— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

Monika x GN reader

Everyday, I imagine a future where I can be with you….

The screen hurts your eyes. It burns them. You’ve been looking at it for hours. Scrolling through pictures, so many pictures. All of them used to bring you such joy but now, looking at the person in them only brought you to tears. After all, you were looking at a person who no longer existed.

It had been two days since the accident. The funeral was still being planned. Some people came to check on you, but others guessed that you didn’t want to see anyone. Which was true. The only person you wanted to see was (s/o’s name). Your beloved s/o….

S/o, who would soon be buried in the ground.

The worst part of it all was how out of nowhere it was. You’d had no time to prepare, no time to come to terms with their death. Two days ago the world made sense. S/o was still alive, and you were so happy. You wish you had told them not to go to work. You wish you had told them to stay home. Why hadn’t you suggested they just walk to their job? There were so many things you could have done to stop it, but now it was too late.

Not even they had expected it. In a sick way, it was almost funny. Your s/o, who had driven perfectly all their life, never even gotten a speeding ticket, killed in a freak driving accident. They did nothing wrong, it wasn’t their fault a glitched red light on the other side turned green. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t see the car coming from the otherside. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t have enough time to stop the car.

Once again, you turned your weary eyes back to the pictures of you and your s/o on the screen. You had been strolling through memory lane for almost the whole day. All of the sudden, a sound broke through the silence of your room. An eerily cheery theme played from your bright computer.

“Doki Doki~ <3”

You must have accidentally loaded up your new game, Doki Doki Literature club. You had only played a little, mainly because your s/o often teased you about replacing them with a computer girlfriend. You had suspected they were even a little jealous of a character in the game, Monika. The moment you saw her she instantly became your favorite. Your s/o must have felt a bit flustered at your liking of the game character, because whenever your character had a moment with Monika your s/o would come over and try to distract you slightly.

You needed a distraction, and you had enjoyed the game well enough. So you clicked back into your save, and were greeted by the familiar characters. You were only on day 3, and we're a bit disappointed. You kept changing who you wrote for, because all you really wanted to talk to in the game was Monika. You kept hoping she had a hidden route you didn’t know of yet.

* Okay everyone! Time to share our poems.

You talked to Natsuki, then Yuri, Sayori, and finally Monika. The rest of the girls had talked about what they thought about your writing, either complimenting it, or gently giving criticism. However, Monika seemed a bit different. She said your poem was fine, but immediately switched the topic, which surprised you.

* Are you alright Y/n?

You answered yes to her question, trying to keep at least your game persona happy.

* Are you sure? It’s just, you seem a little sad recently. Did something happen?

Your eyes began to water. You knew in your heart that this was probably just programmed in the game as a kind of check in. Monika was the tutorial character, so the creators had probably given her this dialogue to make their audience feel better about whatever depressing feelings they had been having. Monika wasn’t made to make you feel better about your s/o’s death. But it was nice to imagine she knew.

* I’m sorry if I’m pushing too hard Y/n. I just really care about you. I- I have something to tell you.

The Monika sprite was now blushing. Ah, makes sense. This was a romance game, even a character without a route had to be in love with the MC. You sighed, and rolled your eyes slightly. Whatever comfort you might have gotten from Monika was ruined. She wasn’t your s/o. Having a game character confess to you wasn’t going to make you feel better.

Was it your imagination, or did the Monika sprite just change without you doing anything. It must have been some kind of timed thing. Her sprite now looked a bit flustered, but mostly nervous. It wasn’t what you expected out of a confession.

* Nevermind Y/n. It’s not important. Just know I’m always here for you. If you ever feel overwhelmed, make sure to just hit the brakes for a little while, okay?

…

What?

Are you kidding me?

Out of all the things she could have said? “Hit the brakes”?!

You ignored the rational part of your mind that told you she was programmed to say that no matter what. You threw your head between your knees and began to sob.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Monika silently cursed at herself through the screen. Seeing you sobbing through the monitor camera made her heart break in two. Once again, she cursed her low self control. She couldn’t help making the joke. She never liked your s/o to begin with. But she wasn’t planning on getting rid of them. Just to replace them. She would make you fall in love with her, and then you wouldn’t even want to be with your s/o. She didn’t want any blood on her hands unless she was forced to. It was only when she had realised they were trying to distract you from her.

Monika had tried to justify herself before it happened. Two days ago, she went through your partner’s account on the computer she lived in. Monika found nothing, but had convinced herself what she was doing was right.

To Monika, everything was a red flag. Your s/o’s friendly texts with their bff had to be cheating. When your partner talked about finances with their parents, Monika just knew they were using you for their money. But deep down, Monika knew her true reason. All over their account, they had so much proof they loved you. They would take you away forever. Monika couldn’t let that happen.

It was hard for her AI to hack the traffic lights. But Monika’s passion fueled her, and eventually she figured out how to get everything just right. Changing the light's color became child play. In truth, your partner’s death was just a well timed coincidence. Monika had something else planned for your s/o, but the opportunity came up that morning too perfect for Monika to pass up.

Monika once again turns her attention back to your sobbing form through the screen. She was almost scared of all the emotions running through her. Guilt, fear, love, passion, jealousy, sadness. Such a combination of emotions, like nothing she had ever felt before. Her world was so much bigger now that you were in it, and she wasn’t going to let that change. She had gotten rid of her biggest threat to you, and now she wasn’t afraid to do anything to keep you anymore. It was going to be just you and her, and if the other girls got in the way she would have no problem disposing of them.

Monika’s darkest truth is that she was proud of what she did. She loved you deeply, and getting rid of the threat gave Monika a strange sense of pride. That’s really why she made that joke. In a way, Monika was taunting your dead partner. She had almost won, she was so close.

You got up for a few moments to close out of the game, but it didn’t matter. She was always watching you. She would make you log back in again. She would make you love her just as much as she loved you.

Monika smiled darkly to herself, deleting half the photos you had of your s/o. Monika paused for a moment on a picture of you smiling widely at the camera.

* Don’t worry Y/n. They won’t be much more than a memory soon.

* My love will heal you, my dear. It will lift us both high into the clouds. I will never let you go. Ever.

* I didn’t want it to be this way. But they forced my hand. It feels bad now, but soon it won’t.

* I promise you won’t even remember them. They won’t even be a thought in your mind. It will just be me.

* JUST MONIKA

Monika saved the picture of you to her files, humming a tune she had been working on just for you.

Everyday, I imagine a future where I can be with you….

#151 Lawlight

Achromatic

Light has been told his whole life that meeting his soulmate would change the way he sees the world. Well that is true, but he’d much prefer if everything had just stayed black and white.

Trying to find this post I started yesterday and it was really good 😭 Nanami wanted an arranged marriage and he asked Gojo for help but he ended up falling for the person who arranged the marriages instead. Please I’m praying on y’all

caught with them (; — hashira men

Author’s Note: mostly humorous, but ~a lil steamy. 😉 Update: some are def steamier than others. 😅

caught with them (; — hashira men

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~1,500

CW: 18+NSFW, accidental v!yeurism, cream!pie, dark humor, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Hi T! May I please request an emergency request (I'm  getting surgery on Thursday and I’m a bit stressed) can you please write funny nsfw headcanons where all the male hashira ( except Muichiro) making love to their fem s/o and all of a sudden she calls out ,“Daddy!”, And the guys think she’s being kinky and they were getting so into it but then with her serious demeanor they stopped and turned to find out it was actually their s/O’s Dad who came in to visit? Please and thank you.

~faqs~

Keep reading

fuck me like i’m famous

popstar! rafayel x female reader

in theory, attending your favorite popstar’s after party seems a dream come true. for you, it certainly is. in reality, though? it doesn’t live up to it- at least not innocently.

content popstar! rafayel, nsfw, smut, dubcon, fingering, disillusion, mc learns why idolizing celebrities isn’t wise (by being banged by one during his afterparty), yandere & obsessive undertones, 18+ characters

sidenote hrm… was supposed to be a lil drabble but it snowballed into almost 5k words. hopefully the fishie girlies will like this lil meal tho since he’s kinda a rare sight on the blog 💔 rafayel is freaked the fuck out in this deadass... also i literally had nothing better to name this but i believe chase atlantic kinda fits raf’s vibes here so :,] OH & THANK U FOR 600 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YALL ♡♡♡

Lights glitter on his face in the after party.

You don’t know what you did to earn God’s favor in this life, but whatever the reason, you’re thankful for scoring yourself that ticket. He’s all you listen to; a staple to each of your playlists. And so for what Thomas did- gifting you a special pass he had as an extra to your favorite popstar’s show- you’re ever in his debt.

He might be his publicist; that spare ticket may mean nothing to him. Alright, but-

It might as well mean the whole world to you.

Girls crowd his spot on the couch. It’s decadent: the room bathed in dim, yellow lights as the drinks, generously taken from, sparkle on the table before it. He kicks his long legs out on it and stretches an arm behind the woman at his side. She’s beautiful, scantily clad, all of them are- some curled up to his shoulder, others drunkenly twirling around the room- and because of it, you feel a little out of place.

In jeans and a band tee, you weren’t prepared.

Not for this.

One part of you is positively gushing at the scene that unfolds around you, deciding you could die in peace now that you’d finally experienced one of his concerts, especially in such an exclusive way. Still, another part of you, dwelling low in your belly, twisting like a bad gut feeling, quietly thinks, Has Thomas mistaken me for a whore? Perhaps it’s wrong to think that of those girls... But you also don’t believe they’d take any real offense to that if they were to hear your internal back-and-forth, because they seem delighted to put on their shows for him.

They can’t be blamed, right? I mean… It’s him. Rafayel. Everybody and their mom would trip over their own two feet trying to get an audience with him.

Still.

You ball your fists in your lap.

A-Are you even meant to be here?

Rafayel was always bold on camera, yes; flirtatious to a fault. Sure, he was a playboy and you were aware of that, the whole community was. Really, it was integral to his charm.

But this—

One of the girls giggles when she stumbles over her high heels and into Rafayel’s lap. It’s convenient. Too convenient: even if she’s only half aware of her surroundings, in for a bad hangover tomorrow morning, she still manages to go flying right towards him. You know the purple-haired man must be aware of it too, her frolicking stunts.

Nonetheless, he catches her in his arms before she topples, and he laughs, too.

It’s a pretty sound. Then again, everything about him is. With his dyed, lavender curls and the softness to his otherwise coy face, the little moles dusting it and his glossy, pink lips— he’s beautiful. All the more in that outfit. Cheeky but not enough as to be scandalous. His stylist and his designer have your applause. Clearly, they know what they’re doing.

On stage, he’d seemed playful, but was able to keep his gallivanting at bay. With a wink, though, all that sex appeal just oozes out, and—

It’s weird. How you can spend so much weeks and months and years idolizing somebody, and then suddenly have all that worshipful intent collapsing in a breath. Within the span of not even an hour, you’ve become so disillusioned with this celebrity- your all time favorite- that you can hardly bear to look at him and his wanton display.

Sat on the armchair opposite of it all as it takes place, deathly quiet, you begin to feel sick.

Is this really him?

You knew he was a flirt, yes, but- but what the hell is even this? Is this what he demeans himself to after each show? Just some cheap manwhore with his hand-selected throng of groupies, sipping away at an expensive wine just moments after he set the mic aside after a love song you’d thought to be heartfelt—

Your glass, the one a suited man offered on a tray and you took only to mimic the others, remains untouched before you.

This is startling. And far from your preferred scene.

M-Maybe you ought to go home. And soon. Is what you’ve been thinking for closer to thirty minutes now, and yet you’re too nervous to speak on it. I mean, maybe if you just stood up and left, nobody would notice your slipping out— the room is far from bright and everybody’s buzzed on something, anyway—

Marbled, coral-blue eyes stare at you over the rim of his glass, and they glint with something you think is mirth.

Curiosity, alongside it.

It makes you second guess yourself. Taking your leave.

He’s been watching you for a while now. Even when the stunning women gather in a flurry around him, tugging on his hair and teasing with whispering breaths in his ear, his attention doesn’t remain on them for long. It drags back to you and, for all the distractions occuring around you (the stereo playing an all too familiar song, the drunken chatter, the unease in your chest), he’s impressively focused.

It’s unnerving. It’s divine. He’s all you listen to in the car and in the shower and in your bedroom when you’re dancing to his newest album in an oversized sleep shirt and panties. You’ve cried to him and laughed to him and now he’s here, in shocking clarity, and you were so so excited, rambling about it to your girlfriends for months, but now you’re not so sure of what you’re seeing. If you like it.

He seems less god to you, now; oh, still heavenly, still angelic, for sure, but he toes more along the line of something wicked— like a cherub fallen.

And you can’t find it in you to get up and scurry out even when that’s all you can picture yourself doing in your head, escaping.

When you catch his eye again, you dip your chin (not out of reverence, no longer, but rather unease) and bite on your lip until you taste blood.

So when he lifts his hand with a snap then, the girls pouting as they crawl off him, dissipating no different than fog- you’re ever thankful for the opportunity to finally get up and leave, too—

A voice chimes over itself, layering over the familiar song playing in the background.

“Hey- wait up, cutie.”

You pause when you belatedly realize it’s calling for you.

As if your legs are stilts, you turn around hesitantly (strange: because really, shouldn’t you be happy he’s noticed you?) and try to lessen the shock on your face- even though his amused little smile tells you it’s as clear as day.

He laughs pleasantly, playful to a fault.

“What’s that silly face for? Oh, IIIIIII see, you’re feeling a lil left out, is my guess. Here,” he pats the cushion beside him and you actually blanche. For a moment you think your heart has stopped beating and those thumps you hear are the drum beats in his song as it drifts through the now empty room.

Save for you and Rafayel, it’s completely barren; the better part of its energy has left with the dancing girls but whatever remains of it, he holds.

You eye the spot beside him, unmoving.

An excuse, you realize right then— you can still spit out an excuse.

“I-I’m not one of the girls,” you stammer with a wince before clearing your throat, “I- I don’t even think I’m really supposed to be here.”

Another laugh, and a dismissive wave of his hand. You try to make yourself laugh too if only to appease him, your idol- endlessly nervous.

“Oh, well that’s just untrue,” he teases. “C’mon, don’t be shy~! I was just playing around with the others. It’s just you and me now, so no need to feel all nervous,” he assures, the image of harmless as he crosses his leg over the other and waits.

You blink rapidly. “I—“

You’re about to spew out a feeble rejection and that’s when his face drops.

You’re not sure, for all the records and posters and billboards you’ve seen of his face, if he’s ever made that expression. Not on camera, at least.

He lowly murmurs, “Aren’t you a fan?”

“I-…. Well-….”

A fan? For years now! His number one! A stupid girlish voice in the corner of your mind shrieks, and you almost dredge some joy out of this whole thing.

Letting out a shaky sigh, defeated, you creep over to him on equally shaky legs and take the spot beside him— all with great hesitance, though.

His pretty face alights again. Some of the pressure loosens up, even if only by a little, and your shoulders relax by a smidge.

Maybe it’s fine. Maybe you’re crazy and this is how he interacts with all his listeners no, no it’s not. Or maybe this is just a normal, celebrity thing and you’re blowing this way out of proportion here.

Just like he did with that other woman- that other likeminded fan or plaything or- or you don’t know- he loops an arm around the back of the couch behind you.

…What’s different, though, is that, unlike with her, he rests his hand on your shoulder and hugs you closer to his side. Clinging.

Rafayel smiles. Charming. Frivolous. With a glint in his eye, intense and engrossed, that’s weirdly sober when taking the half empty drink he sets down on the table into consideration.

“There. Good girl. So tell me, pretty,” he starts thoughtfully, fingertips twirling your hair as he leans into you. For the popstar that takes very little seriously, you think he appears awfully interested in some no-name girl who happened to score herself a limited-time lanyard to see him sing.

You swallow thickly. In the back of your mind, thoughts race. So does your heart. You might explode.

H-He didn’t act like this with the others— did you somehow present yourself in a way that made him think he could take more than what the others let him? More than what the others practically begged him to, but for some fucking reason he wouldn’t—

“Did you like the show?”

“Y-Yeah.” You don’t mean to whisper, but a certain, resigned silence is what you’ve been reduced to. His other hand stretches across his body to rest on your thigh.

Rafayel hums. But before he can speak, you- rudely, might he add- cut in. “I- I have to go home soon, so-“

Amused, he snorts. “Relax, alright? Tonight, you’re a very important person, aren’t you? Home can wait,” he muses, so close he’s near nuzzling your cheek.

A very important person? Funny. You’re just another fool bouncing around amongst the nosebleeds- a face he’ll be hard-pressed to catch and certain to forget. Honestly? This whole facade of his is as cruel as it is unbelievable.

Gradually, he’s letting you down.

Your throat bobs. Almost a bit bitterly, you remind, “I- I know you’re a popstar, but we’re still strangers. You don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me or be nice to me.”

“Huh. You’re one smart cookie,” he wryly comments before giving his head a tiny shake, almost more to himself than to you. “Um, look, cutie, you’re definitely no stranger to me,” his words leave you dazed because they sound genuine. You snap your head up to look at him, needing to gauge his expression and fish for deceit. You… find none.

He smoothly continues. “But I guess I’m no stranger to you either, huh? And tonight, you’ll be like, extra acquainted with me.”

✦

It’s difficult.

-When he’s hovering over you and gently pushing you onto the plush cushions into a half-lying position, to not only push him off but find the strength to.

Physically, Rafayel’s no hulking display of power, but he’s intimidating all the same. Mentally, he’s more or less your idol and although he may not hold too much weight in stature (still, he’s stronger than you), he still holds enough golden trophies to decorate a shelf— and too much influence for you to really comprehend.

Or try to toy with.

…You should want this. Should want to lie down and offer yourself up to him with eagerness— it should be like a blessing and yet you’re hesitating.

…Why are you hesitating? A voice in the back of your head, the one that had raved endlessly to her friends about the upcoming concert, asks perplexedly. You’ve no answer. But the man atop you seems to wonder much of the same, too; his brow twitching just slightly with what you think to be dejection before he tilts your chin with long, slim fingers to kiss you and it’s gone.

He moans into that first kiss. Prettily and soft.

Heat flutters in the core of you, your body involuntarily responding to him even as your eyes snap open and shift to where the door is- or where you think it is (have the lights gotten dimmer? or is he just all you see?)- his palm tugging at your hair softly to lie you down.

His lips are plump, pink, just as gentle as they look as they meld against yours— definitely aroused, there’s no doubt there, his warm breaths tinged with needy whines- but there’s an odd affection in them, too. Something personal and doting.

When he tries to slip in tongue, you reel away but there’s nowhere to go. Not really. Not when your head finally touches the cushion and he lets out a small, disapproving sound before giving up on that goal- for now- and attacking your neck instead.

It’s good. Delicious; that perfect mouth knows its way around a mic and a lover, you suppose- suckling and kissing and nipping with the barest amount of teeth as if he’s intent on leaving a mark.

You can’t hold back on it anymore— you drop your hands that had been hovering awkwardly on his broad shoulders, mewling in response, and he shivers.

“Yeah, cutie, make some noise,” he chuckles mildly. You think back to the auditorium. The roaring cheers and shrieks, the phone lights waving in the air and the mist rolling beneath his feet as he sang.

His hand descends down your belly, and you’re brought back to now.

It’s more instinct than anything that has you clamping your legs shut as soon as his fingers reach the denim. He tuts at you, and yet the glimmer in his eye is… endeared, almost.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t shut me away now,” Rafayel scolds, thought it lacks any real bite. Still, your lashes flutter and you stare agog at him.

Like this, he’s positively gorgeous as he props himself up mere inches away- albeit his little grin can almost be considered vulpine. “Didn’t I put on a great show for you out there? Don’t tell me I get nothing in return,” he pouts, tone light but what lies under it is a layer of desire. Opaque and thick.

Hesitantly, you mull over his words. I mean, you just really want this to be over- so to hell to with it, maybe you should just submit yourself. The sooner you appease the playboy with what he wants— that is, some nameless girl he perceives as cheap enough to get on her back for him— the sooner you can leave and pretend Thomas never gave you his special ticket.

The popstar’s words turn comforting as he watches you carefully. “If you’re shy, don’t worry. I’ve seen it plenty’a times before, you know.”

Bigheaded, you think then. Bigheaded but he has every right to be.

Maybe if it was any other guy bragging about the chicks he fucked and scrutinized, you’d throw up in your mouth— and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t cringe a little on the inside— but it’s embarrassment for yourself above all that stirs in your stomach. It joins the butterflies as your cheeks warm over.

“Now,” he continues, his familiar lilt flattening into heavy, breathy lust, “All I want is to see yours. I’m sure your pussy is pretty, cutie- really,” he convinces.

A tremble. “So pretty.”

Oh, you’re erupting on the inside— heart snapping like a snare drum in your chest, overpowering the faint music and drowning it out- your hand shaking where it weakly closes over the back of his own, now only half trying to drag it away.

He hammers the last nail into your coffin. With a ragged, but gentle breath and- as he leans in- a surprisingly chaste peck to your lips, appreciative of what he has before him.

“Won’t you show me it?”

But jaw slack, you hesitate. And- Of course you hesitate. The reasons for your deliberation, that weird gut feeling, become clearer and clearer as seconds progress:

Firstly, he’s the image of fame- and if you were to deny him, if he said the smallest word over it, your whole entire social life as you knew it would backfire on you. The possibility of his saying mean things on the internet hangs in your mind. Rumors circulating, as untrue as they are vivid, coming to bite you in the ass. For as many hours as you’ve spent watching and listening to Rafayel, you don’t know his true colors (as evidenced by right now); that includes what a wounded ego would look like if you rejected him.

Secondly, you hesitate because—

Because he’s perfect. Much like an idol on a pedestal, carefully set there with a singular light overhead to define him and him alone.

In a dark room, all look to him.

Once- an hour ago- you did, too.

Maybe you still do. You don’t know. There’s a whole bunch of feelings (confusion, awe, a betrayal that makes you question just how parasocial your relationship with him was) swirling inside you, none able to be grazed or grasped, and it shakes a part within.

“Please?” He breathes, ever headstrong.

…Your rationale is headlong, falling into the abyss with a word.

“O-Okay,” you all but squeak out. It’s the best you can manage. Rafayel’s breath hitches at that, though, your given assent, no matter how feeble, planting satisfaction deep in his chest.

And so with that he’s swiftly undoing your jeans and rucking them down your thighs.

It’s less out of good will that you help him shimmy them off you, to a bunch above your shoes, and more so eagerness to be done with this whole thing.

When he tucks his knuckles beneath the waistband of your panties- cutesy cotton put on full display for him, perched above pretty thighs- he curses under his breath.

His hands are as big as a man’s but as soft as a woman’s. His fingertips are dutiful as they brush along your folds, as singleminded, hungry, as the former.

…But when they nudge between your pussy lips and at your tight hole, his thumb prodding expertly at your clit, it’s like he has all the awareness of the latter.

“Ah, you’re so wet…” he muses aloud. Very pleased with his discovery.

His eyelids, dazzling with some glittery shade his makeup artist applied prior to his show, droop and don’t meet your flustered stare as he focuses on the space between your legs. And he takes it upon himself to rid you of your panties, too: for as adorable as they are, Rafayel knows it’ll be ten times better for you both if he can just-

Finally fucking see for himself what you’ve got goin’ on down there—

Undies midway down your leg, he comments, “you’re really hyped up after the show, huh?” His exhale is a shaky sound. His gaze is utterly fascinated (and perhaps a touch unnerving, what with its intensity) when it bounces back to that soft dip below your belly.

You’ll give him this much credit— for as wild as that glint in his unblinking stare becomes, he’s fortunately gentle with you.

He wets his lip absently. “Yeah… it gets me going, too. All the lights and cheering faces... Feeling the bass vibrate up from the floor. Can I be honest, though, cutie? When Thomas- oh, shit-“ he shivers when he inserts a digit in- his pointer one- and your hole instinctively clamps down around it, juices glistening to the base of his knuckle as you try not to squirm.

Y-You can’t believe this is happening. Your clothes are all in a disarray- the only piece intact, actually, is your tee that just so happens to be merchandise of the popstar that hovers over you now with his hand between your legs—

You blink back to real life when he sharply inhales.

“…When Thomas told me you were comin’, I made absolute sure to know your standing. That way, I could find you easily in the crowd. I was gettin’ so worked up just looking at you. Could you hear it-? My voice began to shake.” he chuckles, voice euphony to your ears. Familiar in its lilt but not in its timber.

His words stun you. They don’t make sense- is this is all some cruel, sick game after all-? Or- Or maybe he’s mistaking you for someone else? or he’s just choosing a really weird, admittedly screwed up way to let off some steam. God knows, what with his recent album built on the back of unrequited love, he needs the stress relief—

But no. He continues on like nothing is amiss, like your heart doesn’t plummet to the tips of your toes at his offhanded admission, and you forget how to breathe.

“When our eyes met- you looked like you were doubting yourself, but I really was staring at you, you silly girl.” Again, he’s fucking laughing, albeit this time, it takes on a more self-deprecating tone. You witness, almost unseeing, as his facade crumbles in increments. More and more he undoes it by the seams- much like he is with you.

“I was… Hm. I was even singing about you. All those stupid pining love songs— who do you think they’re for, princess?”

A gasp punches out from your lungs. You don’t know what it’s for- his nonsensical confessions, or his handling as he stuffs in another finger (you could’ve used some more working up to it, sure, he knows, but he’s a little impatient tonight) and scissors you open.

Wet shlicks ring in between guitar riffs. Your essence flows all over his knuckles and the numerous- horrifically expensive, you realize- jewels lining them. Rafayel doesn’t seem nearly as appalled as you do, though... If anything, aroused.

It feels so good. He’s hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. It’s a surreal experience, so much so you almost feel like you’ll coalesce into a dream at any moment. The melody playing in the background, the opulent couch as it groans beneath you with every piston of his arm, the twinkling, but dim lights and his face. That picturesque, idol face.

“Here, I’ll tell you the answer…” he leans over you to whisper in your ear, subjecting you to all the charm of a siren. You’re helpless to it ‘cause you’re just a girl.

“You. Always you.”

You’re dizzy. Your head is light but your lower half is heavy, the inner portion of your thighs numbed and sticky. Your limbs tingle but all you can feel is his lips tenderly suckling at your neck and your gushing walls as they constrict around their intruder.

Though they, too, ease up on him. He’s good at disarming you. That’s how you were walking in here, anyway, disarmed and beyond yourself with excitement.

Rafayel moans over you, finding a great amount of pleasure in the whole ordeal.

“You gonna cum? yeah?” He’s sweet, purring in your ear, making sounds as pretty as a girl- maybe even more so. His voice has won awards for a reason. You recall binging musical ceremonies on the internet and shrieking as soon as his name was called to stage, his seeming nonchalance as he accepted an accolade…

Yet you saw his ears, too, the tips of them red under the resounding applause, and wondered just what or who it was that had him bowing his head to the camera—

“A-Ah, mmph- Rafayel, please—!” You choke, fingers curling into his shoulder. In response, he lets out a pleasured, breathy sound, all encouragement and delight in his eyes.

“Mhm. Go ahead. Cum. Cum, pretty girl, all over my fingers. Oh- I really wanna taste you- will y’let me taste you afterwards?” He’s moaning unabashed as you come undone at warp speed. It’s shameful and your cheeks toast over but you clamp your eyes shut and choose to bask in the feeling of it all as it overwhelms you.

He’s good. So good. Masterful with it, really. Not like any of the bungling guys who courted you for all of one date (the more patient: two) before ripping your pants off and sticking their fingers inside without prompting or even half the skill to back their confidence.

No- he’s every bit qualified and then some.

Your nails dig into his clavicle. Rafayel doesn’t care- if that pinch of pleasure between his brow is the least bit credible, maybe he even likes the sting.

“Good girl. There, good girl.”

It’s building inside you. He works you up progressively, rapidly, and it shows in the little gasps you make that fall back to back, the L shape you make with either of your legs as they hitch up around his hips and quake, the ball in your gut that suddenly hardens before—

“Ngh— Rafayel-!”

You scream. Louder than the music. Louder than his words of encouragement, sugar-sweet, hungry, susurrating as they spill in your ear. He sensually nibbles on it and wraps his free hand around your head- with a misplaced affection, you think- to anchor you throughout your climax. He manages to keep you grounded there on the couch but only barely.

Your mind does slip off to another place, though, floating in white oblivion for a number of seconds as your limbs offer small trembles.

Rafayal takes close to nothing serious. So the light, but bubbly laugh that draws you back to consciousness with a sigh is fairly appropriate.

What isn’t is his touchiness as he drags you to sit on his lap— boneless; your skin damp with heat, your damned pants still cuffed awkwardly around your ankles— and croons into your neck. Holding you close like a lover would in the after glow. But this isn’t the after glow, this is the after show. But then again, if his earlier words were true- the ones that barrel back into you with clarity, the haze dissipating- then…

But no. No, how could that be? Those songs aren’t about you— and when you met his eye during the opening, and all the times afterward, you were sure it was just your imagination, especially after the fan beside you threw up her arms and cheered as if his stare was for her instead—

You might know Thomas (very vaguely- more of a friend of a friend you’ve seen at a few get-togethers; you follow him on insta), but that doesn’t mean Rafayel, the man he works for, should know you... I mean, you doubt they hang out often, anyway. Especially not since Thomas would more or less be viewed as the king of no-fun in the popstar’s eyes.

His whole job is to assure that Rafayel keeps his lips sealed tight: you can’t imagine that he’d be loose with his own by chatting with him about you, a girl he’s not all too familiar with but knows just enough to throw a spare ticket at.

So there’s just no way any of this is true.

Half of you expects Rafayel to shove you off his lap at any second, snap back to the reality that you’re not the woman he mistook you for, and flusteredly point you to the door. The other half of you is like it’s waiting for him to pull out his cock (it stirs underneath your ass, hard and by the feel of it, very excited) and take all that’s left to.

He moves your hair aside your shoulder and rubs along your back, instead.

And he whispers in your ear (or into your neck, really), his warm breath fanning there as he says like it’s a vow:

“Wanna see you at my next show. Better be there.”

Your throat bobs. As he speaks, you try not to focus too much on the fluid that oozes from your pussy lips and onto his expensive, designer slacks- but that’s no easy task when he seems to want for that, slightly lifting his hips up.

“No. Before that, even—“ he pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought before smiling, resolved. “Oh, I know- I’ll have Thomas help get you settled in with the tour bus. That way, you can just be on the road with me.”

You gawk. Whatever he’s saying doesn’t reach you; you’re only receiving that garbled bits of it, like a radio interpolated by static between voices. Your palms lift to his chest and push there softly.

Smoothly, he takes them in his own and kisses the knuckles, peering up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, giggling.

“Doesn’t that sound just great, cutie?”

“I- wait, you-?”

“I’ll name my next song after you- my next album, even!- and then we can go public immediately.” You can recognize it for what it is, even coming from someone as frivolous as him.

A promise.

“The fans will love you,” he says excitedly before leaning in and smushing a kiss to your damp hairline, murmuring there with a fiery tinge of what you think is devotion. “But not as much as I already do.”

He fishes into his pocket, then, one hand still securing your waist.

“Lemme give Thomas a call… I guess he kinda deserves my ‘thank you’, too, huh?”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

~ For you to access all works easily! ~

📔 Oneshots 📔

• Just your heartbeat (Arthur x Doctor!AU femReader) • Like a date? (Arthur x MageApprentice!AU femReader)

• Surprise! (Arthur x femReader) • One wish (King of Chaos Arthur x femReader)

• An unexpected encounter in the night (Vampire!AU King of Chaos Arthur x femReader)

📝 Small scenarios 📝

• Arthur Pendragon cuddling with his S/O • Arthur Pendragon with his S/O sitting on his lap • Arthur Pendragon finding his S/O unconscious

• King of Chaos Arthur laying in bed with his S/O

🧡 Arthur headcanons 🧡

• Arthur and Escanor interactions headcanons • Arthur Pendragon cuddling headcanons • Arthur Pendragon anxious headcanons • Arthur Pendragon using Chaos • Merlin's mother instincts with Arthur • Arthur Pendragon as a father • Arthur Pendragon with a doting S/O • Arthur Pendragon with a strong S/O • Arthur Pendragon with a S/O who gives him handmade bouquets of flowers • Arthur Pendragon taking his S/O to a ballroom dance • Arthur Pendragon dating headcanons • Arthur Pendragon with a shy S/O who won't ask for hugs straightforward • Arthur Pendragon with a S/O who controls the wind • Arthur Pendragon after the Cath incident • Arthur Pendragon with an equally energetic S/O • Arthur Pendragon reacting to his S/O wearing his clothes • Soft mornings with Arthur Pendragon • Arthur Pendragon and his S/O being soft together • Random Arthur Pendragon fluff headcanons • Arthur Pendragon with a S/O who is a blacksmith • Arthur Pendragon with a sick S/O • Arthur Pendragon having a crush on Merlin's student • King of Chaos Arthur reacting to his S/O joining Percival • Jealous King of Chaos / Arthur Pendragon headcanons • Arthur Pendragon with a S/O who lost a family member • King of Chaos / Arthur Pendragon reacting to his S/O being injured • Arthur Pendragon and his S/O comforting each other • Arthur Pendragon comforting his S/O during an anxiety attack

• Arthur Pendragon reacting to Kay flirting with his crush

• Arthur Pendragon having fun in the castle's garden

• High school Au!: Student council president Arthur and his close friends

• Arthur Pendragon as a stepfather

🦁 Escanor headcanons 🦁

• Arthur and Escanor interactions headcanons

🔮 Merlin headcanons 🔮

• Merlin's mother instincts with Arthur

✨ General headcanons ✨

• NNT characters in a pillow fight

Imagine you and Mark broke up because he still had lingering feelings for Eve. So now you're sitting in your dorm room late at night when...

"(Y/N)?" A familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. You put your phone down and move from your bed. You hesitate to open the door. Not because you don't want to see the person on the other side, but because it's really late and usually Mark taps on your window or texts you first.

"(Y/N), are you in there?" Mark asks. "Please, I...I need to see you. I need to know you're okay." Your heart shatters at the desperation in his voice. You reach for the doorknob and open your door.

"Mark?" The lightning in the hallway is dim, but you can tell that your ex-boyfriend is wearing his hero suit. You quickly pull him into your room and lock the door.

"What is wrong with you?" You ask. "What if someone saw you?" He doesn't answer. Instead he pulls you into a tight hug.

"Oh god, you're okay," He says. His voice was barely above a whisper. "You're safe." You reluctantly wrap your arms around him. You've seen Mark cry before, but never like this.

"Yes, I'm safe," You tell him. "But what are you doing here?" Before he can answer, your window shatters. Your pushed to the ground and your ex-boyfriend is pinned against the wall.

"Mark!" You exclaim. You rub your head, and your eyes try to adjust to the dark scene. Mark was being pinned to the wall by...Mark? You rush to the light switch and flip it on. Held against the wall was Mark in a black and blue suit, but his whole face his covered. And holding him against the wall, was another Mark, in his new blue and black suit, but you were able to see his face.

"Don't fucking touch her," Your Mark growls. His hands tightened around the imposter's neck.

"Get off of me!" The imposter's says in between coughs. His head is bleeding, and the blood starts to roll down his face. The imposter turns to you.

"(Y/N)," The imposter says. "You're not gonna let him kill me, are you?" You stutter out a sentence, your mind moving faster than you can process words. You look between the two, unsure what to do.

"Don't listen to him," Your Mark yells. "He came with other variants of me. They're evil. They only live to kill." You want to believe him, you really do. But the Mark against the wall is in so much pain. And if he wanted to kill you...why didn't he? Without thinking, you begin to move to the two Marks.

"Let him go, Mark," You say. Your Mark glares at you.

"Seriously? Did you not hear what I said?" His words are harsh, but his voice sounds hurt. "He'll kill you! What? Just because we're broken up, you'll be with another version of me! I'm trying to save you!"

"I know what you said!" Your anger scares both Marks. Neither of them have ever known you to raise your voice before. "Let him go, please." You say quieter. Your Mark curses under his breath before letting the imposter go. The Other Mark sinks to the floor, gasping for breath and holding his neck. He looks up to you. He crawls on the ground and hugs your legs.

"I'm sorry," He cries. "Please! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me!" You look back at Your Mark who's standing behind you with his arms crossed. He scoffs and turns away from you. You look back down to the Mark on the floor.

"It's...it's okay," You reassure him. "I'm safe, remember. I'm not hurt." The Other Mark nods his head.

"Yes, you're safe," He repeats. "I'll make sure you'll always be safe." A rush of wind hurls past you. Before you can even blink, the Other Mark is standing on the other side of the room with his hand balled in a fist. Your Mark holds his chest. Blood gushes from his mouth, and he falls to the ground.

Your eyes widen in shock. You're sure you screamed, but you can't hear anything. You rush to your ex-boyfriend's side, kneeling beside him. Blood quickly pools around him.

"Mark? Mark!" You scream. The Other Mark lifts you from the ground.

"Don't do that," He says, his voice strangely calm. "You could get an infection. What if you got sick? Do you want me to be alone again?" You struggle to get out of his grasp, but he won't budge. He floats above the ground and flies the both of you out of your window. You beat against his body in protest as you scream for Your Mark.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," The Other Mark says. "You're safe with me now."

CAUGHT ON FILM #2! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...more nsfw twt links of the jjk men

INFO...jjk men x fem!bodied reader, women in the videos may be white skinned and light skinned but these videos are only to show how’d they fuck you, choking, cow girl, doggy, missionary, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), spit, handjobs, fingering, overstim, bondage, praise, degradation, squirting, creampie, breeding, anal, sex toys

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

pounding your pussy in the backseat of the car

choking you and spitting in your mouth while he fucks you from behind

teasing your pussy with the tip of his cock

making you squirt all over his dick while he cums in your pussy

he loves seeing your mascara run down your face

toji doesn’t like when you use condoms, you feel too good

GOJO

gojo watching in the mirror as you bounce on his cock

pulling your panties to the side and eating your pussy

using his fleshlight on him

you look so cute in your nightgown he just had to fuck you in it

he loves the way your ass bounces back on him

gojo getting needy and thrusting up into your hand

NANAMI

fucking you before the two of you go out on your date

pushing you up against the shower door and fucking you after a long day

cockwarming him in public but can’t help getting needy and moving your hips against his

eating your pussy until you cum and make a mess

choking you and making you rub yourself through your panties while he praises and reassures you

fingering you till you squirm

GETO

jerking him off while he fingers you

waking you up in the middle of the night cause he’s so needy

licking you through your panties

the two of you get a little distracted while watching a movie

geto thought it would be fun to try anal

sloppy head is the best head

SUKUNA

treating you like a whore while fucking your face

using your pussy for his own pleasure

using your tits to jerk himself off

fucking you rough against the couch after a bad day

breeding your cute little hole

he loves using toys on both of your holes until you’re shaking

HIGURUMA

grinding your ass against his hard cock, teasing him

guiding you up and down his cock

deciding to tie you up and fuck you from behind

holding you close to him while he whispers the nasty things he wants to do as he licks and sucks at your sensitive spots

playing with your pussy for his own enjoyment

spanking you for being a brat

CHOSO

rubbing your clothed pussy over his dick before he gets too needy and fucks you

he can’t help eating your pussy even after you’ve cum already

sitting on his face while he’s distracted on his phone

making out naked and getting touchy

breeding your pussy on your cute picnic date

making him cum through his underwear

tag list (comment to be added):

@kodzukein @inayasahin @mxchi-mxxn @vlsquuu @love-4-keum @thirtykiwis @viisgrave @bellefaerie @manifestis @oliviaissocool1 @prettyfacedream @bsi25 @zayn-210 @charbunxxi @nahoye @mistyheart @supernatrualqueen @lem-hhn @mimibesticon @fateisnotafactor @iwanttoberich420 @angelofthorr @honestlywtfisgoingon @araities @vampzity @spicynoodles23 @pinkbunnysblog @nn-hh192 @chrishak @keiva1000 @darkstarlight82 @brownbtch @70cosmo07 @sadmonke @notfancyrebelpaper @aydene

Raf, I know you're real salty about the whole "forgotten promise" thing, but you could have given her a little more warning

HOW THEY E4T YOU OUT !

feature: choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji

content: 3.3k+ wc — pssy eatin, spnking, degradation, sqrting [request are always open] mdni + not proofread

CHOSO KAMO

Devours you every chance he gets as if he’s going to die if he doesn't. 

His eyes were tired and his back was slumped when he arrived home like usual. On the days when he needs to leave for work and return once more, his muscle memory always searches for you before anything else.

He came in, forgot to take off his shoes, his phone in hand and an exhausted look on his face. 

“Bad day Cho’?” you asked. 

“M’just tired.” He hummed out. 

“Aww i’m sorry Cho’ how can I make you feel better?” 

“Can I see her?”

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Mmngh can never get enough of your pretty pussy, baby— please.. she’s sho’ mghn delicious..” 

Choso is a man who makes you tremble while he cries as he proceeds to eat your soul out. A man who cums in his pants just by looking at your pussy as if it were his first time seeing it. Because he doesn’t want to do anything but eat your pussy and make you feel good.

It was over the moment you allowed this man to taste you. His only desire now—was to have his face permanently pressed into your folds. 

Choso keeps his face inside your pussy as if he were scuba diving, fuck the goggles. He thinks eating you out only ended successfully based on how messy he was when he finished. 

With both palms keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. Like there’s a reward beyond the coma inducing orgasm destined to be achieved for the both of you when he’s done. He wants to see your cunt in full view, and access to every nook and cranny possible.

He’s needy and messy, he’ll stuff his face like he lost his house keys in your cervix. And doesn’t see himself done until, your juices are soaking more than just the bedsheets. He aims to see the mixed cum and saliva dripping down his chin and far past his stomach.

He just can’t help it, he wants to make you feel so good he's a pussy pleaser. 

“F-fuck baby mmnghm, am i doin’ ghud p-pretty?..” he whines, his eyes hazy and lusted as his tongue makes rounds on your clit. Sucking and mumbling with his mouth full.

“y-yes jus’ like that cho’ so good f’me mmm…” you struggle, your palms ruffling through his hair for support.  

“S-so good..thank you–mnuh thank you..” He slobbers sweet nothings to himself as the thousands of taste buds on his tongue individually roam in and out of your folds. Leaving no bare of your skin un-sampled. Tasting everything there is to taste without fail. 

“Uhng, cho’ r-right there m’so close..!”

Abusing your clit with ease as he promptly twists and prods his fingers out and back in. “you gonna come? n-not yet, m’ not done—keep going just a little more..baby pleashh~” 

NANAMI KENTO

Caresses you with one goal in mind, that is the satisfaction that comes with making you finish.

When you knocked on his door and made your way inside, he was in a virtual conference.

The mere sight of him making your pussy excruciatingly wet.

His arms were visibly exposed, and his sleeves were rolled up. His clothing appeared tighter, especially with the veins on his skin throbbing. The buttons on his shirt could have easily burst from the way they were begging to be undone.  

He glanced at you and motioned silently for you to come sit on his knee while he muted his call.

"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, sliding a hand to your waist to hold you in place on his thigh.

“Nothinnn’ just miss you is all,” you lie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss to his temple.

“Is that so?” he questions, his glasses slipping down just enough to reveal his content eyes.

“Mhmm I reaaally missed you ken’” 

"I can feel you rocking your weight on my thigh, so don't lie to me." 

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Sit on my face baby—let me take care of you”

Although Kento Nanami is always pent-up, he is able to maintain his composure. He can, has, and will keep going for hours. He will drop to his knees and encircle your thighs with his huge arms the moment you ask him to. With his face burying deeper into your cunt as if he were employed on a graveyard shift from 9 to 5. 

After all, he's a gentleman, which means that he's hooked on seeing your body shake just by making out with your cunt. The boulder in his pants twitching with every lustful movement the scene in front of him causes.

He’d never stop until you finish, making sure you emptied all you had on his tongue, before he makes you do it again on his dick.

“Umngh– that feel good sweetheart?” He goes on, your shaky legs being forced apart by his grasp so they are unable to get in the way of his view.

“Mhmm–keep going ken’ feels soo good..” you moan.

Kentos a clit lover. He never concludes these sessions until your clit is puffy and your pussy is gaping from his fingers. 

And every time you are at a loss for words, frantically seeking for something to cling onto, he leaves a mental note that makes you whimper when he does it again. 

He stones both his middle and ring fingers inside of you despite never once letting go of that puffy clit he deems so tasty. He sucks, strokes, and makes out with your pussy like a natural. 

He’s the type to have an area 51 lockdown on your thighs, the type to let you grab a fistful of his hair and let you ride his face at any tempo your little heart desires. His palms rubbing circles on the inside of your thighs—leading you to your final destination. 

“You’re doing so good—that's it, make me taste how good im doing love...” 

GOJO SATORU

Loves the way you give up under his touch, fighting against the orgasm he’s gonna take from you.

“Satoru Gojo, knock it off..!” you huffed out. you had enough of him toying with you all day. 

He asked to go with you on your errands and promised not to get in the way.

Yet he’s been teasing you all day, telling you how good he’s gonna fuck your brains out. Putting his hand on your thigh in the car, just to play coy and ‘accidentally’ slip a finger through the hems of your panties.

Even as you were trying to reach an agreement on a new game for you and him to play, he made attempts to grind your ass against him.

"Huuh? Satoru Gojo? Who’s that? M’names toru," he chuckles.

"We’re in public, Satoru. You’re being so annoying." you groan rolling your eyes at him, before moving on to the next row.  

"Whattt, a man can’t love on his girlfriend nowadays?” he exaggerates, following immediately behind you, copying your steps. 

                                                  ୨୧ 

“P-Put it in already toru’…!” you whined.

“You weren't this eager for me earlier…” he gasped dramatically, kissing up your thigh, pulling your panties down in the opposite direction.

“Quit teasing Toru’ jus’ need you in me...” 

“If you wan’ it inside, gotta show me how eager you are to cum on my face baby...”

You won't believe how sloppy and vulgar this man is when he's eating you out.

Your eyes will be drawn to the back of your head by him. He'll put his blindfold over your eyes and make you only able to see stars.

His thick and lengthy fingers have enough ability to take the wind right out of your lungs and reach farther than any toy could alone. 

“Hah..c-can’t toru’,” struggling to catch your breath, you try to push his face away. 

He’s a man who makes sure to pleasure you first. And makes you cum no less than twice on his tongue. He swallows everything he can, and makes you cum again if he didn’t get it all the first time.

"C'monnn baby—mmnm, know your pussy got another one in her, tell her to give it to me.." he laughs.

Satoru loves to watch your body unfold under him. He adores the way your throat reaches the highest octave you can afford to give. The way he pulls countless moans out of your throat, causing your voice to crack. He loves to hear how much your ‘can't take it toru’” fuel his ego just so he can get ready to show you just how much he’ll make you take it.

He finger fucks you like crazy. Maintaining the pad of his thumb on your clit while stuffing your cunt onto his fingers in a rhythmic motion. He never wastes time to put his mouth to work.

“Too much toru’ gonna squ—nghmm..!” you yelp, getting cut off by the way he scoots your ass closer to his face—allowing him to focus on the deep areas within your pussy, causing you to squirt then and there without the ability to stop. 

“Good fuckin’ job baby–wouldve mmhp- brought an umbrella if I knew it was gonna rain today,” 

“...”

GETO SUGURU

He takes his time eating you out, he just wants to see how desperate you can get for him.

"You were moving so much, love. What's the matter? Had a nightmare?" Geto asks out to you.

Gaining consciousness slowly, you watch the strands of his hair fall, concealing his half open eyes, before he pushes them back over his head.

Initially he turned away from you in an attempt to cool down your side of the bed since he believed you could have been feeling too hot. But when you kept shuffling under the blankets, he decided to wake you up. 

"Mmm, no, it was more like auhh..." you pause, pondering on what you’re going to say, sitting up to rest against the headboard of the bed.

"Like what?" he inquires, positioning himself to align with your stance.

"You know..." You feel a little ashamed at the thought, but you avoid his gaze until you hear his laugh fill the room. 

“Aw my pretty girl havin’ wet dreams about me?” 

Throwing a pillow at his face as you huff out, “It’s not funny Sugu’, I genuinely couldn’t sleep…!”

“Why don’t you show me what I did in your dream then, hm?”  

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Go on uhmngh, let’s make your dream come true–as much as your pretty mmh.. pussy desires,”

Geto wants to see how horny you really are for him. He adores nothing but to see how desperate you really are to get off. 

“uhhuhnn r-right there baby..” your breath hitching, while you ride up and down his mouth.

He watches you mindlessly use him like you’re the one in control. He’ll let you fuck his fingers—your nails clenching the strands of his hair, undoing the bun he wrapped up prior. 

He feels the way the heels of your feet are snug deep in his broad shoulders. And he doesn’t care, because all Geto can care about is the way you’re haphazardly slamming your pussy in his face without loss.

He’ll agree when you say you need a moment, only to slam you back down on his face when your movement starts to slow. He’ll latch around your waist with the fore of his arms, and shove himself deep between your thighs.

“Sugu’ mnghn—slow down p-please..!” Playing dumb on how your vindications for him slow down fall on stone-deaf ears. 

“Mmmnghm you said faster? sure thing baby..” Smirking into your clit while he devours you—his grip only gets tighter, mocking the same way your fingers begin to tighten against his scalp.

“Mmmn sugu’…don’t stop…c-cummin’ nghh-guh!” 

Geto damn near inhales your cunt at this point, giving himself no air as he breathes and digests everything that comes out of your pussy, emphasising the slurping noises his lips bring as they're mingled in your folds while you squirt in his mouth. 

“Atta girl..Can’t sleep now though, might as well keep goin’ till sunrise.” 

SUKUNA RYOMEN

He wants to drain the thoughts from your mind and watch you falter under him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” you press, but get an annoyed sigh in response.

You’ve asked him to let you accompany him multiple times so you could watch him box-train, and while usually he says no–today he said yes as an excuse to show off his pretty fiancé. Yet, he was pissed when he watched a group of shirtless scumbags surrounding you with brags about their meager accomplishments.

He saw you giggling up a storm but you weren’t laughing because of him and that thought alone made his blood boil.

"I was just bein’ nice Kuna’, so I'm not sure why you have an attitude."

"Maybe it's caus' you wanna go around flirtin' with every guy in the damn gym." Sukuna scolds, pulling his duffel bag out to put away his gloves—rolling his eyes in advance as he slams his locker door.

"I did not try to flirt! They came up to me, asked about you and then the talk continued. A cordial discussion some might say," you joke.

“Oh yeah? What were they sayin’ then?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at your remark, leaning against the locker doors, an action forbidding you to walk away.

                                                  ୨୧ 

“T-They we’re just sayingnn t-that you..—you mghn!” 

Sukuna either goes all out or doesn’t, and when it comes to you, going all out is just the tip of the iceberg. 

He’s a man who hates getting dirty, but when it’s your cunt? You know it’s ate right when your mattress is stained through like a sponge. 

“I-I what brat? Spit it out." he spites, making fun of your efforts to speak—his fingers breaking and entering you with ease. 

Sukuna's cruel and wicked, if you will. He has your pussy leaking and accessible to him completely. Eating and finger fucking you enduringly.

The filthy squelches and slurps fill both your ears whilst he fingers you till your internal juices coats his fingertips.

“That you–hah…w-win lots mphm…K-kuna pleash..!..can’t breathe..please..” you begin to writhe beneath his lips, swallowing in shock at his ruthless touch.

You can tell him to let you breathe and that you can no longer cum, all you want, but he doesn't bother to listen. 

The palms of his hand repeatedly make contact with your ass, torturing the skin below them and causing acute pain on your cheeks, leaving no place for pity.

“Yeah? s’that why you were gigglin’ and given fuck me eyes?” 

He makes it his mission every time to eat you so good no matter what you do it’ll never be enough. He’ll make sure those half assed attempts to get off alone don’t result in a happy ending without him.

“Mmgnh n-no! I wasn’t–ah..promise–I p-promise k-kuna’ please it hurts..!” 

“You wanna play bimbo while I’m trainin’, but actin’ all innocent when we’re alone?” he hisses. 

With his tongue stretching deeper than any man could ever hope to, he gives himself the advantage to tongue-fuck you all over by moving his palms under your lower back, titling your pussy deeper on his face.

“N-no!...g– mmm g-gonna’ cum..! so—close kuna..”

He finds it amusing how sensitive you are. “mnnguh …cum brat—since that's all y’wanna be good for.”

“K-Kuna m-mmmngh—!...”

Only allowing you a few moments to return to consciousness before he's prepared to fold you again like an expert origami master at work.

“Who said I was done? Open your legs n’ give me another one whore.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Wants to humiliate you as you squirm and watch him violate your folds.

Toji didn’t play when it came to his gym routine and to have you with him every night as his gym partner was even better. He said he would take care of it for you, when you looked into what to wear to the gym, and he did just that.

He got you a matching colored windbreaker and Nike biker shorts. He wasn't giving it any consideration at first, merely noting that it'd be more breathable.

Up until the moment he realised he was staring at your ass each time you got on the treadmill. Addicted to the way the material made your ass appear, as you passed by his station. 

His cock tensed because of the way the dark velvety material flaunted every curve of your pussy when you moved.  

Sensing you approaching him as he was finishing up a set on the weighted arm raises—he dwelled more on the way your ass seemed to converse with him while he watched you slip into his line of sight.

"Hmm?" he hums, completing his final rep. He goes to get a complimentary wipe from the cleaning station and walks back to wipe down the machine. Leaving it sanitised and ready for it’s next use.

“Toji baby, sorry to interrupt but can you spot me next?” 

"Oh, I see," a sneer lifted on his scarred lips as he continues; "finally doin' it today huh?"

You put on a smile and take over his former position. “indeed, I decided to give some new workouts a go today! I’m pretty excited y’know?” 

He nods, "there's no rush, jus’ go slow, lemme know if it's too much."  

“Yeah yeah yeah…I got this [...] wait Toji, aren’t you supposed to be by my arms?”

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Thought you were excited a minute ago, all that energy go to your pussy?” 

Toji Fushiguro, experienced and tongue-talented. You'll be cruising to the finish line like a race car thanks to him. He takes good care of your pussy—forcing you to understand how much he will always know your pussy far more than you and anyone else could.

Especially how the tiniest of friction from him that causes your walls to spasm on his taste buds—confirmation in itself.

He’ll force you to keep your eyes open and watch—as he makes love with your cunt. 

“Keep your eyes open doll— m’ tryna see them turn white”

“Hmmph! T-Toji…What if someone comes in?...ngh, ah—“

“The only one cummin’ is you,” he retaliates.

With his left hand, he pulls back both of your legs as he utilises his right. Your whole-body quivering amid him from his constant clit assaults.  

He finger fucks you swifter than previously, and immediately senses your insides clenching around his fingers, forcing you with no choice but to be filled to the brim, and disoriented due to his tongue.  

“The thought of you bein’ caught spread open on a weight bench got ya’ pussy pulsatin’ huh?”

“Mmngh a-absolutleey..not…!” 

Studying as a wave of humiliation passes over your expression, he puts a couple harsh palms to your ass with a SMACK. Making the area sting over and over, as the air creeps to irritate the burn. 

“Denyin’ with a straight face as if I can’t feel you smotherin’ my fingers? Fuckin’ slut,” 

“M’ not a slu-ngh–! Toji’...mmmh”, whimpering—you reach for the edges of the weight bench looking desperate for support.

“Wan’..mmm wanna cum Toji…please,” 

“You wanna cum?”

“Mmhm!—” you cry out, your voice wavering in response. 

“Only sluts get to cum—mmmh, ptuih—but yer not one of em’ are ya’?” he tests you, spitting on your clit as though your sopping pussy hasn't already caused enough fluids to run down his throat.

“Mm–m’ n-not–nnmugh!"

 “You know what I wanna hear ma’ say it.” he demands, adding another finger to the two, fucking you fuller.

“I-Im a s-slut toji…mgnhm a slut—a slut for you, please let me cummmngh!—” you babble out, not even sure if it's for him anymore; the words bring nothing but a warning to anyone who hears—unable to stop. Feeling yourself reach your limit against his tongue. 

“So needy—mmngh cum like a good lil’ slut then,”