behind your back with one of his hands as he pushes your head down with another. you are already incredibly aroused when you feel a third hand begin to explore your slick folds.

“already so wet for me, are you?” he teases; you can hear the smirk in his voice. you can only whimper in response. he easily inserts two fingers into you, eliciting a sharp cry when he hooks them around and lightly tickles the sensitive spot that can make you come apart.

“now,” you manage to grind out between your teeth. “please, my lord…i need you inside me now…”

“making demands now?” Lord Sukuna taunts. “we certainly are feeling cheeky this evening, aren’t we?”

in spite of his words of chastisement, however, Lord Sukuna seems intent on granting your wishes, and you feel his stiff head, moist with precum, brushing once, twice, thrice against your entrance, building up friction. then, in one decisive motion, he enters you at last; Lord Sukuna was, by all definitions and especially mortal standards, extremely well-endowed; however, you have been ready for him for so long that his length faces little resistance. you sigh in relief at the feel of his massive girth stretching your walls, making you feel so full and complete. at times like this, you feel that your body was created to accommodate him, that being used like this by him was your most sacred purpose.

you push back against him, trying to seat him even more deeply within yourself. in response, he strokes your hair affectionately. he then pulls out slightly, and with one more thrust, he bottoms out in you with a groan.

he begins to drive into you with greater speed and urgency, two of his hands holding your hips in place so tightly that you know his broad fingertips will leave bruises. he adjusts his angle, pushing your face into the mattress and bending over you until your bodies are flush, and he continues at an unrelenting pace. your pleasure continues to build as he bottoms out again and again inside you, his massive second tongue slavering lasciviously over the curves of your back, until you come for the second time that night. you cry out in ecstasy without shame, feeling your walls clench even more tightly around Lord Sukuna. he groans at the sensation and sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he empties himself into you until his come drips down your thighs.

utterly sated, you begin to crawl out from under Lord Sukuna’s massive form, your legs trembling with exertion, pleasure, and pain alike. your shaky breath leaves your lungs all at once when he abruptly flips you on your back. he is so imposing and beautiful, hovering over you like this, with an inscrutable look in his cruel, narrow eyes.

“i believe i already told you, y/n,” he growls, “you are dismissed only when i dismiss you. and i am nowhere near through with you yet.”

holding himself up with two arms, he takes your hand with a third and draws it down until it is around his cock, which is already hard again.

“look what you do to me,” he murmurs, before using your hand to brush his tip against your still-tender vulva.

“i’m not yet ready, my lord,” you whimper weakly, trying to wriggle out from his grasp to no avail. you gasp as he grinds himself between your thighs and against your slickened entrance, growing harder still. the friction almost surpasses pleasure to pain after your powerful recent orgasm, and you keen loudly, unable to help yourself. “i-it’s…too much…i can’t take it,” you protest, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Lord Sukuna promptly silences your noisy cries by clamping a swift hand to your throat.

“i alone dictate what you can and cannot take,” he declares, gently pressing on the sides of your neck and slipping a hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together. with uncharacteristic tenderness, he then kisses the tears from your cheeks.

“and i know you can take this.”

he stares into your eyes until you assent with a silent nod, and he smiles.

“good girl,” he whispers, before using his hand to pry your thighs apart and positioning himself properly. he buries himself inside you again, this time with minimal resistance — between your and his combined juices, you are sopping wet now. encouraged, he hitches your leg over his shoulder for deeper access to your core and begins thrusting into you in earnest. from this new angle, he drives right into your most sensitive inner point, and you are sure your cries can be heard throughout the compound. you hardly care who can hear you now, though; you hardly even pay attention to Gojo, who is now looking fully alert and wide-eyed at the show he is getting.

you dig your fingernails into Lord Sukuna’s sinuous shoulders and cry out again and again until your voice grows hoarse.

“say my name,” Lord Sukuna commands between his own grunts of pleasure.

“L-Lord Sukuna,” you moan, your voice shaking as his thrusts increase in pace. he wraps his hand around your throat again.

“my true name, y/n” he growls. he drives into you faster; you know he is close, and it is your privilege to bring him over the edge.

as soon as he releases his grasp on your neck, you reach up, stroking your hand through his unruly hair before pulling his ear down to your lips. “as you wish, Ryomen,” you purr into his ear. he moans and nearly folds you in half as he drives into you at a diabolical pace. as he reaches his peak, he withdraws his length from you and unleashes his load all over your stomach, marking you as his own; the thought that you had this effect on him, this power over him, multiplies your own pleasure, and you climax once again, your legs shaking and toes curling in sheer bliss.

Lord Sukuna rolls off of your body, both of you breathing heavily.

“now, y/n,” he pants, “you are dismissed. i shall attend to our guest in your stead.”

your exertions have exhausted you, but you are still obedient to him before anything else. and so, covered in both of your comes, his saliva, and a sheen of your own sweat, you bow deeply, and excuse yourself from the room. you are so utterly sated, so pleasurably sore, that all you can think of is taking a hot bath and resting.

well…almost all you can think of.

Lord Sukuna’s final statement has piqued your curiosity, however. and that is why, rather than returning right away to your own quarters, you find yourself kneeling on the floor peering around the curtain closing off the medical wing. if you are perfectly silent and still, you can remain undetected. besides, you reason, Gojo is still your patient, and so it behooves you to keep a close eye on his recovery.

(why leave everything to the imagination, after all?)

by the time you are settled in from your covert viewing spot, you see that Lord Sukuna is standing by Gojo’s bedside. the younger sorcerer is fully awake and alert now, peering up inquisitively with those blue eyes of his.

“is it finally my turn now, then?” he asks; you note that he sounds slightly petulant and roll your eyes. was he really jealous now, of all times?

You can only see his muscled back from where you sit, but you know from how his shoulders shake that Lord Sukuna is laughing at Gojo’s insubordination.

“you have seen what i demand, Satoru Gojo,” he says, crossing both sets of arms. “do you believe you can keep up, even in your state?”

you know that Lord Sukuna’s line of questioning is only pretense, of course. you recall why it was that Lord Sukuna had brought back Satoru Gojo for you to heal. and you remember his request — i want this one staying pretty for me, he had said.

“of course i can ‘keep up,’” Gojo scoffs. “can you keep up, old man? you seemed to get pretty tired just then.”

you grimace at Gojo’s disrespect, but Lord Sukuna is made of sterner stuff, and he just laughs even louder before clapping a pair of hands around Gojo’s beautiful face. you note that Gojo flinches, if only for a split second.

“such a mouth on you,” he hums, brushing a thumb across Gojo’s bottom lip. “just look at you. we will have to do something about that attitude.”

“like what?” Gojo asks, his eyes glimmering with anticipation that you can see even from where you sit. “what exactly is it you would do, Sukuku dear?”

“you seem to have your own ideas already. what is it you would have me do?” you can hear Lord Sukuna’s grin, even if you cannot see it.

Gojo simply winks.

“here’s an idea. why don’t you split me in half again?”

Lord Sukuna laughs heartily before leaning forward over Gojo’s bed, slightly obscuring your view.

“what an idea, Satoru Gojo. would you enjoy that?”

for some reason, Gojo does not answer right away; you try to crane your neck around to see what is happening, but he speaks again soon.

“y…yes…” he responds, suddenly breathless. “i believe i w-would.”

suddenly, you realize that, while you cannot see all of Gojo’s body from this angle, you can see one of Lord Sukuna’s arms moving rapidly up and down, and you can see a blush beginning to color Gojo’s delicate cheeks. your breath catches in your throat as you put together what it is you are witnessing. scrambling for a better view, you decide that both men are occupied enough that you can creep back into the corner of the room and hide behind one of the beds for a clearer angle.

“and are you certain you can truly take me? all of me?” Sukuna inquires, continuing his businesslike tone as though he is not currently stroking his rival off.

“mm-of course,” Gojo keens.

“‘of course’ who?” Lord Sukuna prompts, repeating the routine he loves to do with you.

“forget your own name, Sukuku? you gettin’ senile?” he pants with a grin that is equal parts lascivious and mischievous. this is bratty behavior Lord Sukuna never had to suffer from you, so you wonder with eager anticipation how he will respond.

Lord Sukuna merely tuts in response. “what a shame. whether you can accommodate all of me or not, we will have to fix that smart mouth of yours first.”

he fists a hand in Gojo’s fine white hair, easily palming his full skull as he pulls back until the blue-eyed sorcerer is looking straight up at him.

“i happen to know the best cure for a smart mouth,” Gojo says with a feral grin. he darts his tongue out and swipes it swiftly across Lord Sukuna’s swollen tip.

“get on with it, then,” Lord Sukuna growls, roughly forcing Gojo’s head onto his length. you grimace at the vigor with which Lord Sukuna rams himself down Gojo’s throat which looks so dainty to you, but he slurps eagerly on it; it seems Satoru Gojo is never one to shy away from a challenge.

watching Lord Sukuna use Gojo’s throat so mercilessly, and Gojo meeting the task with such enthusiasm, you find yourself unable to resist snaking a hand down between your legs, where you feel heat and tension building once again. as you toy with yourself, careful to remain as quiet as possible, you see Sukuna pull Gojo’s mouth from his still-hard cock with a wet pop.

“you have proven yourself to me,” he says, releasing his grip on Gojo’s hair to caress it tenderly back from his face. “and it is time for your reward.” you hold your breath; this should be a treat for you, as well.

with a grip on Gojo’s shoulders, he raises him from the bed; Gojo, still a little shaky on his legs, braces himself back against Lord Sukuna’s body. Gojo is by no means a small man, but his form is still engulfed when he is up against Lord Sukuna; you bite your lip at the thought and rub yourself faster.

Lord Sukuna reaches around Gojo to the bedside table, where you had deposited your vial of oil, and lubricates his fingers with a few drops. his hands should still be slick with all of your combined secretions, you reason, but Lord Sukuna always takes extra precautions given his immensity. then, gently bending Gojo back over, he inserts one finger. Gojo throws his head back against Lord Sukuna’s chest and groans as he gets accustomed to the feeling, and he moans outright as Lord Sukuna inserts his second finger.

the sight and sound send hot coils of pleasure through you, and you have to clap a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from mirroring the sounds Gojo is making.

“are you prepared for me to split you in half again, as you so eloquently put it?” Lord Sukuna purrs against the shell Gojo’s reddening ear.

“yes!” Gojo cries without hesitation.

“would you beg for it?” Sukuna prods, not one to give his rival what he is asking for so easily.

“please!” when Sukuna makes no moves to proceed, Gojo cries out again. “please, Lord Sukuna,” he breathes. “please make me yours.”

“good,” Lord Sukuna says, leaves a bruising bite at the nape of Gojo’s neck. “well said.” then, preparing his length and using both sets of his arms to position himself and Gojo optimally, Lord Sukuna enters him with agonizing slowness. you are unsure of whether you even thought to hold yourself back from moaning this time, but it is drowned out in any case by Gojo’s own needy vocalizations.

as he pumps in and out of Gojo, all three of you are overcome by your own pleasure, by the complicated dynamics you have brought into the medical wing and worked out in such a raw and wild way. your earlier feelings of confused irritation for Gojo dissipate as you watch his beautiful form twisting in paroxysms of pleasure; in him, you see yourself. as the two men climax at nearly the same time, scattering their pearly semen across the sheets and each other, you find yourself peaking soon after, tears streaming down your face in sheer joy.

As Lord Sukuna settles Gojo back down into the bed for him to continue his recovery, he gives him a fond pat on the head.

“you were magnificent, Satoru Gojo.”

the sorcerer gives a little self-satisfied smile before falling into a deep slumber nearly immediately, and you make a mental note to ensure that all the exertion did not compromise his healing in any way. before Lord Sukuna can turn back around, you gather your earlier discarded robe around yourself and quietly crawl back out of the room and behind the curtain, pleased with yourself for not being caught.

or so you thought.

“there is no need to exit on my account, y/n,” he calls, not turning around. you gasp before re-entering sheepishly.

“i apologize, my lord. i merely wished not to disturb you both, so i did not make myself known,” you explain rather weakly.

“i am pleased you… enjoyed yourself,” he says, finally looking over his shoulder at you with a knowing smile that makes you shiver with shame.

“you seem to have enjoyed yourself as well, my lord,” you reply; your envy of Gojo for earning Lord Sukuna’s attention is building back up, and you are unable to keep it from your voice.

“oh, y/n,” Lord Sukuna chuckles fondly, closing the space between you with long strides before he is clasping you to him.

“Satoru Gojo is a novelty.” he leans down until your mouths meet, and your breath catches.

“you, however,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot, “are mine. do you understand?”

“yes, my lord,” you breathe back into him, hardly daring to move.

he steps back from you first, calling for Uraume much to your confusion. the soft spoken chef, a long-time friend of yours inside the compound, appears with their characteristic quiet swiftness. much like yourself, Lord Sukuna has implicit trust in their devotion, and so often depends on them for personal tasks even beyond their formal role in the kitchen. as such, you have both built a mutual respect for one another. you nod a cordial greeting at them, which they return.

“you called for me, Lord Sukuna?” they ask with their careful diction.

“please draw a bath and get y/n cleaned up for me,” he says.

you look at him inquiringly, and he chuckles darkly, his previous tenderness all gone.

“you and your pleasure both belong to me, y/n,” he reminds you. “and i know i did not give you my permission to…enjoy the show.”

you gulp, and he turns back to Uraume.

“get her prettied up for me,” he continues with a devious grin of anticipation, “and bring her back to me so i may discipline her appropriately for her disobedience.”

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

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p*ssydrunk!eddie munson x fem!reader (smut MDNI)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

based off this post i made when i was too lazy to write it 🫠

Eddie’s laying back on his bed, soft huffs leaving his lips as you ride him. He was so sensitive today, and while you were partial to him taking control—you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed having him like this. Sprawled out with pink cheeks and messy hair, needy and unbelievably pussy drunk.

He really needed you today, after all the energy he had spent on his latest campaign. He loved it and everything it took to get these sessions to his liking, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exhaust him. He was all wound up throughout with excitement and then had a serious low when they were over, and he needed some major R&R—which you were a major part of.

It was raining outside, which always left the two of you particularly comfortable and almost sleepy—you always had the best lazy sex during these days. The kind of fucking where you just take your time and enjoy every little motion and breath, every caress. You were used to his drop in energy and his chase for dopamine replenishment after campaigns, and you were—of course—always ready to take care of him.

You had been raising your hips and sitting back onto him in a sloppy, lazy kind of way and tears pricked at the sensitive man’s eyes as you did so—all with soft praises and comforting words slipping from your lips. He wasn’t upset by any means, simply stimulated just enough that the pleasure was overwhelming at times. His large hands were placed on top of your soft thighs and his lower lip was all swollen and pink from him biting at it while he watched you.

“Shit… ‘m-” he cut himself off with a pleased groan at you involuntarily squeezing around him at the sound of his voice. “‘m close.”

You whimper at the thought of him finishing inside you—something that still got to you even after all this time—and start to pick up your pace a bit, but this makes him hiss in through his teeth and shake his head. You can hear his hair scratching again the cheap fabric of his bedding as he tries to show his feelings on you speeding things up. You slow back down and he loosens his hold on your thighs where he had been squeezing them when you started bouncing on him.

Now you’re sitting flush against him and grinding, a soft moan escaping you at the way his tip was nudging that spongy spot inside you and his pubic bone was nudging your clit.

“So big, Eds…” you sigh happily, making him whimper underneath you and push his hips up. “S-so fuckin’ deep.”

Your hand rests over your lower stomach and press on the barely visible bulge caused by him and him alone.

“Look, baby, fuck- I can see your cock in me.” You pant out, squeezing around him again and he lifts his head to stare at the spot you were mentioning with glossy eyes. He almost can’t see the subtle protrusion until the lighting hits the right way, and he feels his jaw go slack and his lips parting slightly. His eyes flutter as he watches your stomach and he pushes his hips up before groaning as he falls apart under you.

You feel that hot, blooming sensation of him coating your walls with his cum and it makes you shudder with appreciation. You stop grinding on top of him and continue riding him properly. Eddie’s face contorts with a sort of pleasure and pain, but his voice is caught in his throat. He chokes out another noise as he cums again, and you hum happily.

“Feel better, baby?”

You smile when he nods his head and lets out a contented chuckle.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #sensitive eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem!reader

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strwbwoo · 8 months

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dk the type of fine you’d suck his dick in the backseat and thats exactly what i wrote

cw : smut forced orgasm oral fingering car sex (very lazy writing)

your sqeulching and his moans loud enough for the angency’s driver to hear, but neither of you care. one of his hands on the back of your head to keep you in place despite being in a moving car. the other hand playing with your entrance, panty moved to the side. Your cute mini skirt on the car floor along with the flower bouquet he gifted you at dinner and your brand new birkin.

“thats it baby, so good..” dk groans and you having a bit of a voice kink esp when he gets raspy -just like now- you subconsciously clench around nothing with his two fingers now pumping into you, pumping a little too fast but all you can do is whine. you cant even look at his pretty face due to the position, only looking down at his lap and seat with blurry teary vision.

“s’too much?” he asks while bucking into your face and having to grip his thighs, “mm!!” vibrating on his dick making him buck more, but hes to lost in ectasy to slow down- his fingers nor his hips. your orgasm building up too fast. hips and fingers stuttering faster making you come at the same time, stoping only his hips. while his cum spurts down your throat his fingers still pumping in n out but at a more manageable pace letting you ride your orgasm. getting back up meekly with dks help, pants the only sound you hear.

“we… got here about 5 minutes ago..” the man infront of the wheel murmurs.

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hungharrington · 1 year

Note

since you are likely my favorite user for steve blurbs right now, i am here to share my thots.

i just wanna make out with steve in that stupid bmw. middle of summer, he’s in some stupid little shorts and a crop top, all breathless and shit UGH just let me know your thoughts on this important topic 🎤

firstly, i’m so very flattered 🥹 ur a very talented writer yourself so i was a beside myself receiving this from u! i’m sorry it took me so long! my thoughts are…. well it’s such a delicious thought i had 2 expand….

The radio sounds just a little bit out of tune when you’re this far out from Hawkins.

The noise a bit grainy, coming out low and wavy from the speakers in Steve’s car and mixing with the heat waves of the hottest season. It’s baking hot this summer— mirror mirages spill onto the roads, flocks of people gather to the lakeside, and swim-suits are the only appropriate apparel to combat the sweltering temperatures.

You, however, are entirely too hot for another reason altogether today.

Steve is always warm. He seems to glow from the inside, always hot enough to warm your cold hands should you worm them under his shirt — though, he always yelps and bats them away. Loves it secretly. Today, he feels as warm as sunlight itself under your touch.

His lips have been softened from your endless kisses and there’s a laziness in the press of his mouth against yours. His hands are gentle, tracing invisible patterns up your sides and back. It’s slow — a gentle push and pull of you in his lap, your legs slung atop his bare thighs and arms around his neck, messy kisses shared.

You love summer, if only for the fact it gets Steve into shorts. The pair he’s in now are cherry red, white lining the edges and all the motion has them riding up his thighs. The paler softer parts of his thighs are exposed and you have a half mind to slink down and continue your kisses there. Fingers twined in his hair, you give a soft scratch along the nape of his neck and are rewarded with a soft sigh in Steve’s kiss.

The song on the radio tapers off and there’s a crackle of the radio’s host voice, announcing something in a mumble you can’t hear. Steve’s hands on your waist pull you closer, rocking your down and you release a little groan, fire catching in your tummy at the friction when—

“Oh, man, I love this song.” Steve pulls back abruptly, interrupting your heated make-out. He licks his swollen lips which are sheened with your spit and you blink at him, surprised. It takes another second for a smile to slip onto your lips as Steve scrunches his eyes closed for a second, beginning to sing along lowly as he bangs his head lightly.

“Just take those old records off the shelf…” He opens his eyes again and smiles at you. He’s so handsome that it makes your stomach swoop.

“D’ya know it?” He asks, one hand leaving your hand to push some hair behind your ear. You nod, taking advantage of the closeness and smacking a quick kiss onto the inside of his wrist. Steve melts a bit, sinking further back into the drivers seat with a gooey grin.

You’re glad for it, relishing in your new view— eyes skim down his chest, fixing hungrily on the sliver of his tummy that’s exposed. The shirt he’s wearing is killer. You had full on stammered when you climbed into the passenger seat, at the cropped and loose shirt Steve was wearing; the tan skin skin of his midriff well on display. Paired with those shorts? You had uttered a silent prayer, unsure if you were giving thanks or asking for some goddamn mercy.

“S’good song,” He says, though his eyes have got that distracted look in them, utterly trained on you.

His hands paw at your side, nails scraping to bring your closer for another round of lazy making out. But you dodge his kiss— dotting a quick kiss on his cheek before you nose under his jaw. Steve takes a second to catch on, not moving to give you any space. You nuzzle in closer and make a little noise, nose pushing at his jaw til he finally tilts his head back, letting you creep closer.

Lips meet skin and you kiss, kiss, kiss- til your desire grows and expands, threads of lust twinging in your tummy. You suckle, nibbling and soothing the skin — the heat of the day wanes around you, fueling you more. Below you, you can feel Steve’s hips shift around, his hardness growing beneath you.

“You’re a fiend,” Steve teases. It loses all heat with how breathless he sounds.

“Says the one who brought me out to Lover’s Lake,” You lick a hot stripe up his neck, taking his earlobe into your mouth and Steve groans loudly, grip on your tightening. “Wouldn’t exactly say you’re full of pure intentions.”

“Touché,” He breathes. Then pulls you down, rocking your hot cunt against his cock once more, both your soft groans mixing in the hot summer air.

Steve grins, saccharine and devilish all at once, and you waste no time in kissing it away, hands twisting in back into his hair with a tug. The fire from inside, heavy with lust, and the warmth from outside, the blistering setting sun, mix and mingle— as you let the your sun-kissed boy take you apart in beemer, lakeside.

#a little blurb :)#WISH THAT WAS ME BRO #i’m so glad u shared ur thots :) ur brain is fucking massive and i’m kissing it #croptop steve is. the man for me #and tiny shorts? WHEWWWW 😮‍💨😮‍💨#jay writes #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #it’s a little bit smutty #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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baratiddyappreciator · 6 months

Text

Cuddling the Baki Cast (NSFW)

Minors DNI and all that, you guys know better. I had a lot of fun with these ones, changed up the order a bit, and also carried over the bonus Yanagi, Oliva, Chiharu and Gaia, at the cost of taking out Tokugawa because I apparently can't sexualize that particular old man. DW, You'll still get your old man fix though ;) These are a bit longer than the initial ones because I'm not as restrained when I can just put the cut right beneath my little blurb and write... Well, sin. Also guess who finally decided to whip out colours so things are clearer :D (it's me)

NSFW under the cut!

Baki:

Cuddling with him always comes with a risk. A risk of being interrupted by some upstart trying to challenge him, or his dad, for some godforsaken reason. Sometimes he gets a sudden spurt of energy and feels the need to just disappear and go train for a few hours, but sometimes, and sometimes, like now, you feel his hands start to snake around your sides and under your shirt, higher and higher towards your chest as his previously innocent kisses turn hungry and deliberate against your throat. His fingers tweak your nipples as his lips meet yours, his hips bumping softly against your own, his legs urging yours apart so he can make room for himself, grinding against you hard and slow. He was all over, kissing you, grinding against you, playing with your nipples.

He didn't want to take his hands off of your chest, so it was up to you to reach down to pull your pants and underwear down. He didn't get the luxury treatment for being lazy, of course, the most he got was you clumsily undoing his pants and pulling him out of his boxers so he could grind against your eager little hole for a little bit before he pressed in, rolling slightly so that he could press both of his knees to the futon beneath the two of you, rolling his hips, his hands still cupping your chest, but now using it as a form of handhold so he could pull you back down onto his cock, his hot breath fanning against the shell of your hear.

"You're driving me wild baby doll."

Kozue:

She liked having music playing while you two cuddled. She said it added to the atmosphere, helped soothe you two into a comfortable, zen mood, and sometimes even into sleep. But other times, it was helpful for covering up the sounds of her breathless gasps. Your teeth gently came down on the shell of her ear as your fingers slid over her slick clit, her hips pressed back against yours, her own hand cupping you through your pants, providing you the friction you needed as you ground against her palm, her shirt pulled up exposing her chest to the now slightly chilly air. She'd been working so hard lately, it was only fair that you help her take off the edge so she doesn't burn herself out.

She gasped slightly louder, her other hand grabbing frantically at her pillow to muffle her voice, her hips bucking against your palm as your fingers circled her clit faster and harder, her face turning slightly so you could kiss her properly. She was shaking, so close to the edge that you could almost taste it, feeling the minute twitches in her thighs and her lower stomach, her ragged breaths hitching as hit-pitched whines escaped her.

"Baby please, I'm so close already."

Hanayama:

Having him crawl into bed after coming home dead tired was always a treat. He'd normally keep the lights off and not notice that you woke up the second the front door opened. You could tell what kind of mood he was in just by how he took off his shoes. And today was a mood that you could get behind. His hand slid up your thigh over the blankets, tickling you as his weight settled behind you only a moment later, the blankets being pulled down slightly. He knew you were awake at this point, you couldn't help the stupid grin on your face as he found you naked as the day you were born in bed, waiting for him. A soft swear was muttered under his breath, before you felt his cock slap against your ass, encouraging you angle your hips up and back so he could make you feel good.

And of course, you obeyed. Why wouldn't you? This was the kind of cuddling that you didn't mind in the slightest. The delicious stretch you felt as he pressed into you was exactly what you've been needing all night. You've been lonely without him. His forehead pressed against the back of your head, hips rolling slowly to get used to the feeling before he sat up, his hand settling on your lower back, guiding your hips back to meet his in a tiny thrust, your only hint of playfulness in him before you were jostled forward by a hard snap of his hips, your hands scrabbling at the pillows for purchase.

"That's it, be good for me and take it."

Chiharu:

He was a bundle of nerves during regular cuddling, always worried that he'd do something wrong and freak you out or hurt you. He's not as strong as some of the guys in the arena, but he's still plenty powerful you know! This time, however, you were the one worried about freaking him out as your hand travelled lower and lower down his torso towards his hips, innocently looking up at him as you toyed with his zipper, your hips wiggling slightly. He looked flabbergasted, eyes flicking between your eyes and your hand, then back to your eyes, and finally down to your lips as he licked his own. This would be fun, you could tell as he gave you a tiny nod, and you started unbuckling him.

His shaft was hot and heavy in your hand as you slowly pumped him, his hand resting on your ass, slowly starting to creep around to slide beneath your pants and sink into your eager hole. It's only fair that he return the favour, right? His head fell back slightly, a groan leaving him, before his head came back to but against yours gently, his brow furrowed, his unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes glassy and filled with pleasure locked with your own as you jerked him off, still smug, but you couldn't stop your hips from rocking back against his hand as his fingers gently rubbed at your insides.

"Fuck me doll, you're making my brain melt."

Katsumi:

Warm. You normally woke up warm, but now you were almost too warm as Katsumi tossed your legs over his thighs, hands cupping your chest, rolling your pert nipples between his pointers and thumbs, kissing you hungrily. You loved it when he woke up and decided his morning run could be replaced by ramming you into the mattress, his hips slowly rolling against yours as he sank into you slowly, the stretch delicious as he pressed in and pulled out time and time again. One of his hands left your chest to gently rest at the base of your throat, your only warning that he was about to pick up the pace before he was off to the races.

His hips slammed into yours, the wet sound of your bodies joining amplified in the room as he used your throat to pull you back down on his cock after he jostled you forward, his hair messy, lightly panting before he flashed a smile at you, your legs cinching around his waist and giving him a little squeeze, drawing him in deeper, closer, and he didn't hesitate to throw his head back and let out a low moan that vibrated through the air, making you scrambled to reach up and cover his smirking lips.

"Come on sweetheart, the neighbours already hate us, have some fun."

Jack:

Your hands were braced on his chest, firm and strong. He was big and sturdy, one of his hands resting on your thigh, the other on your hip, thumb pointing down to give you that extra bit of stimulation as your hips rocked against his hard, a deep groan leaving his lips as his head fell back against the arm of the couch, his cock pressing deep into you, hitting parts that you'd previously never known about before meeting him. His hips rolled in tandem with yours, timing it just right so that he'd press in as you rocked back, sending him deeper into you in just the right way that made you feel like you were going to explode.

His eyes were glazed over as he brought his head back, low moans tumbling from his parted lips as he watched you ride him. One of your hands moved up and squeezed the base of his thick neck, earning a louder moan, his hips bucking up sharply, though he rubbed at your thigh in apology immediately after, he knew he had to behave. Sometimes him assuming that you had no ulterior motives to crawling into his lap had its benefits, like the flustered look on his face when you'd started griding your hips onto his only moments ago. He growled against your lips as you leaned down to kiss him.

"Fuck honey, keep going, just like that, I've needed it all day."

Gaia:

The first time he'd slotted his thigh between your legs while you were watching your show, you'd slapped it away playfully. He knew how much you liked this show, surely he wouldn't bother you while you were watching the new episode, right? But his thigh bumped between your legs again, and another time after that, one of his hands resting on your hips to guide them down on his leg, his other massaging the base of your throat. He was, apparently, going to make you miss this episode, forcing you to watch it some other time, which really wasn't the same. He nipped at the shell of your ear, impishly smiling at you when you glared at him from over your shoulder, though you both knew that it was half-hearted at best.

He had you grinding against his thigh on your own in no time, extremely proud of himself for providing the perfect distraction at just the right time, his own hips chasing yours with each roll forward and down, basking in your little whimpers and sighs as he brought pleasure to you, his hand rhythmically squeezing at the base of your neck in time with your increasingly desperate thrusts against his leg.

"What's the matter sweetheart? Can't focus?"

Kosho:

His hands, you decided, were fucking dangerous. You'd just been trying to snuggle up to him, it was cold tonight, and now you were pinned to his chest, squirming and bucking your hips as he fucked you on his fingers, his other hand holding your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eyes as his palm made a slick slapping noise whenever it made contact with your skin, pleasure rising from each forceful impact, each crook of his fingers. You could feel him, fully hard, pressed against your stomach, but he wasn't going to let you touch him yet.

No, that was for people who behaved and didn't make him lose his comfortable spot when he was so close to falling asleep. He wasn't genuinely mad, that you both knew, but he was going to make a point, and he was going to make sure that it got across before he gave you his dick. You made a choked noise as his fingers hit a spot that made you see stars, and he smirked.

"Are you warm enough now, babydoll?"

Kureha:

Cuddling with Kureha was dangerous for a multitude of reasons. For starters, sometimes he'd just sit in silence, and then come out and say that your heartbeat was irregular and that it was annoying him. Other times? Well, other times you'd wind up where you were now, with your legs over his shoulders as his mouth worked wonders on you on your couch, the freshly folded laundry knocked all over the floor during the excitement. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch, the angle awkward, but allowing for access.

Your movements were sloppy, because of course they were, he was making your brain leak out of your ears with what his tongue was doing to you, but he knew better than to expect perfection from you while he was going down on you, settling for the sloppy, jerky handjob he was getting from you, well aware that you'd get better after he helped you cum.

"Darling I love you, but if you don't give me some more grip, I'm going to lose it."

Retsu:

You loved how you could absolutely blindside this man by asking him to cuddle you. A quick cuddle on the couch, that was all you'd asked for, and he'd given it to you. What he hadn't realised was that it was all a clever ploy for you to find a way to suck his dick before he went and trained. He'd made some really good food for supper the night before, and now he was going to get cherished, absolutely fucking appreciated, the idiot.

Your head bobbed, and the couch groaned under the force of his grip, his hands shaking as he whined, hips shallowly bucking into your mouth, drool slicking his shaft, wanting to touch, but not wanting to at the same time. His face was bright red and twisted in pleasure, and if you could take a picture and frame it, you'd keep it beside your bed so you could see it every morning and every night.

"Love, please- Gods- Don't stop!"

Oliva:

Telling him about any of your fantasies was a huge mistake. Why? Because now he had you pegged. Literally and figuratively. He knew what you'd like, and he'd used that to get to where you where now, bouncing on his cock, your hands braced on his knees as his hand, settled on your lower back, guiding you up and down on him, that damn smirk playing across his lips, like he was proud of himself (he was, he absolutely was and he wouldn't hide that).

There was a brief moment where his guiding hand stopped, but only so that the other hand could give your ass a "light tap". The resounding slap rang out in the room, earning a strangled moan as you threw your head back, hearing that all too familiar chuckle.

"That's it honey, take it just like that."

Doppo:

You'd both had long days, so you'd settled for just lounging around the house, wrapped up in a blanket, watching whatever was on TV at the time. But Doppo had keen eyes and a golden tongue, he saw the way you'd kept rubbing your thighs together- hell, he'd felt it- and he wasn't about to let you end your night horny. And you would have appreciated that fact more if he hadn't put you in a damn headlock and decided to fuck your soul out. His hips pounded against yours, slick smeared across both of your skin, his arms powerful steel rods around your head and neck, choking, but not entirely.

Broken, garbled little sounds left your lips, but he only chuckled, pausing for only a second to readjust and reposition his hips to hit that spot he knew drove you absolutely insane and would usually have you cumming so hard you'd start crying, his arms flexing harder for just a moment, completely cutting off your air supply, and your eyes rolled. You could just see the proud smirk on his lips as he laughed breathlessly.

"Come on baby, I said I'd make it all better, didn't I?"

Shibukawa:

You really should have known that you couldn't out-sly the master. You thought you were being clever by offering him your lap so you could cop a feel, but that hadn't turned out the way you were expecting at all. As it stood, he currently had you pinned to the ground and was fucking your thighs almost painfully slowly, chuckling in your ear. He was so close, yet so far from you, and it drove you mad with need.

He wasn't evil, of course, just mischievous, so he was kind enough to at least direct his thrusts upwards once in a while for a short period so you'd get some stimulation beyond in your thighs, his grip so firm that it was almost guaranteed that you wouldn't be able to writhe away.

"Do you see now darling? You can't pull a fast one on me."

Yanagi:

His hand covered your mouth, but he wasn't trying to kill you. No, he was trying to shut you up so you wouldn't make the neighbours freak out and call the cops as he slammed his hips against yours, your eyes rolling back as he hit a spot that made you see stars. All of this because you insisted on being so needy right after his escape from prison. His hand came down on your ass again, earning a jolt as the sharp sting shot through your body like a gun.

His fingers flexed, moving slightly, making sure that his palm wouldn't entirely cover your mouth so you could breathe, but they immediately moved back at the loud sob you let out as he hissed sharply, sucking air in through his teeth.

"Now now sweetheart, if you keep making noises like that I'll have to leave."

Motobe:

You thought you'd won the lottery by getting Motobe to cuddle with you. He was warm, comfortable, and relaxed. And then he'd started cleaning his damn sword. Of course, you could still relax, hell, you even started to drift off to sleep until the movement of his arms changed slightly, a new, slick noise rousing you from your dozing. His breath came out in short pants as he grabbed your hand, squeezing it around his shaft as he kissed your forehead. Not this was a sword you could get behind cleaning.

Of course, there was something much better at cleaning his sword than your hand, and he wasted no time sinking straight into the hilt, earning a long whine as he pulled you down onto his hips, smirking up at you as your hips rolled and bucked against his, desperate for some form of relief, your hands braced on his shoulders, gasping as he simply leaned back, lighting and taking a drag of his cigarette as he watched you bounce on his cock.

"There you go baby, take care of me just like that."

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darkworkcourier · 1 year

Text

This is kind of a quick and dirty smut sampler for @cyber-nya's Monster 141 AU. It's kind of experimental and like an exercise in playing with styles, so hopefully some of it is cohesive?? We Shall See.

It's all gn!reader/the 141 doing their monster thing, and a bonus at the end. :)

(Also content warning for minor (very minor!) bloodplay in Price's section, chase roleplay in Soap's, minor mindfuckery and unreality in Gaz's, and safeword usage in Ghost's.)

---

With Price, it's all dichotomies. Pain and pleasure. Illumination before plunging into darkness. Aching and soothing.

Fangs pierce your neck—a cold metal sting before warmth floods your bloodstream, numbing you from the inside out. You hear your heart thrum like a plucked bass string, and you feel that odd, drowsy sensation that comes syrup-slow and sweet. His eyes flick up once, startlingly blue, and you hear his voice in your head.

I warned you, he says. He always says it, and it took you so long to realize it's because he cares.

"I know," you whisper, bringing your hand up to stroke his hair.

You always lose track of time when you're with him, hours smearing like oil, your circadian rhythm tripping and stumbling. At some point, you know he helps you out of your clothes until your skin is flush against his. His stolen heat soaks into you, and you moan as his fangs retract, tongue laving over your wounds. Then he kisses you, slow and copper-sharp, deceptively human—yet as inhuman as they come.

"Touch me?" you sigh against his lips.

Of course, he replies. In your head. In your ears. There's no difference. All that matters is his hand on you, working up a slow-moving heat between your legs, winding and coiling up the tension until it threatens to spring.

Sometimes he's quiet when he touches you like this. Sometimes he fucks you and snarls in your ear like an animal attempting human speech. Tonight, though, he turns wistful as his hand moves in long, lazy movements and you gasp against his jaw.

"One day," he tells you. "It's gonna be a bite that'll be your last."

This bedtime story. Your favorite of them all.

You bite down on your bottom lip and nod against his shoulder as he fucks you with his fingers. It takes everything in you not to sob at the sensation.

"You'll feel all your life drain out of you, and right when you think it's the end—when all this goes dark—you'll feel it. You'll feel something better than this."

This is punctuated by a stroke that sends you arching off the bed, pressing yourself against him as he works you up and up. You shudder and moan, and he rests a cheek against the crown of your head like he's listening to an orchestral piece.

"Life like you never lived it," he says. "I'll give you back some of what I took, a little bit of me in it. It'll be just like fuckin' you, but so much better. You'll wish it never ends."

You're close to wailing now, his hands moving faster than any human's, the friction a burn between your legs as you tremble in his arms.

"You'll be mine. Properly mine."

And you're over the edge—a burning bright light, something singing high and melodious in your shared blood, and then you fall back into the honey-sweet, velvet darkness.

You lay against him, panting, eyes squeezed shut, shivering in fits as you come down to the sound of him shushing you, the feeling of him stroking your hair.

"It'll happen," he whispers to you, then kisses you so sweetly that it aches. "I promise you that, love."

---

Soap plays with you at the outset. It's shared glances across rooms, quick smiles, come-hither looks. He makes a game out of following you around, then turns it into a pursuit. The aim is to get caught, but you're always given a better reward if you make him work for it. Sometimes you joke and say he's a working breed.

Today, you really make him put in the effort.

A light jog across base turns into a flat-out sprint once you get beyond the hangar. You hear Soap's boots behind you, then his grunt of surprise when you take off. It's thrilling, the burn in your muscles, the sound of Soap gaining on you, the potential of what might happen to you when he finally catches you.

You quickly turn a corner before reaching the easternmost hangar. Your boots skid on tarmac, and you nearly trip before catching yourself on the edge of a crate and using that to push off. Soap's seconds behind you, close enough that you can hear his heavy breathing, and as you round another corner leading to one of the old, disused hangars, you hear him growl.

Not playful.

The growl of something primal.

What starts as a fun exercise turns into a survival mantra—get to the hangar, get to the hangar. As your calves scream in effort and your heart threatens to punch out of your chest, you tell yourself that you'll get the luxury of making decisions so long as you reach the fucking hangar.

Adrenaline fuels every desperate step, but excitement rumbles through you at the sensation of heat at your back, the acrid sent of brimstone stinging the air. Fuck yes, you think. Come on.

You almost take the door right off its hinges, then slam it behind you just in time for Soap to impact it. The vibrations run up your arm and jar you, but you don't have time to be distracted. You sprint through the yawning empty space of the old Cold War-era hangar, the smell of burning dust hitting the air as you hear Soap actually take the door out of its frame with an otherworldly howl. Metal groans and rattles behind you, just as you finally find an empty office to hide in.

Most importantly, there's a lock on the door. Not that it matters, and not that it helps that you're effectively cornered. But that is kind of the point.

You hide between the dust-coated desk and a rusted file cabinet, counting your heartbeats and listening as claws scrape over concrete.

Thirty-one, you count, fingers on your pulse. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-fo—

Something scratches at the door, and you hear him sniffing at its base.

You clap your hand over your mouth and press your back against the desk, trying not to grin.

(You should be terrified, but that part of your brain is hardwired now to remember that Soap would never hurt you.)

"Come out," he snarls. It's impossibly deep, a black snarl of sound that sends tingles through your whole body. "I can smell you."

You wonder what he can smell, if he picks up the scent of arousal pooling between your legs at the thought of what he's planning to do—if he's planned at all. Sometimes, when he's worked up like this, he's beyond organized thought, and the results tend to be incredible.

A few more seconds and heartbeats.

Then you hear the hinges protest, screws stripping in their sockets, wood groaning from the pressure. The lock rattles, then snaps, and the door hits the opposite wall hard enough to make you jump.

Before you can peek up over the top of the desk, black smoke and red eyes fill your vision, and a clawed hand cinches around your throat.

"Got ya."

That's all you have time to register before you're thrown over the desk like you weigh nothing. Soap's at your back, body crackling like flames, hooked claws splitting the wood of the desk as his hands (paws?) bracket your head. You know without looking that he's half-transformed—human and hellhound combined so that he can hold you down like this, but can fuck you with the fury of hell as his fuel.

And enough of a hellhound for his teeth to shred your clothes, tearing them away until you're exposed to him. A long tongue insinuates against you, achingly hot against your skin, teasing you with every lap. Then it withdraws, and you moan in protest.

"No complainin'," he says, grin audible in his snarling voice. "We got a couple hours and I plan tae make the best of it."

---

Gaz is different. He seems to exist in two worlds—a split entity that relies completely on an image of a man combined with the reality of his actual body. You're never more aware of this than when you're intimate with him.

You're in his room, feeling the weight of him against your back as he drapes an arm over your waist. He kisses the nape of your neck, down to the first divot of your spine. There, he lingers, seeming to listen to your soft breathing, hand coming up to rest over your heart. You know he loves to feel your life under his hands, the sensation of your vitality fluttering in his palms like a bird.

"Close your eyes," he mutters into your ear.

You do without question, your trust in him absolute and infinite.

All at once, you fall into that here-and-not-here space that Gaz seems to occupy. You feel his hands roaming over your body, tugging your pants down in slow, methodical motions while his lips press against your neck and shoulder. At the same time, the vision behind your eyelids goes from dizzy phosphenic spirals and patterns to something concrete and clear.

You see a sword the color of burnished gold, handle intricate and polished to a shine from centuries of use. It hovers between the gauntlet-clad hands of a suit of ancient armor, proud and regal. As Gaz touches your thighs, the helmet moves, lending the appearance that the armor is watching you.

The sensation of this particular kind of scrutiny is exquisite, and the version of you that exists in this space moves around the armor to survey it from all sides.

(Gaz touches you at the apex of your thighs.)

The blade starts to glow with unearthly light, flickering like flame.

(His hands move with deep strokes as he licks a line up the column of your neck.)

The armor's torso moves along with you, watching you vigilantly. Always ready for to attack or defend, the sword as much a threat as it is a promise.

("Does it feel good?" Gaz asks you, voice low and lovely in your ear.)

You're at the armor's back, and you see your own hands stretch forward, fingers brushing over the metal—warm to your touch, like flesh. The helmet watches you, holding still, waiting.

(You can't speak, mouth open on a moan before your head falls back against his shoulder. Your hips move on their own accord, seeking him out.)

You return to the front, facing the glowing sword, watching strange patterns ripple over the sharpened metal. The urge to touch the pommel is overwhelming—a need, rather than a want. Something about the sword and armor calls to you in a way you can't explain, like you're being called home.

("That's it," Gaz says, encouraging. You can't tell if it's to you trying to fuck yourself on his hand or to the version of you in the in-between space.)

The helmet passively watches you. You take in the sight of it—intricate designs embossed above the visor, gorget nicked with old dents and scratches that tell of a long history. It's beautiful. More importantly, you know without any sense of doubt that it's alive.

(Something burns in you, bright and wonderful, coaxed forth on Gaz's hand.)

Your hand stretches out, reaching for the sword.

(You moan, and you hear Gaz answer it with his own.)

Heat radiates off the metal, feeling like sunlight on your skin.

("Come for me," he tells you.)

Your fingers touch the pommel—this sword in the stone, always waiting for your hand in particular. The moment you touch it, one of the armor's gauntlets gently covers the back of your hand with something like assurance.

(You shudder in his arms, bucking your hips against his hand, riding out this bliss that he's created.)

This was always meant for you, the armor tells you.

("That's it. That's it," he whispers into your ear, holding you close with his opposite arm. You feel his lips on your jaw.)

You grip the handle, lifting the golden sword from its place, spurred on by the armor's hand on you. Light floods this strange space, brilliant and resplendent.

(And then—)

And then your eyes open, gasps sharp as you come down from your orgasm. Gaz has you in his arms—decidedly human arms with flesh on muscle on bone. You feel so safe, endorphins flooding you as you relax into him and sigh.

"S'always yours," he tells you, kissing your jaw. "You know that?"

You nod, smiling, eyes fluttering closed again. Just there, beyond the cosmic dust behind your eyelids, you still see the sword in your hand.

"I know," you say, rolling over to press yourself against his chest. Your head goes up under his chin, and you smile.

---

Ghost is something else entirely.

During missions, he keeps something of a corporeal form, concentrating himself into the shape of a man. He moves as a human might—controlled gestures and motions that anyone would recognize. Only when he fights, when he truly throws himself against an enemy, does he allow even a portion of himself to loosen from the illusion. Black smoke unfurls from him, wraps itself around anyone unfortunate enough to get caught, squeezes the life from them and leaves a husk behind.

He keeps it controlled around the 141, and especially around you. Keeps his distance, lingering at the edge, like an animal prone to flight. You know what that smoke is capable of—what he is capable of, but not once have you worried he'd use it against you.

And when you finally learn what he can do to you—

You're in the showers, long after lights-out. Even if someone did come to find you, they couldn't see you. Ghost's made sure you're completely enveloped within him, lost in a cold smoke brushing like snow over your bare skin.

He's inside you— in every available place until it really is impossible to tell where you end and he begins. He fucks you relentlessly, but swallows up every sound from where one of those fucking hands plies your mouth open. You think he has you pressed against one of the tile walls, but knowing that would require sight, and he's covered yours.

There's something deliriously intoxicating about the thought of Death Itself fucking you like this, using every hole, taking your pleasure over and over and absorbing each moan like a soundproof room. Your legs gave out minutes—hours?—ago, but Ghost holds you upright, keeps you in just the right position as his presence ensconces you.

"You should see yourself," he says, voice coming from everywhere. He sounds like he's behind you, in front of you, whispering from each shoulder. "Fucked out like this. Barely able to keep yourself up."

You probably groan, but Ghost takes that, too. It feels like a kiss, something brushing over your lips, and you eagerly chase it, too blissed out to know what it is you're trying to catch.

"You'd take anything I give you, huh?"

A tendril follows along the curve of your thigh, up and up, then bridges over to the opposite leg in one liquid movement. It's cold silk on your flesh, making you shiver in his omnipresent grip.

It's almost too much, almost—

Your right hand moves, index and middle finger extended, tapping twice into the cool darkness.

It recedes immediately.

In a set of simultaneous movements, you're lowered to the floor and one of the tendrils reaches out to turn the shower on, shielding you from the water until it's warm enough to tolerate. You catch your breath as the water falls over you, and Ghost wraps himself around you like a blanket, settling over your shoulders before nudging gently at your cheek.

Still trying to catch your breath, your trembling hand reaches up and strokes over the darkness, finding it soft and pliable under your fingers. "I just... I needed a break. Just a few minutes."

"Okay." Another nudge, this time from something that's nearly a hand. "You need anything?"

You shake your head, then lean into him. He takes more of a form now, human-shaped enough for you to lean your head against his chest. "You, mostly," you say.

"I'm here." He kisses the top of your head—one of the most human gestures he knows—and repeats it again. "I'm here."

---

"I don't care that it's incorporeal smoke," Dr. Adler says. "Sexual wellness is important, regardless of how you go about accomplishing... whatever it is."

You groan, watching her untie the tourniquet on your arm as blood flows into the tiny plastic vial. Within a few seconds, it's full, and she takes it and the syringe out in one quick movement before holding the vial up to the fluorescent light buzzing over your heads.

She taps the bottom of the vial twice with her thumb, and you watch with mute fascination as your blood turns bright blue, glows like a firefly, then turns back to what you think is still your blood.

Dr. Adler hums and tucks the vial into her lab coat pocket (with no indication of what she's planning on doing with it). "You're clean," she says.

"That's it? Don't you have to send that to a lab or something?"

"In a normal medical practice, yes," she replies with a shrug. "But not here. I don't have to pretend that I can't just do it myself."

"So your magic witchy powers cover checking for STDs?"

A brief look of annoyance crosses her face. "Not naturally, no. I learned it out of— Well, necessity."

You raise your brows. "Necessity?" you repeat.

"Military people. Always putting their genitalia in places where it doesn't belong."

"Oh." Gross. "Ew."

"Mhmm. Besides, I had to test it on myself a few times."

That gets your brows to a new altitude. "What?"

The look on Dr. Adler's face is the dictionary definition of enigmatic. Immediately, she goes to her office door and opens it for you. "Nevermind," she says. "I have another appointment waiting."

You glance out the door, but the waiting room's empty.

Still, she looks pretty insistent, and judging from hearsay from the other members of the 141, it's best not to pry too much into her business.

You leave, and the moment the door shuts behind you, you hear a soft, low, very much masculine laugh and a quiet mutter of what sounds like German.

Best to leave it be.

#cod: mw2 #mw2 fic #monster 141 au #monster 141 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #141 x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #this was more like fun practice in the sandbox but wheeeeee #now i can go grocery shoppinggggg

975 notes · View notes

artful-aries · 1 year

Text

Acrophilia - Venti x Reader (NSFW)

Content Warnings: Penetrative sex with Venti in the hands of the statue of Barbatos statue in Mondstat. Reader can be read as gender neutral. Porn without plot. Minors please do not interact with this post.

Word Count: 1.1k

The cool night air kissed your flushed skin as you looked down at Venti who was laying down on the carved marble of the Statue of Barbatos’ hands, looking up at you as though you descended straight from Celestia itself.

Funny how this was his statue and yet, here he was underneath you, practically worshiping the sight of you taking his cock so well.

“Ah- ah, (Y-Y/N),” Venti whined as you slowed your movements to tease him, “P-Please, I can’t-“

“Shhh, Venti, your voice carries on the wind from up here,” you cooed as you sheathed his entire length inside of you, grinding against his hips in lazy circles, “If you’re not careful, someone might hear us. You wouldn’t want me to stop, would you?”

“N-No,” Venti breathlessly stuttered as his hands gripped your hips in pure desperation, “No don’t s-stop, mmn, please don’t stop (Y/N).”

You smiled sweetly at him as you rewarded him with a slow, steady movement of your hips, eliciting a sharp hiss from him as his fingers dug into your soft flesh. His chest heaved as he struggled to keep quiet at the feeling of you riding him, little tremors of pleasure rippling through his body at your teasing movements. You could feel the wind pick up a little bit, making you smile as you knew that it was a byproduct of Venti’s overstimulation.

“Didn’t you ask me to tease you?” You feigned a sweet innocence as you brought your hips down harshly, making Venti choke on his own moan, “And all the way up on this statue, no less. What would the people of Mondstat think, seeing their god committing such lewd acts?”

The blush that was already covering his cheeks extended down his neck at your words, “F-Former Archon, (Y/N). I’m not their- Nng!”

His protest was cut off with a groan as you sped up the movement of your hips, making you smirk down at him. Venti had always been a talker, it came naturally to him as a bard, but it was extremely satisfying to take the words out of his mouth for once. His bright eyes looked up at you, half lidded with lust as he watched the steady bounce of your hips as he struggled to keep composure.

“S-Shit, you feel so good,” Venti moaned as he couldn’t help but buck up into you, drawing out a low moan from your lips before you could stop yourself.

“A-ah,” You breathed at the sensation of him twitching inside of you, making your toes curl, “Y-You want me to ride you faster, hm?”

Venti gave a fervent nod, his hands gliding over every inch of your skin that he could reach, “P-Please, I’m s-so close, I- mmm, I need you (Y/N).”

Your fingertips traced his swollen lips for a moment before you leaned down to trap him in a heated kiss, grinding against him for some desired friction before breaking away to properly ride his cock. Placing your hands on his chest for stability, you quickened the pace that your hips slammed down on him, your tight hole seeking to milk Venti completely dry.

His almost helpless whimpers spurred you to go faster as he begged, “J-just like that, f-fuck- just like that. More, p-please please give me more-“

“F-fuck, Venti,” You found yourself whining as you worked your hips at a relentless pace, the wet squelching sounds of his cock pumping in and out of you mixing with the sounds of the wind that Mondstat was renowned for. Any other time you might have worried about anyone potentially wandering to the statue late at night and hearing the two of you, but at this moment you didn’t care. Venti was laid out so nicely in the statue's hands as you rode him with reckless abandon while chasing after your own orgasm, how could you stop now?

“(Y/N), s-so close, I’m so close,” Venti groaned, unable to hold himself back as he gripped you harder and timed his thrusts to match yours, making you roll your eyes back in ecstasy, “Where do you want me, my windblume?”

You were barely able to stutter out a reply, your nails digging into Venti’s chest as he worked himself deeper, “I-inside, I w-want you to cum inside.”

Venti grinned before his brows knitted together in concentration as he struggled to maintain his steady rhythm, his hips stuttering the closer he reached his climax. You weren’t much better off yourself, your resolve to tease Venti going out the window as his length hammered into you.

“Mmn, V-Venti, you’re s-so good to me, fuck,” You moaned as his hand buried itself into your hair, “I’m coming, c-coming-!”

The force of your orgasm made you clench around Venti’s cock as you trembled, rushing him towards his own orgasm as he whined your name while spilling into you. Panting heavily, Venti gently pulled your face down to kiss your lips, not bothering to pull out of you as his cum dribbled down his shaft and your thigh.

He looked dazed and completely fucked out as he stared at you, caressing your cheek with a lopsided grin, “W-Wow, you were amazing, Windblume.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, “I’ll say, it’s written all over your face, Venti. But you were pretty good yourself,” You wiggled your hips teasingly, drawing a hiss from the former Archon.

“S-Still sensitive,” Venti breathed, his hands moving to keep you still.

“So you don’t want to make the most of our time up here?” You hummed as a mischievous glint flashed in your eyes, “You usually have more stamina than this, Venti. If you just wanted a quickie, we could have done it in an easier place than in the hands of your statue.”

He pouted at your words, “What do you mean? You teased me for so long, it’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did!”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “I guess that means I can get off your cock and start getting dressed then?”

“…You’re more of a brat than I am,” Venti grumbled before rolling you underneath him. His eyes burned into yours as his thumb traced your bottom lip, “If you want to see how long I can really last, then you’ll get your wish.”

The look of determination on his face told you that it was his turn to make you a quivering mess. You were grateful that Venti had warmed the cold stone of the statue with his body, because you were in for a long night.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #genshin headcanon #venti #venti x reader #Venti smut #smut #not sfw

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lees-chaotic-brain · 14 days

Text

𝙵𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳 (𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄 𝙼𝙸𝚈𝙰 𝚇 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁)

summary: he overhears your friend saying something unkind

wc: 1.5k (oops this was supposed to be a drabble)

cw: mild swearing, reader has adhd, stigma against adhd

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“...What makes you think I wouldn’t lose it? I have the worst case of ADHD anyone has ever seen, you seriously think I’d be able to keep track of it?”

Your lighthearted laughter as you teased your friend floated over the din of the cafe as Osamu entered it, there to pick you up. Unable to tamp down his lovesick smile at the sound of your voice, he immediately perked up when he spotted you and began heading over to where you were sitting with your friends.

You had a little bit of trouble controlling your volume, so he had been able to hear what you were saying earlier, but since then you had gone weirdly quiet. But as he made his way over to you, he became close enough to catch the tail end of what your friend said in response.

“...I mean come on. You can’t just blame everything on your ADHD. Like, when are you going to actually take responsibility for your problems instead of using it as an excuse as if half the population doesn’t have it?”

He didn’t have to see your face to know what your expression looked like. Just like every other time someone said something shitty like that to you, he knew that the hurt would only show on your face for a moment before morphing into a sarcastic and uncaring mask.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your voice had lost its boisterous joy from moments ago, and that alone made him want to storm over there and tear that girl a new one. Unfortunately he was well aware of the fact that you preferred to fight your own battles, and loathed feeling like you needed some man to come in and defend your feelings.

“I’m just saying.” Your friend rolled her eyes. “You’re so put together, and one of the most intelligent people I know. When are you going to stop using your ADHD as an excuse for your terrible work ethic?”

While the first part of what she said sounded deceptively nice, the hidden connotations in the barbed sentence did not go over his head, so it most certainly did not go over yours. Remembering all of the nights he spent holding you as you cried because someone had called you lazy, or told you that you could do it if you just tried, he made a mental note to himself to remind you of how amazing you are every day. As if he didn’t already.

“Wow.” Your voice had taken on a mocking, almost cruel tone. While most people overhearing would think you’re just being really nasty, he knew better. This was how you protected yourself. You pretended you didn’t care and mocked the person for their ignorance, then went home and asked him to hold you until your heart stopped hurting and the voices in your head stopped talking.

You took a slow, leisurely sip of your drink, before slamming the cup back onto the table with more force than necessary. “For someone who claims to have undiagnosed ADHD, you sure don’t know anything about it. Just so you don’t embarrass yourself in the future by spewing more bullshit like this, let me give you a few pieces of information.”

Leaning back in your chair, you began ticking off items on your fingers as you spoke.

“One. Telling someone with ADHD to “just focus” is like telling a person with glasses to just see better. We want to, but we can’t.” You level a pointed look at her glasses and Osamu notes with satisfaction that her face is beginning to get flushed with embarrassment. You continue.

“Two. A lot of people with ADHD are actually insanely smart. They have to be. People in classes like ours who have ADHD and struggle with paying attention and staying on task need to be intellectually gifted to survive in school. It’s the only way they can keep up. Which brings us to point three.”

The overly sweet smile you give your so-called “friend” tells him that you’re about to say something you’ll regret later, but he can’t bring himself to stop you because anyone who hurt your feelings deserved what was coming for them. If that made him a bad boyfriend then he didn’t really care. He would just comfort you later and tell you that you aren’t a bad person for putting a judgemental asshole in their place.

“Point three: don’t go around telling people that you have undiagnosed ADHD. Like I said before, people with ADHD typically need to be smarter than the others in their class to keep up, especially in an engineering major. Which is exactly why no one is going to believe you. Frankly, you’re just not smart enough. You’re barely hanging on as it is. If you really did have ADHD you would have flunked out by now.”

Checking the time on your phone you gathered your stuff and stood up. “Sorry. My boyfriend is probably here by now. Although, something came up. I think you’ll need to find your own ride back. Sorry.”

Surveying the area where you had sat, you double checked to make sure you had everything, pausing and looking back over your shoulder just as you were about to leave.

“Oh, and by the way.” You shoot her a saccharine smile. “I really appreciate you thinking that I’m really put together. Unlike my intelligence, that’s all an act, so I’m really flattered that you thought that about me. It means a lot.”

With that, you turned and came face to face with your boyfriend's chest, nearly falling on your ass. One of his arms wound around your waist, pulling you against him and keeping you upright while the other snagged your bag and threw it over his shoulder.

“Samu?!” You look up at him in surprise and he just smirks and guides you out of the restaurant. Once you’re in the privacy of his car, you speak again. “...How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to hear the bullshit she spewed.” You look down, pretending to pick at your nails, but he knows you’re just trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“I really thought she was my friend.” Your voice is quiet and watery, completely different from the one you used with your friend just seconds ago in the cafe. “Maybe she’s right. I was probably too mean to her. I apologize to her-”

He was going to let you apologize, knowing that nothing he said would take away the guilt clawing at your insides, but then he saw the contact name.

“Her??” He pointed incredulously at the contact name. “The girl in there was her?? The one who was super mean to ya last year? I thought ya said ya weren’t friends with her anymore!”

Flushing, you tilt your phone away from him. “Well, I didn’t want you to worry. She got nicer, I swear.”

His eyes narrow. “Uh-huh. And what she said to ya back there definitely reflects just how much she’s changed.”

With a quick stretch of his arm, he snatched your phone out of your hand and slid it into his pocket, fending you off with one arm as he started the car and pulled out, causing you to cease your physical attempts at reclaiming your phone.

“Osamu Miya!! You give that back!! It’s not up to you who I’m friends with, and whether or not I apologize!”

“I know that.” He mumbles, keeping his eyes on the road. “I just don’t like seeing ya sad. And yer always sad when yer friends with assholes like her.”

“Oh, Samu…” Your voice softens and you take his free hand in your own. “I’ll be okay. Really. Honestly she’s probably trying to help me. She just wants me to fix what’s going on-”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” His knuckles turn white with how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel, but his grasp of your hand is nothing but gentle. “There’s nothing wrong with ya! She says shit like that and you believe her! Yer perfect the way you are, and I hate that you spend time with people who make you feel less than that! I don’t care who yer friends with. I just want them to treat you well. The way ya deserve.”

You deflate, your grip on his hand tightening and he sees you wiping your eyes out of his peripheral. “I know. I know you're right. Can we just...talk about this later? I just want to be sad right now."

'"Of course we can babe. We don't have to talk about it at all if you don't want to. I'm just not letting you apologize to her because she doesn't deserve it."

You laugh, and the sound does things to his heart. "I love you so much Samu. You know that, right?”

He squeezes your hand tightly, knowing that no matter what, the two of you would be okay because you had each other. “I know. And I love ya a million times more than that.”

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight

#lee's brain writes #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu x y/n #haikyuu fanfiction #fluff #i think??

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laurfilijames · 9 months

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Tan Lines

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader with skin tone able to tan (me, it's me.)

Words: 2,143

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Nudity. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse. Semi-public sex?

Summary: While enjoying a getaway at a lakeside cottage, Will becomes curious to see what tan lines the sun has marked on your skin and can't seem to control himself once he does.

A/N: I love summer and Ironhead almost equally (I love him more let's be real) and long for moments like this as I'm laying out sunning myself on my dock at the lake. This idea wouldn't leave me, and I'm trying to hold on to the last bits of summer and the extreme tan lines I've acquired myself, so here we are. ☀️ I wrote this purely for myself and my own enjoyment because I'm a selfish whore but wanted to share anyway and will write all future x female reader fics without specifying appearance as usual unless noted.

---

Will couldn't think of anything better; enjoying your little oasis in the slow, lazy heat of summer, just you and him.

Much to his surprise and relief, the lake was quiet, making it seem even more like it was only the two of you around, adding to the bliss and aiding in his ability to find his scarcely experienced relaxation.

Being here made him feel like he was finally able to shut his brain off, like he could focus on being with you and being fully present, with nothing to distract him from the attention he craved to give you.

The dock bounced under his weight as he pushed off it and dove into the water, the temperature feeling refreshing on his toasted skin.

Breaking through the surface, he ran a hand over his face and then up through his hair to make it stick up, watching you stretch out your limbs that were no doubt tired and achy from session after session of sex as you laid peacefully in the sun on your beach towel.

He tread water for a couple of minutes before deciding he had been away from you for long enough; your sun kissed skin and body barely covered in the flimsy material that made up your bikini tempting him once again.

You blew a long sigh out of your nose, feeling your body essentially melt into the hard dock beneath you, the high-noon sun warming every inch of you.

Will was trying to be quiet, but you could still hear the sound of the water lapping at his form and feel the dock dip as he began to climb up the ladder, and you shielded your eyes in order to better take in his sculpted muscles that glimmered in the sunlight as water ran down and accentuated them; the beams casting light onto every peak and creating shadows in every valley of his expertly carved flesh. A smile formed on your lips, not unable to match the one spread across his face, and you showed no shame in letting your eyes trail down his body to where his soaked trunks stuck to his vast thighs and showcased everything he had to offer.

His large frame stood in the way of the sun, obstructing you completely with his shadow.

"You're blocking my sun," you chided, a playful tone in your voice, causing him to cock an eyebrow at you.

Saying nothing, he knelt at your feet, crawling over top of you where water dripped all over your skin, the change in temperature feeling more drastic than it actually was because of how warm you were.

"Hi," he said, his voice raspy, his eyes dancing with mischief as he hovered above you.

"Hi," you replied, tilting your head slightly as you continued to smile. "Can I help you, Captain Miller?"

He chuckled and nodded his head, "I need to see these tan lines, sweetheart."

Will plucked the strap of your bikini, running his finger down the length of the one side, thinking how each thin panel was tied together by strings that held too much responsibility and threatened to expose you with something as simple as a single pull on them.

You moaned quietly as you squirmed to his gentle touch, your eyelids falling shut when he leaned down and pressed his mouth to your neck where your pulse hammered, your hands smoothing up his wet back that was still cool from the water.

Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the faint scent of coconut from the sunscreen he had carefully massaged onto you about an hour ago, his lips pressing more and more feverishly into your supple skin with each kiss.

A low growl rumbled through his chest as he settled himself on top of you, wedging your legs apart for him to lay between as he continued to kiss a path along your chest and up the column of your neck until he met your lips, his hips beginning to grind and slowly roll against yours.

You hummed into his mouth, relishing in the feel of his tongue moving with yours, tasting him as well as the freshness of the lake that clung to his beard.

His cock was already hard and pressing into you, awakening an arousal that never seemed to leave, your need for him only ever increasing the more you had him.

"I thought you wanted to see my tan lines?" you asked, pausing the action of your mouths.

"Hmm, you're distracting me," he scolded, supporting himself on one arm as he used the other hand to trace the outline of your top up to where it was secured with a bow at the nape of your neck.

Slowly, he tugged the end of it, the corner of his mouth creeping upward as he untied it, his eyes drifting down to your chest after having stared into yours intensely as he worked.

Will pulled each tiny triangle down in turn, exposing both of your breasts, his mouth watering and cock twitching at the contrast between your tanned skin and the places no one else had the privilege to see but him.

"God damn," he grunted, dipping his head back toward you so he could take one of your hardened nipples between his lips, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until your back arched up off the dock and he was able to tug at the other string and completely remove the garment from you. He directed his attention over to your other breast to equalize his worship, his growing moans and increase in the movement of his groin on yours indicating his approval, giving your nipple one last pass of his tongue as he grabbed at the flesh of your tit roughly before peeling his head away.

Staring at you almost venomously, his chest rose and fell sharply to display his barely-controlled desperation for you.

"Fuck me, you look good, baby," he muttered, his vibrant eyes flickering over all the parts of your body that his wasn't covering.

You smiled and wriggled beneath him, tucking your bottom lip in your teeth, waiting and silently begging him to unleash anything he wanted to on you.

His fingers toyed with the string on the side of your bottoms, and he smiled as he leaned down to kiss you, his playfulness showing through despite being on the border of becoming completely brutal.

"What's going on down here?" he asked between kisses.

You shrugged in response, looking at him innocently, making him shake his head before diving back to your lips where he kissed you intensely again.

You both laughed as he began unraveling one of the measly bows that kept your bottoms together, his teeth moving to graze over your lip and pull it between them as he moved his face to peer down at your hips.

"Looks like there might be some lines here, too," he purred, and your heart leapt at seeing how happy and excited he was although it was in his usual subtlety; his eyes bright and his cheeks creased from his smirk.

Leaving the one side undone, he kissed you again, this time slower like he was savouring you, his fingers carefully ghosting up your waist to make your side contract to the slight tickle of his touch, and he kissed you even deeper when you whined into his mouth.

Lost in his affection and feel of his weight laying securely over you, you didn't bother keeping track of where his hands were, indulging in having them roam all across your bronzed skin, his kiss enough to make your mind go blank. It wasn't until his hand cupped your partially-covered sex that you registered where he was touching you, making you press your mouth harder onto his in an attempt to signal your desperation for more.

Will was often generous, and today was no exception, feeling two of his long fingers slip between your folds to stroke you expertly, causing you to gasp out loud as your lips involuntarily left his.

"Look at you," he murmured, lust making his voice catch in his throat, "always wet and ready for me."

A guttural sound escaped him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the tips of his fingers massaging your g-spot with each pass, the ecstasy he was providing pulling you further and further away from any point of return.

Short, laboured breaths poured out of you as your mewling increased, giving warning of your fast-approaching orgasm, only to be halted when Will ceased his actions and chuckled with cruel amusement.

"Hang on, sweetheart."

Using the hand that had been working you, he shifted to tug his trunks down just enough to get his cock out, his face screwing up with restraint and his jaw setting tightly as he smeared your slick on his throbbing length with a couple of harsh jerks.

The sun light caught the drop of precum leaking out of the tip, the glimmer of it all too-appealing and making you far more needy for him to fill you than ever.

Thankful to not have to beg, Will lined up to your spread core and pushed inside you slowly, reaching your deepest point before dragging back out again to stretch your tight cunt, the sounds of his approval ringing in your ears as your bodies began to meld together.

A grueling, but vigilant pace was quickly chosen, one you knew wouldn't take long to send you both to the brink especially with the way he kissed you forcefully and gripped tightly onto your thigh to angle your leg up in order to pound you deeper.

"That feel good, baby?" he panted, parting from you to look down to see his dick pumping in and out of you, a lazy, pleased smile dressing his lips along with the moisture from your mouth.

"Fuck! Yes, Will!" you cried, your nails clawing at the back of his neck that was warmed from the sun.

Licking his lips, he dove back to meet with yours, his body rocking in time with the sway of the dock moved by the water, his tempo increasing in fervor when he felt you clench around him in an agonizing, pulsing pattern.

He held onto you as if you would float away, slamming into you with surety and purpose as you dragged him into the throes of the highest pleasure with you, filling your soaked pussy with shot after shot of his hot spend.

His stomach pushed down and retracted quickly on top of yours with his breaths as he came down, letting himself settle onto your body more as his hands moved up to cup the sides of your face, kissing you with a passion you couldn't imagine having to live without.

After a few minutes, he pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels while running a hand over his face and back through his hair to make it even more of a mess, giving you a view of his cock still dripping with cum and coated all the way down to its base with your cream.

He was a sight to behold, and you took care to drink him in, seeing his wheat-coloured pubes darkened and tangled from your wet, admiring the way his muscles looked both strong and fatigued as he recovered from his efforts.

He chuckled and flashed a crooked smile, catching you staring, but didn't rush to cover himself, instead yanking his trunks a little further down his powerful thighs.

Even he wasn't immune to the effects of the sun, having acquired a glow in spite of regimented applications of sunscreen, a stark line dividing his upper torso from where his golden hairs trailed down to paler skin, allowing you to feel the same sense of possessiveness he felt toward you in being the only one able to see what no one else could.

"Did you see enough of what you wanted?" he asked, adjusting his shorts to tuck his cock back in. "My ass is gonna get burnt."

You joined his laugh before embellishing your disappointment by sticking out your lower lip in a pout, "I'd be more than happy to rub some sunscreen on it," you offered, letting your hand trail up his abs that moved with his amusement.

"Oh, I bet you would be." His head nodded up and down as his eyebrows rose on his forehead, giving you a pointed look that made you melt every time.

"Join me for a dip?"

"Only if you lose your trunks," you countered, "It's not fair if I'm the only naked one."

He shook his head and huffed out a laugh as he stood and hooked his thumbs in his waistband, bending to peel them down to his ankles before standing proudly with his arms outstretched.

"Happy now?"

"Very."

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @glassgulls

#will miller #will 'Ironhead' miller #will miller smut #will miller x female reader #will miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #will miller fic #charlie hunnam

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