“if You Were An Animal You Would Be A Hyena.”

Thinking of Solomon with an MC who’s obsessed with trying to figure out where he was during certain time periods. Asking him about different myths and legends, fully expecting that he was there.

“Hey, Sol, did you ever meet Merlin?” you ask one day while lounging in his room. He looks up from his book. “Merlin’s a myth, MC,” he deadpans and you shrug. “So was hell up until a while ago,” you say and he sighs while putting his book down. “Well, I didn’t know him in person, but-“

Another time you’ll be reading about The Epic of Gilgamesh, but when you ask about it he just stares at you in disbelief. “What?” you’ll ask and he shakes his head. “MC, those are ancient stories. Why would you think I was alive during those times?”

You’ll nod and take a mental note. Sol wasn’t alive in 2700 B.C.

Your favorite though is asking him about other gods. Greek myths, Nordic myths, Egyptian myths. With little to no consideration that some of these things were happening at the same time and Solomon couldn’t possibly be at all these places simultaneously.

If the devil is alive then what stops Zeus or Odin from being as well? Solomon tells you that he doesn’t actually know but that he theorizes that whenever a religion has enough believers it becomes alive. Hence why Greek or Nordic gods haven’t been heard from in a while. You think it’s a simultaneously sad and interesting theory. “Imagine being a god and slowly feeling life slip away with your last believer,” you say one day with your head in his lap. His fingers combing through your hair momentarily stops. When you look up at him, you find him staring off into space with knitted brows. “Do you think we can meet Buddha?” you ask to lighten the mood and the man sighs in exasperation.

You enjoy watching his brain work while he's trying to summon memories. Sometimes you’ll hit a soft spot if you ask about a particularly brutal time period. You quickly realize that he doesn’t like talking about Macbeth or the 1300s. Those times you’ll kiss his face and apologize until the pain is washed away or at least put away for some time.

Living for as long as Solomon has isn’t easy. It’s a lonely existence. It’s hard for you to grasp, the fact that it isn’t just stories, but that he’s actually lived through these events.

One day the air in his room shifts and Solomon finds you glaring at him. He shifts uncomfortably, feeling like an ant under your gaze. “Sooo, what are you thinking about?” he asks, feeling himself grow smaller and smaller. He begins to wonder if you're actually trying to turn him into a bug.

“So, Sol. Where were you during The Second World War?”

a/n: this is a repost from my old blog! find my other stuff here

my thigh kink cannot handle this rn

whatever he says

── “Conception” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Requested by anon — Hey, love ur writing. All the smut you've written for the jjk men is soooo hot. Would u be interested in writing feral ritual sex & breeding kink w sukuna? Like he's obsessed w the thought of his precious little queen having his child, but since he's a curse he has to put in some extra effort to make sure it takes & doesn't harm her. I'm just obsessed w the thought of the bid bad king of curses being soft for his little baby (& ofc the babymaking process). Love u and wishing u a good day.

Warnings — breeding, inflation, lactation, dumbification, dacryphilia, pregnancy. MINORS DNI.

Sukuna was a greedy man. Sure, he had his lovely queen, the only one who had ever managed to tame him. He never desired any forms of human companionship till you came in his way with the pretty little face of yours and an ever charming wit.

But he hungered for more, recently.

Sukuna had never even thought of having a family. He held no desire to procreate, but over the time, staying with you, learning about your own desires of a family someday— it grew over him like a disease. To see you with his offspring, his heir. The need to get you pregnant, the desire so primal in him that all he could think of was that. He was utterly obsessed.

So, now that you are in the privacy of your room, who were you to deny the king of his wishes? Sukuna always gets what he wants. And you learnt so when you saw that look of hunger in his eyes. He was so certain he'd knock you up tonight. And you were too, considering his actions.

"Look at you..." he growls, taking the sight of you all in, eyes glassy and desperate, sweat glistening off your pale skin as he pounds into you without a drop of mercy. Your lips tremble as wanton moans of his name escape your throat. "Meant to be a mother..."

All that occupied his mind was to see your belly round with his brood, to see how you'd glow with his child in your womb, to see how much more prettier you would you get with your tits growing heavy, your kimono tightening around them as they fill up with milk. With that thought and the feeling of you tightening around his cock, he releases into your womb, cock nudging against your cervix as he fills you to the brim.

It wasn't enough, of course.

A helpless mewl escapes your lips when you feel him moving again. "S-Sukuna..." a whine escapes your lips. He tuts, a smirk forming on his face as he resumes thrusting into your oversensitive cunt. "Not so fast, my lovely Queen..." he says, a finger reaching to pinch and tug upon your hardened nipple. "Need to make sure I breed you well..." he says, his pace increasing as he speaks, "You'll be carrying our baby soon..."

"N-Ngh—! 'K-Kuna...'s too much!" you complain, your mind almost going blank when you feel him hit your cervix again. And again. And again. But he shows no sign of stopping. "You can take it, my queen....you must give me a child. An heir...." he softly brushes the hair out of your face as he pounds into you in a harsh manner till you feel a knot build in your stomach once again.

"S-Sukuna..Ahh...c-cumming...!" you moan as he increases his pace, making the knot of your stomach snap, squirting over his cock and making him chuckle darkly. "Mmm...pretty..." he says softly, not stopping his movements till he fills you up once again. His seed filling your womb for the second time for the day. You whine at the feeling, there was no way his plan to impregnate you was failing at this rate.

"Sukuna..." you mutter his name softly as he pulls out of you slowly, giving your forehead a soft kiss. Perhaps it was an apology on behalf of the long night he was planning ahead. Giving you a moment to prepare yourself, he watches his cum ooze past your pussy before he rams into your poor cunt again.

"S-Sukuna-ah! p-please...." you whimper, it was too much! but it was also only the beginning. He is a curse after all, he has to take extra efforts to make sure he impregnates you, no? "P-Please...too full!"

"Sssh...." he says, grunting as he feels the gummy walls of your cunt clamp over him. "You need to give me a child, my queen..." he says gruffly, wiping the tears that roll down your cheek. It's too much! "You're gonna make such a beautiful mother...belly round with my child. F-Fuck...gonna breed you so well tonight."

Another thick load, followed by another, soft praises escaping his lips, thumbs brushing your tears away. You were too full with his hot and sticky seed, too overstimulated, your brain mushed to the point you couldn't think about anything except being bred my him. About being pregnant with his heir. About fulfilling his desire. About making him a father.

Your belly appeared to bulge a bit from the amount of cum he's stuffed into you. Your womb overflowing with his seed. And yet— Sukuna wasn't satisfied. He kept going, and the last thing you felt was his cock still buried deep into your cunt, a heavy load released into yet again. He lies next to you, cock slipping out. His seed flowed out of you in large amounts as he brushes the strands of your hair from your face and softly kisses your forehead. "Rest, my Queen..."

Of course his efforts had paid out. And it was just what he imagined. You were glowing with his child in your belly, he simply loved to caress your round belly as he held you, praised you for carrying his heir —so incredibly proud of his queen and his little one that was growing in you.

He loved to see the tightness around your chest, the stains on your kimono as your breasts grew heavy. The blush on your cheeks when he told you he'd relieve you of the overflowing mess— slurping and drinking upon the sweet nectar greedily.

He absolutely fucking adored to see you crochet little clothes to welcome your little one, sitting on the bed with a round belly as you knit together a cute and tiny sweater for the to-be-coming-soon member with your eyebrows scrunched together as you poured your focus into it.

And when the little one was born? Sukuna never knew he could be so soft. He would spend his days with the little one cradled in his arms, his pride growing when he saw him perched upon your hip, walking around — just being the amazing mother he expected you to be. He would make sure no harm ever befell the two of you.

He now sits with the two of his only loved ones, with something on his mind again— maybe in the upcoming years, he could have more of this. A big family with his wonderful queen.

Sukuna was a very greedy man, after all.

taglist: @x-lunawrites-x

I want to give Mammon the most creamiest, wet, sloppy, vile, life-changing, universal, heaven sent, astonishing, amazing, beautiful, legs trembling, sweaty, legs spreading, toe curling, voice breaking, sheet gripping, “do it harder", "treat me like an animal", down-bad, wonderful, spectacular, miraculous, heavenly, barking, meowing, "where did myself respect go?", unique, jaw dropping, majestic, magnificent, drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, mind blowing, perfect, straight up, perfection, brilliant glowing, fabulous, stunning again, splendid, phenomenal, once in a lifetime, breath taking, extraordinary, excellent, better than average, snarling, growling, on my knees, mouth foaming staggering, bewildering, astounding, awesome, sensational, prodigious, stupendous, remarkable, marvelous, thrilling, exciting, wondrous, taken back, shocking, wide eyes, speechless, awestruck, thunderstruck, love struck, blown away, pleasing, alluring, irresistible, "bark for me", graceful, elegant, divine, ravishing, lovely, charming, breedable, spunky, cute, aesthetically pleasing, "get on your knees for me", delightful, beauteous, exquisite, man moaning asf, super, dazzling, harder, delicious, appealing, mind bending, whimper causing, tongue twisting, bed breaking, corrupting, spank me, choke me, hit me, pull my hair, deepthroating, mascara dripping, "go faster", "yes daddy", bite me, dick throbbing, teeth shattering, eye rolling, eye watering, ass clenching, drooling from the mouth, mind blogging, sheet gripping, hip thrusting, dressing up as a maid if they want, wist slowly then fastly moving up and down, "I can't hold back any longer", twitching, lips biting, back arching, begging for more, sucking till it's dry, startling and weakening head ever.

BRO??????

I feel like you just sent me the "no lube, no protection" paragraph that people put on those Gojo edits LMAO

im stealing this thanks nonnie

lambs for the slaughter

(mdni)

leon kennedy x reader

warnings: cult leader!leon, fem!reader, dub-con, mentions of a forced marriage, fingering, virgin!reader

a/n: THIS TOOK ME DONKEY YEARS TO WRITE. i'm proud of it though so idrc. there will also be a second part to this bc i have more planned. title is from fly on the windscreen by depeche mode (that song is leon's song trust)

please enjoy!!!

“Pitiful lamb, she must be saved before she falls into the darkness.”

The words are like an echo in your head, like it's your conscience speaking to you, but you know damn well that such is not the case.

You're pretty confused as to where you are, but all you know is that you can't move and people are chanting the same words over and over.

Gloria las plagas.

“Take her to the tomb and dress her in the marital robes.”

You want to open your eyes, but all you can feel is cold hands groping your warm body, and you can't help but shudder because there are so many of them gripping onto you.

“I shall show her salvation.”

The last thing you feel is a cloak wrapped around your naked body before you drift back into your comatose state.

–

Your eyelids feel heavy, drooping over your eyes as you slip into the real world.

You're in your bed, wearing your plaid pyjamas and looking (as well as feeling) like a mess because that dream was far too realistic.

Usually you aren't supposed to remember dreams, and if you had dreamt about a memory, surely you would remember such an occasion of being accused of ‘falling into the darkness’.

But ‘marital robes'? Odd, strange- even better, peculiar. You'd definitely remember a thing such as this, marriage is a big deal. You're already hearing the voice of your mother rattling on about ‘finding the right one’ just at the thought.

‘Whatever, you shouldn't dwell on such things’ is what you helpfully motivate yourself with. Dreams never make sense anyway, why should they now?

–

You ended up getting in such a state about it that it was to the point where you didn't even process that you were late for work.

Your manager greets you with a raised eyebrow as well as a heavy sigh at your slightly dishevelled appearance when you unceremoniously burst into his office.

You don't even apologise for being late, you just continue panting and making strange hand signals to show that you'd had bad traffic or something.

You're not even sure yourself what you signed (wasn't evening signing, it was just pointing and breathless words) at your manager.

It almost makes you wonder how you haven't lost your job. Maybe the pile of documents dumped on your desk is probably a benefitting factor.

–

Your work doesn't contain much effort, save it for the pointless meetings you daydream in, typing away reports, signing paperwork. Menial tasks.

Gives you ample time to think about that dream.

Well, not really a dream (despite your earlier evaluation on it being such). In your eyes it felt like a flashback, but you recall nothing about being referred to as a lamb, let alone a pitiful one either.

It's like a daze has washed over you the more you let it fester in your mind, an incantation of sorts that's making you reminisce on the dream like a broken record.

The chanting, that overpowering voice, the feeling of hot and cold, the hands, marital robes and the salvation. God knows what all that means.

You should just let this slide much like this morning, should just pretend everything is normal and fine when it's not, because you're good at that sort of thing.

You can't shake the niggling feeling though.

Gloria las plagas. It's a distant chime in your head, and suddenly your fingers are darting across your keyboard with a loud clack clack clack.

Glory to the plagues. Cool, maybe you should've learnt Spanish in school or something, but you would've forgotten it anyway.

The plagues though? The fuck is that?

You hurriedly clack away more at your keyboard like you had a strong purpose.

The Plagues are a breed of parasitic superorganisms which originated from a remote valley in the Iberian Peninsula.

Very insightful. Means fuck all to you, so you do a little more digging because this is getting slightly more concerning that your brain has conjured this up and it's somehow real.

Once again, you're clacking away at your bulky keyboard with more vigour, resulting in you hitting the ‘Enter’ key so hard you wince (and a co-worker narrowing her eyes at you for the noise).

Parasitic organisms, an organism that lives on or in a host organism and gets its food from or at the expense of its host.

Fun. Almost like getting pregnant is all your mind helpfully supplies, but you roll your eyes to yourself because your mind clearly hasn't recovered from the events of last night.

Oh well, you hope your manager or some random stranger doesn't see your search history and gets weirded out by your impromptu research lesson on Spanish and Biology.

Then again, you hope you don't seem dumb for searching up what a parasite organism is. And the Spanish.

–

You're going mental, you know it.

You needed to touch up your lipgloss and nature also called (you needed to piss), so you headed to the toilets and did your business, then headed to the mirrors to wash your hands and gloss up your lips.

You didn't think the power would suddenly cut just as you were to unscrew the cap of your gloss.

You're coated in darkness, uncomfortably aware now that you're alone in the bathroom as you let out a meek ‘hello?’ and all you're met with is a deafening silence ringing in your ears.

Maybe you're getting pranked on, there is a light switch in the bathroom, but then again, you never really speak to anyone at your work because they seem to gossip all the time, and you don't fancy losing your job over it.

Much to your surprise, the fluorescent lights suddenly flicker on.

Glancing at the mirror, your reflection is staring back at you, and quickly come to notice that your eyes are red.

You gasp and tense up at the sight. No longer do you have your natural eye colour coating your irises, but instead you have this crimson red seeping through.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas.

Backing away from the mirror is the first thing you do, unintentionally dropping your gloss to the floor as you run your hands over your eyes in case you're just seeing shit.

Your eyes are still red, but blood drips down your face like tears.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas.

It's the chanting, the same in your dream, but it's louder, closer, harsher, and it makes you put your hands over your ears and screw your eyes shut.

Gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria las plagas, gloria la-

A hand taps you on the shoulder, pulling you out of the sheer panic you were in to silence as you whip your head around to see who your saving fucking grace was.

It's a coworker, one you're sure you've never spoken to, but she's one of the less bitchy ones so you aren't too mad. She's got this look of concern in her face, forcing you to wonder if she's taken in your bloody eyes and if she decides to call an ambulance or something.

But she doesn't, she just gives you a smile and asks if you're okay, and all you can give is a shaky nod because you are definitely not fine.

When you do look back at the mirror, you look normal. But you don't feel it.

–

You're sitting criss crossed on your bed, reading a book. Not exactly a very interesting book, one that an old friend recommended, so it was likely that it wasn't destined to be anything special.

You feel tired, drained even. You did fuck all today, especially after the incident in the bathroom at work, you're still a little shaken. It had you unable to focus for the whole work day.

Even this shitty book can't keep you focused, maybe you need an early night.

You slap the book shut, without noting the page you were on, and toss it on your bedside table, uncaring of the painful clattering sound it shouts out to you as you rub your eyes and yawn.

After blinking a couple times, you glance at the clock with some disinterest.

20:43.

Yeah, definitely an early night. Maybe this is your chance to fix the appalling sleep schedule you've never been able to rid yourself of.

Wandering into the bathroom had never been such a sluggish experience, but you aren't skipping your nightly routine of washing your face and putting a little moisturiser on.

The cold water on your face seems to snap you out of something, forcing you sigh and grip onto the edge of the sink until your knuckles turn white, reluctance etched on your face

You don't want to look in the mirror, but you feel compelled too.

It's like a taunt in your eyes, urging you to look at your reflection because of your strict nightly regime, though you're more concerned about the fact that you gaze at your reflection and be met with bleeding out of your eyes again.

Plucking up the courage by taking a deep breath, you look up to the mirror. Never-fucking-mind about the bleeding eyes.

Black veins stem from your eyes and start trailing down your face, then to your neck, then arms and then hands.

Much like your previous experience, you don't panic. However, you don't back away from the mirror, but get closer instead.

Huh, not too bad. If these veins were just body paint you'd be rocking these for a Halloween party at fifteen or something. But you're not, and these veins are very fucking real.

The chanting hasn't started yet, and you almost feel thankful about it, though there's an ache that's becoming a throbbing pain in your head, and you can't shake it as the veins grow sharper on your skin.

Subconsciously, it seemed your hand had wandered near your face to have a feel of your face, only to be met with the feeling of slightly dry skin and no side effects from doing that action.

Until a gasp escapes you, and before you know it, you've collapsed.

A thud resounds in your ears, and you're fairly certain you've done some damage to the back of your head as you vaguely recall catching it on something.

Cold tiles penetrate your thin clothes as you lay on the floor, control of your body slowly fading in your head as your eyelids slip shut, the fatigue returning and suddenly being lucid was all too much.

The last thing you register is warm arms picking you up.

–

“You look lovely.”

You'll admit, you look rather fetching from what you can tell from the murky mirror. Black veins covet your skin with crimson eyes staring back at you, and all you do is smile.

Inwardly, you're freaking the fuck out. You (or Not You) look as pale as a vampire. Look as if You're dead. You're not though, you're very much alive.

“Don't worry, my little lamb,”

He's got your cold hand in between two warm ones, and you can't help but notice how pale you are.

Maybe you are dead, maybe you're in the in between, or maybe you're just cold. Whatever the fact is, you can't help but shiver slightly and move closer to his presence.

“I will show you the light.”

A blinding pain rushes through you, and your own shrieks ring in your ears.

“Do not resist my angel.” You are unsure of what you're resisting, but it hurts more than anything humanly possible.

“I will show you the light.”

–

You suck in a deep breath and sit up, like you've just got out of the water just before you've drowned.

Adrenaline flows through your blood, the drug making you hyper aware of everything around you.

You're on your bed, the bathroom light in the corner of your room reaches out to the shadowed gloom of your bedroom. And there's something on your head too, wrapped tightly too.

A bandage, seems as if you did hit your head pretty hard. You confirm that as you poke at different spots on the bandage and reward yourself with a painful wince.

“You haven't done any massive damage, just a concussion.”

That voice, a very familiar one is all you recognise as your head jolts up to the source of where it came from.

You're unsure of who he is, the hood of a purple robe obstructing your view of the man's face. He holds a staff, though he's too far in the shadows to get a proper good look at it.

“You…” He's the one in your dreams, you're sure of it. He can't be real, shouldn't be real at all, should be a figment of your imagination.

“You still resisted when I showed you the truth.” Truth? What is the truth? The only truth you know is that a strange man who's been making you go batshit in dream land is in your bedroom.

“I don't- I have no idea what you're on about.” That came out a little more sassy than necessary, but you're not really processing what the fuck is going on.

In response to your remark, the man steps out of the shadows and lets go of his staff for it to turn to dust.

In this light, you can see the faint glow of the light shine slightly on his face, painting the picture of his nose and lips. But then his hands reach up to his hood and pull it off his head.

You can't help but freeze up. The guy is hot as fuck, you can't deny. You feel like comically rubbing your eyes to check what you're seeing in front of you is real.

Of course the creepy guy has pretty privilege. Could be worse.

“I suppose I will have to form the ritual.” A ritual? Sounds fun, a great time even.

Slight snag though, you don't fancy being sacrificial meat for this guy, hot or not. Or maybe it'll be some weird mating ritual. You hope it's the latter.

“Your assumption is correct, for it is the latter we will be performing.” He can read minds as well, how amazing for you. You probably don't even have to talk anymore, but you quite fancy putting your words in on things.

“Why are we doing this ritual?” Just to emphasise the slight distress you feel, you get up off the bed, but it backfires when you stumble as a wave of dizziness crashes down on you.

Warm hands circle your waist, pulling your back toward a firm chest. Can't help but think you're in heaven because you've never been near someone so strong, muscular and hot.

Oh, and he's also hard. Can feel it against your ass and it nearly has you shuddering.

A breath coats your ear, it seems he's leant down to your ear and goes to mumble in your ear. “Because you resisted my gift,” He paused as one of his hands glided away from your waist to cup your mound. “And I wish to show you the light.”

Your mind is in overdrive, it certainly doesn't help that you've got a concussion, but he's got a hand in your very special parts. Whether he's hot or not, he should at least ask for permission. “Wait- wait I- stop-”

“Is something the matter?” You can tell he's grinning as he does this, and you can't help but gasp as he nibbles at your ear and rubs his hand over your mound, making you wetter than you've ever been before.

You look down and place a hand over his own to try and push him away, but it's only then that the black veins on your body have come back. “The veins-”

A hand clasps your mouth, and you can't help but moan and whine as he continues to stimulate your pussy. “Don't resist me, little lamb.”

Hope of resisting dwindles quickly after he commands this, as his hand moves away from your clothed clit to slip under your shirt and feel your tits. You can't help but suck in a breath as he pinches your nipple, then moves to the other to do the same.

“There- you see? It's not so bad, is it?” He's not wrong, you feel lightheaded and flooded in the feeling of pleasure, and all he's done is barely tease you.

His hand moves away from your mouth, no longer silencing you as it trails down to your pyjama bottoms and slips under it as well as your underwear, and all you can do is stare.

Tight circles are rubbed on your clit, and your legs are already weakening by the second from it. The only dignity you can save is by biting your bottom lip to suppress the light moans attempting to escape your lips. “Very sensitive, aren't we?”

It sounds like he's taunting you, almost driving you up the wall because this pleasure you're feeling is going to make you insatiable.

A finger plunges into your hole, and you fail to hold in the whine you let out, and neither can he suppress a breathy groan. “You're tighter than a virgin.”

You freeze in his hold at that revelation he stated, and in the reply, the bastard chuckles at you. Fuck him for sounding so sexy.

“Knew you were a good choice,” You actually can't help but smile at that. There's always a first for everything, and this was one of those things. And also having a strange man's finger in your cunt.

Said finger suddenly curls inside you, then slowly creeps out, then back in. The gentle thrusting of his finger makes your hands clutch at his forearms, digging your nails into it as you moan.

You hear a faint hiss from it, but his finger only moves faster, then it's joined by another. You can only gasp at the stretch because it actually hurts a little, so you dig your nails into his arms a little more for him to get the message.

His palm rubs against your clit, and it provides you with stimulation you could never get from your own hands because they're not nearly as big as his.

“Got my hand soaked,” He pauses, now angling his fingers so when he thrusts into you, his palm smacks against your clit, and in response you wail at the feeling. “Pretty little lamb.”

His words seem like syrup in your head as you chase your high, his fingers a catalyst for reaching it as they hit that spongy spot in you each time. “Can't wait to make you my wife.”

All coherent thought leaves you as you attempt to shout out a rebuttal at the words, all you let out are pathetic sputters and panting.

“What did I say?” Don't resist, that's what he said. But you don't want to be his wife, don't want to be part of what the hell he's got going on. “Be a good girl and listen.”

The chanting starts again. It's faint at first, but it gets louder and tempo quickens as you get closer to your high.

Gloria las plagas.

The orgasm is intense, you're convulsing and squeaking out a moan as your eyes roll to the back of your head, soreness spreading through your lower area and you're barely able to stand.

Slumping against him, you feel fingers still prodding at your lower area still, before they move away and up to your lips and slip inside your mouth, not even realising the strange taste that coats your mouth is your release.

Your eyelids slowly slip shut without you even realising. The adrenaline you've felt this entire time has run dry from your peak, the pillars of consciousness collapsing, tumbling you into the realm of deep sleep.

Tamaki Suoh x reader Smut

i don’t own any of these character

Fem reader ((I think)but it raley uses gendered language)

16+ Warning: Smut (obviousl), oral male receiving, that should be it

Parent teacher

Tamaki x reader

(Third POV)

Your parents were great but dragging your father along Ourans parent teacher day and have him stop and talk to everyone he knows was exhausting. At least now you could exchange annoyed glances with Kaoru and Hikaru as your fathers were talking business underhandedly. You know this is why you had the media empire did, because your dad come talk anyone into anything. You had inherited his silver tongue, which caught the attention of you now boyfriend Tamaki Suoh.

(Your POV)

“Mr. Suoh good to see you” your father said once you had pride him away from Mr. Hitachiin and the twins.

“Mr. Reynolds good to see you” he responded, I noticed Tamaki at his side. We weren’t wearing our uniforms so he opted for black dress pants, a white button up and the school issued tie. I was wearing beige dress pants and a y/f/c turtle neck. Tamaki was looking at me stunned, most likely because of the picture I sent him before I got dressed, just so he know exactly what I was wearing underneath. He sent me a picture of him just out of the shower and I needed a little pay back. Well, our fathers talked Tamaki and I just exchanged glances. Once I had enough of teasing him I said “Sorry to interrupted but would it be all right if Tamaki and I when to look for Kyoya?”.

“I don’t see why not” Mr. Suoh says.

“Just be back quickly” my father adds. Tamaki and I nod and walk away calmly before I lace our hands together and put him into the news club room, it was empty and I have the only key.

I pull Tamaki’s lips to mine and and kiss him furiously. “You tease” I say quickly before kissing him again. He smiles under my lips and says “what are you going to do about it”. I side my hands down to his belt before pulling our faces apart asking for permission. He gives me a small nod and I undo the belt and pull him over the my desk chair. He sits at the edge and a move to my knees. I pull down his pants and palm him through the underwear which earns a grunt from his lips.

“All ready so hard for me” I say pulling down his boxers as his full length springs out.

“It hurts” he moans.

“Well let me fix that” I say taking the first few inches of his cock into my mouth. He grunts as I bob up and down on the tip.

“More please” he whimpers and I oblige. He fits to the back of my throat almost making me choke. I run my tongue along his underside and he moans softly so no one hears him. I pick up the pace a bit and use my hand to massage the base of his cock.

His lewd noise encourage me to go a little faster and he moans again “I’m gonna-“ and cuts himself of with a whimper.

“Go head, I’ll swallow you” I purr which only makes his hips grind to my mouth. I draw my hand away and push his hips back. I move one hand to massage his throbbing balls and he releases into my mouth. He rides out his high and I stand and help him pull up his pants.

“Thank you” he says quietly, now standing standing, still a little shaky and kisses me.

“Of course love, I teased you so I followed through” I smile. I grab my perfume and a mint from my desk draw to help cover the smell and we walk out to actually go find Kyoya.

Once we find him Kyoya smiles at us and says “You might want another mint Y/n” and hands me one. Tamaki blushes hard but there’s no way Kyoya could tell, unless.

“You heard” you question.

“Your lucky I was alone” Kyoya smirks.

“I guess so” I say sending a smirk at Tamaki which makes his noses bleed.

Another success day.

When Gojo’s Plan to Make You Jealous Backfires

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched in amusement as your snow haired lover worked his magic on the newest teachers at Jujutsu High. The young women both red faced and squirming in their heels idolized your handsome boyfriend. They were fools to not notice that they were being played, Gojo decided to try and make you jealous just to get a rise out of you but you knew better then to fall for his silly antics. Yaga glared in disgust at Gojo’s blatant flirting, “He should be mindful to be more considerate for his loved one’s feelings.”, Yaga growled.

You stared up at your boss with a sad smile, “Apparently I’m not his loved one anymore, I guess he finally got tired of the Plain Jane act.”

You quietly worked on your reports until Gojo arrived at your desk with his new fan club in tow.

“(L/n) why not tell these two newbies just how incredible I am? I’m sure they’d love to hear stories from my number one field partner.”, he teased.

You stared at both the young women who immediately glared back at you in disgust, “Yes he is quite incredible, if you want easy cash you can always just go with Gojo on a mission and get paid to do nothing. Of course the biggest achievement he has is being single for so long, you two should try and test your luck, I heard he’s free this weekend.”

You smiled in amusement to Gojo’s startled expression, he was horrified by the fact that you said that so easily. Did you just break up with him? Did you just cancel your anniversary date? He’d take everything back on his knees right now if he had to.

“N-Now, now, (Y/n) that’s not funny I-“

You gently slapped your reports into his face silencing him, “Mr. Gojo I will report you for harassment if you don’t use the proper honorifics to acknowledge me. It’s (L/n) to you, now if you’ll excuse me I have a mission to take on.”

It was good that your back was now facing the group, if not you’d have laughed at the sheer misery over Gojo’s face. If Gojo felt like playing games then surely he’d be fine with you playing along right? It was only fair right?

During your mission you were constantly being spammed text after text, all from one particular sorcerer. You could practically hear his voice whining in your head as you read each text while taking out a weak demon. This was far to amusing.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n: Please stop bothering me, I’m working. I’m sure your lovely fans would die to entertain you.

Satoru: (Y/n)! Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry. We’re okay right? You aren’t really leaving me right?!

Y/n: I’m not mad Gojo, you’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. I’ll look for someone who’s healthier for me, less needy for attention and more considerate of my feelings. Goodbye.

Satoru: NO (Y/N) PLEASE DON’T SAY THAT! I’LL BE GOOD I PROMISE! (Y/N)!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but cackle at the flood of pleading and begging that graced your phone. Within a night you were finished with your mission, having successfully killed all the curses around you with minimal damage to the surrounding property. Your students welcomed you back with open arms, all of them glad that you were back safe and sound. Kugisaki was glued to you by the hip, asking about your mission. Itadori was happily enjoying the treats you’d brought back, and Fushiguro was holding your free hand as you all walked to the training grounds.

“So did you actually leave Gojo?”, Fushiguro asked.

“Oh of course not I’m just making sure he learns his lesson. I’m not one who likes to have her emotions played with, so if he wants to be childish for some attention I’ll gladly ruin his plans.”, you smiled.

Your three students all giggled at your evilness, as if his ears were burning Gojo appeared in his civilian clothes, dark glasses shielding his lovely blue eyes from the public.

“Satoru Gojo.”, you nodded your head as a simple greeting watching his lips quiver into a frown.

“(Y/n) please stop this. I’m sorry, okay? I won’t ever do it again I promise.”, he closed the gap between you, forcing your students to pull away and watch the drama unfold.

You glared into his eyes and scoffed, “Yeah right. You’re a natural flirt and you’re a cocky asshole. If you want someone who will fall head over heels for you then look elsewhere. You know men like that aren’t my cup of tea, you should know that best of all.”

Gojo sighed and nodded his head, “I know. It took me six years just to get you to go on a date with me.”

“It sure did and the next time you pull a stunt like this I’ll make sure you’re forced to apologize for six more years before I let you court me again.”

It took a moment for Gojo to let your words settle but once they did he couldn’t help but smile and hold you tight.

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”, he whispered.

“Yeah whatever, you were the jerk making me insecure about myself, it was only right that I gave you the silent treatment.”, you faked a sob earning a small whine from your partner.

Gojo swears he didn’t mean to make you insecure and hugs you tight. You look over his shoulder at your three students and stick your tongue out in a fake gag watching them laugh at his misery. It served him right.

꒰ 𐙚 warmth — satoru gojo ꒱

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you knew he wouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you'll see, princess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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