LOVE_119

FREE CONGO 🇨🇩 FREE SUDAN 🇸🇩 FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸 06

[kailkailz]

I HAVE DECIDED IN 2024 TO RUN FOR FOR PRESIDENT!!! 🇺🇸

I'm just saying if y'all vote me as president of USA the first black woman ever

Not only will I get rip of the Racist the Zionist the sexist the people in power the boy moms Inflation gas prices internet censorship laws Israel... rude Old people the people who work for wattpad the housing Crisis school shooting and the Brutality against poc etc

If you don't want this then vote for me in 2024

Just saying y'all.

[lacystarss]

street racer! sukuna hates asking teasing mechanic! reader for help

sukuna’s garage was an absolute mess.

oil-stained rags on the floor, random tools and parts lying around, dirty hands on the verge of pulling out every strand of hair on his head. he had been working in the garage for hours at this point.

so why - why - was nothing working?

he did everything he could. replaced the fuel pump. cleaned the injectors. put in new spark plugs. tested every sensor. all for nothing. the car sounded like a dream in neutral, but every time he accelerated past 30 mph, the damned car stalled out.

just his luck that his car would start having problems the night before a big race.

that’s why he’s been sitting outside your shop for the past twenty-seven minutes debating on if he should swallow his pride or go home and hope he can figure it out himself. sukuna’s phone dinged. a text from uraume:

talk to her

she’s the only one who can help you

he didn’t even bother responding to that. he doesn’t need anyone telling him what to do. you’re the last person he’d ever need help from… but he’s running out of time and options. so what does he do?

sukuna stared at the sign above the shop. his eyes followed down to the flashing OPEN sign, of course you’d still be open this late at night. his fingers drummed against the steering wheel. he doesn’t want to deal with you...

“fuck it.” sukuna grumbled before going in.

the bell above the door twinkled as he opened it. the shop was quiet. there was always a sense of calm this time of night in your shop — like the quiet after a storm. all the power tools had been turned off and put to charge. a soft hum of the overhead fluorescent lights.

“guess hell finally froze over, huh?” a wicked smile on your lips as you approached the front desk. your coveralls were halfway on, tied around your waist. hair pulled back into a curly bun.

“fuck you.” but sukuna was eating the words he said only years prior. claimed he’d never need you. said hell would freeze over before he’d ever ask for your help. boy, was he starting to regret that now.

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that.” your smile widens.

you had noticed him sitting outside the shop, it’s hard to not notice a car like sukuna’s. his car sounded like a purring tiger when in neutral. anyone who knew anything about cars or street racing knew that sound was unique to sukuna and only sukuna.

he was the king of underground racing for a reason.

he exhaled slowly out his nose, trying to keep his calm. “i’m not in the mood.”

“yeah, i can tell. you’re all pouty.” you nudged him.

“i need something fixed.”

“oh?” you could almost laugh at how reluctant he sounded. like he’d rather blow his car up than admit he needs you to fix something. “must be pretty bad if you came to see little ole me about it.”

choosing to ignore you, “it stalls out every time i go past thirty.”

“always thirty? not twenty-five? not forty?”

“thirty’s the limit before it stalls.”

“weird.”

sukuna rolls his eyes. “i know it’s weird, that’s why im here.”

“wasn’t talking to you.” you turned around to head to the back. “bring your car to the bay, i’ll check it out.”

he drove his car around and into the service bay. he shut off the engine and got out. he opened the hood for you and watched as you did an inspection of the engine. “you replace anything?”

“everything.”

“everything?”

“spark plugs, sensors, fuel pump, injectors, wiring, i even changed the oil.” he listed off. “don’t know what’s wrong the damn thing.”

“your problem is electrical, not mechanical.” you explained. “you fixed everything that could have been wrong mechanically, but if the car stalls at thirty every time, the problem is electrical. mechanical problems aren’t exact, electrical are.”

you think for a second. “you said you replaced the wiring?”

“yeah.”

“the wiring for what exactly?”

he shrugged. “a few lights, the ecu, the radio.”

“you mean my ecu? the same ecu i built?”

the ecu is the engine control unit. essentially, it’s the brain of the car. the sensors around the engine send information to the ecu, and the ecu decides to how to run the engine accordingly. without an ecu, a modern performance car can’t run.

that’s why you built your own. most of your customers are street racers, so you learned how to build a standalone ecu to replace the factory made ones without the limitations. think about it like this: if the manufactured ecu was a computer, it’d be limited to medium graphics. which isn’t bad for casual use, but for someone who needs speed and clear graphics, it’s better to upgrade. or in this case, build your own.

you built and programmed that ecu specifically for racing. so why in the hell would sukuna go messing around with it?

“it’s in my car, it’s mine.”

“like hell it is.” your eyebrows furrowed. “i only gave it to you to spite you. it has been absolutely bliss knowing that every victory you have is because of me.”

god, he hated you. so, so much.

sukuna hated that you were right. he built his own ecu years ago but it was nothing compared to yours. he couldn’t go back to it, despite you rubbing it in his face. “so what? you want me to thank you? to devote all of my wins to you?”

“i want you to not touch my shit.”

“fine, fuck! i won’t touch it.” he exhaled a deep breath, trying to keep the last of his sanity. “just fix the car.”

“you’ll owe me.”

“how much?”

“a favor.”

of course you would never let things be easy. “what’s the favor?”

“mmm… don’t know yet.” you shrugged. “i’ll think of something eventually.”

“i’d rather pay you.”

“i don’t want your money.”

“what do you want?”

that precious, wicked smile returned. “for now? i just get to enjoy knowing you owe me.”

“you are an evil, little woman.”

“don’t forget genius!” you say pushing him aside to start working on the car. hands deep in the hood as you started to carefully unplug and unattach the wires connected to the ecu. you noticed many things wrong with it: the replacement wires were not the right type, the wires were not attached properly, and the high-performance MAP was corrupted.

sukuna is an idiot.

“you’re an idiot.” you say. “it’s no wonder the car keeps stalling out, it’s not even wired in properly.”

“but you can fix it?”

“duh, i built it.”

you spent the next few hours fixing everything sukuna did wrong. you threw out the bad wires he bought and replaced them with the correct wiring. after ensuring the wires were in properly, you got started on the fun part. instead of trying to fix the high-performance MAP, you replaced it entirely, giving sukuna an complete upgrade.

the corrupted MAP was decoding the signals wrong. instead of accurately decoding the temperature and boost pressure, it believed the engine was overheating and to prevent damage, it shut itself off.

the upgrade came from the tuning. sukuna sat next to you, watching closely. he said he wanted to know what to do if this happened again but your face quickly shut that idea down.

under no circumstances was sukuna to ever touch your ecu again.

with your laptop connected to the ecu, you began tuning everything. faster throttle response and ignition timing, higher rev limiter, controlled boost pressure, upgraded fuel mixture. you upgraded everything and made this one better than the first.

you had finished sometime around 2am. you were tired but felt accomplished and successful. you had exceeded yourself. closing your laptop, “alright, it’s done.”

“that’s it?”

“wanna go for a test drive?”

sukuna didn’t need to be asked twice. he buckled up and backed out. he slowly increased his speed, keeping a careful eye on the rpm. 10… 20… 30… 40… 50.

you did it. he exceeded the 30mph limit and didn’t stall. in fact, he felt better. faster, smoother, more agile. he had no doubts about the race tomorrow. he was going to win.

he dropped you back off at the shop. watching you get out and head back inside without so much as a thank you or a goodbye. but even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was glad he came tonight.

there really is no replacement for you.

BONUS SCENE:

it had been six weeks since you fixed sukuna’s car. six weeks since he owed you a favor. he’d never admit it but it was driving him crazy. every time he got a call or text, he felt a sense of anguish that you were cashing in on your ridiculous favor.

he’s had enough.

it was a bit past midnight. the service bay garage door were open. he pulled his car in and got out. “cash it in.”

you wiped your hands on a rag. “am i supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“the favor.” he said like you were oblivious. “cash it in.”

“i haven’t thought of anything yet.”

“so think.”

“but i like knowing that you owe me.”

“y/n.”

ooh, he’s getting increasingly irritated if he’s saying your name. let’s think… what’s the one thing sukuna hates most in this world? people, yes. but other than that? sappy, physical affection. it irks him beyond belief.

“you’ll do whatever i ask?”

he’s already suspicious. “within reason.”

you stand, holding your arms out wide. “give me a hug.”

he’s silent for a moment. not in shock, just processing that that’s your favor. he spent all this time stressed over… what, a damn hug? he wasn’t going to do it anyway, but it’s the principle. “no.”

“you said whatever i wanted.”

“i said within reason.”

“it is within reason.”

“i’m not doing it.”

“then you can live with the fact that you owe me for the rest of your life.”

he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off your face. your little shimmy as you tried to entice him to come closer. you were dangling this favor over his head like a mistletoe. he just wanted to be done with you. reluctantly, “fine. i’ll do it.” he pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was bracing himself for the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

he took a few steps to close the gap between you. he watched your arms wiggle as you smiled up at him. it pained him to wrap his arms around your torso, hands lingering at your waist. it was stiff and uncomfortable and possibly the worst hug ever received.

could be a new guinness world record.

after a moment, he pulled away quickly, as if touching you would give him some rare, contagious disease. “never talk about this.”

“aw, and i thought we were having a sweet moment.”

“i hate you.”

“likewise, honey.”

in truth, you never had a favor in mind. you just wanted an excuse to see him again.

as promised, the mechanic version. not all that confident in the banter but i hope it’s decent. thanks for reading, you’re so angel baby face 🙃 @keipurra

[m-3-rcil-3-ss]

I hate when people write my whiney pathetic men as doms

[stqrfirez]

HAPPY ACCIDENT

pairing: s3 rue bennett x fem!reader

content: smut.. just smut.. dom!rue? kinda? fingering. not proofread.

MDNI !!

When Rue was sent by Laurie for a drug delivery out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, she wasn’t expected to be thrown directly into a crowd of beautiful women. Most of which were nude, or scantily clad.

You were among that crowd, gyrating your hips in perfect sync to the beat of whatever rap song was vibrating through the speakers.

You spotted Rue long before she noticed you. You deliberately moved yourself closer, deliberately schemed until eventually you knew exactly what you could do.

You played it off as an accident, gasping as your bikini top fell, the ties loosened. Rue was the closest person. It was no accident.

It didn’t take much.

A few hours later, Rue had you on her lap, knuckles deep in your pretty pussy. “Feels good? Not too much?” She questions attentively, humming against your neck. Your back is pressed snugly to her chest, her free hand gently holding your legs open.

“Yeah,” you whine. “Feels good,” you manage between whimpers.

“Good,” Rue replies, grinning against the side of your neck.

[m9lia]

We (yes we) LOVE black characters in anime.

[daydreaminrkive]

TRIAD

Cameron Cade x Black Fem!Reader x Black Fem!OC Soraya Monroe

Note: I read a series by @thebumblebeesworld about Smoke and Annie finding a third and was OBSESSED! Sooo I felt like I needed to write a lil trouple-ish vibe for Cameron because I FEAR I love a good MxFXF. This is my first fic on Tumblr too soo...yeah ;)

Synopsis: It’s homecoming weekend, which means hella festivities, going down memory lane, and running into people you used to know. One of those people is an ex-girlfriend, your first love. It's been a few years, but you couldn't deny how good she looked. Liquor turns into liquid courage, and one thing leads to another…..

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!!!)

Word count: 5.9k+ (I needed to build the plot:/ but hey 3k words of smut)

Warnings: Reader and OC are Bi/Pan, Mid to late 20s! Cameron and Reader, no use of Y/N, MxFXF, PWP( gotta set the mood I fear), sub!reader, mean dom!Cameron, switchy?!oc, unprotected sex, dirty talk, descriptive smut, Black-coded! reader, oral sex( m. & f. receiving), fingering, choking, spit (mild), spanking, daddy kink, degradation, use of AAVE(ofc), and other nasty shit. NO OVERLY HARD SHIT (not my style)

Dividers credits: @/designlikenonsense

"Why you so quiet?”

Even with the bass of the music becoming a second pulse in your body, he still noticed your sudden silence. You were a woman of words. Yet, in this lively moment, you couldn't bring yourself to live up to those standards.

He was Cameron Cade, an idol to many, but to you, someone you considered a soulmate. You two shared many moments, thoughts, laughter, and love over the past three years. Building each other up and giving unconditional love was the standard for you two. Cameron was introduced to you by a close friend interning with the San Antonio Saviors. You weren’t into sports, but you couldn’t turn down the opportunity to meet his fine ass.

To say dating Cameron was fun was an understatement. You didn’t expect that courting from someone like him. Shallow? Perhaps, but you knew how niggas could act when they were as prominent as he was. He was genuine, to say the least, a man of action and someone who always knew what to say. Even when you two became official, the effort never stopped. Y’all’s relationship stood on the terms of private but not a secret.

Although you had a guard on your heart at first, it was difficult not to fall.

The question brought you back to your reality rather than to the perplexity of your mental state. Your focus shifted to the man in question. Your warm eyes met his cool ones, filled with the same question that fell from his lips.

A blink turns into two before words finally meet you.

“I’m good. I was thinking,” you say, leaning into his ear.

Not a lie but missing the fine details you normally felt safe sharing. Cameron made you feel safe, but you couldn’t help thinking about the possibility of judgment.

The truth was that your brain was frazzled, not just from the hour of pregaming prior, but because of the presence of someone who had once taken Cameron's place. Despite the dark setting of the lounge hosting one of the many homecoming festivities that night, you couldn’t help but notice her when she walked through the overwhelming number of bodies, trailing behind her line of friends. And because you noticed her, you knew it was only a matter of time before she noticed you.

Cameron tilted his head, nonverbally signaling he was looking for more than that vague answer. You lean back, meeting his eyes again. He held the contact, almost like he was reading the unspoken words from inside your eyes. But luckily for you, he didn’t press his curiosity. His attention focused on a question from his friend, the boyfriend of one of your friends, Elijah, instead, making you release a breath you didn’t notice you held.

Before you could enter your head again, the slow, sensual beat of 3am by Loe Shimmy ft Don Toliver filled your ears and possessed your body, making it sway to the beat.

“OHHH this your shit girllll!” Your homegirl Nadia hollered.

Nadia loomed over you from her position on the couch, accompanied by a few of your other friends, all equally intoxicated. She helped you up and started mimicking your earlier action. Together, you both sang the lyrics as if you owned a share of the rights. You brought your phone out to capture the moment; filming you two, cheek to cheek, body to body, not caring about the way you two looked at that moment.

Almost like the DJ knew your playlist; each song transitioned to something that kept you and your girls up. Soon the hype died down, mostly because y’all were tired and ready to take another shot.

You sat down, facing inward in the section, Cameron to your right, talking dramatically to Elijah and Nadia, when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You were met with the sight of that beautiful face, the one you hadn’t seen up close in a long while.

…

Soraya Monroe, a lovely name that reflected her own beauty. At 5’8, she was always dressed in a way that made it clear she was passionate about it. Sweet and alluring yet resilient and assertive. Deep brown skin that always carried a fragrant scent of vanilla and shea, a scent combo that ingrained so many memories.

You met her as you walked through a crowded courtyard on a warm, breezy Wednesday afternoon. You were a freshman; she was a sophomore. It was the start of the fall semester, with tables showcasing organizations, clubs, and vendors. At the Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc. table, Soraya wore a crown and sash reading “Miss Krimson and Kreme 20XX”; her striking face and smile captivated you. She persuaded you to join an activity and bantered lightly before you moved on. 

By the end of the school year, you both were working to make your relationship official. It continued throughout your final years of college, until, once she graduated, the distance between you two seemed to cause more harm than good.

She was your first love, no doubt. Soraya was a breath of fresh air, a prime example of the ideal college lover.

…

“Damn, it's been a minute! How are you?” Soraya yelled to be heard over the music. She leaned in to initiate a hug, which you welcomed almost instantly; you were met with the warm scent of mature, caramelized vanilla replacing the scent that lingered in your memories.

“I’m good it's been forever! How are you?” You pulled back from the hug, admiring how the colored lights reflected off her rich brown skin. You could say you had a type for good-looking people.

“I’m doing well," she said with a smile in her eyes. “My mom asked about you recently, so I was hoping to see you around," she admitted, tilting her head to the side, letting her eyes roam your figure. That made you smile a little, not sure whether it was the mention of her mom or the way she looked at you. You didn’t get to let it linger in your head too much before your friends pulled her over to greet her.

 “Who is that?” Cameron asked, leaning over to you.

“Soraya,” you replied, pulling your dress down as if it would get rid of your nerves.

Your college love story wasn’t a secret. In the earlier stages of your relationship, Cameron asked you whether you had ever been in love, you told him about her. Honestly, it was impossible to talk about undergrad without her being mentioned at least twice.

Cameron hummed softly, glancing at her as she engaged with your friends. Soraya turned her attention back to you, now aware of the man sitting beside you. Cameron's presence was noticeable, hard to miss at 6’5, but in your presence, she could care less about who else was around.

“Soraya, this my boyfriend Cameron. Cameron, this is Soraya,” despite stating the obvious, you still felt the need to make a proper introduction. They both greeted each other with smiles and waves. The interaction seemed almost surreal. You never would have thought it would happen.

“Nice to finally put a face to a name,” Cameron said in a tone you knew well. He was teasing, looking for a reaction. Soraya read people well, so it wasn’t surprising when she returned the same glint.

“Is that right?” she hummed, her eyes focusing solely on you again. “You be talkin' bout me?

It wasn’t just what she said. It was how she said it. Soraya had a natural way with words and a charm that her momma would say could "convince someone to take a charge for her." Did you have a type for people like that?

Many would agree, because Cameron also had that trait. You were a sucker for smooth talk.

A more sober you would’ve shied away from the question, responding with something to soothe the burning in your ears. You suck your teeth instead: “Girl, please, like you anybody to talk bout,” you playfully roll your eyes before grabbing a cup from the table to fill with water.

“Your mouth still slick as fuck, don’t be acting brand new in front of your lil boyfriend,” she sent a dismissive wave your way, eliciting a chuckle out of Cameron. She continued, “I be hearing you ask bout me, so I must be sumn to talk about.”

You cover a laugh with a sip from your cup. She was right. You have asked about her from time to time. Y’all had multiple friends you both shared. It wasn’t any beef between y’all, but it never crossed your mind to just text or call.

After a brief back-and-forth between you two, she was dragged away to stroll with her sisters. 

Cameron was thoroughly entertained, even though he had to lean in to hear most of the conversation. He could see how she got you; she was, to say the least, enticing.

The night progressed, and the music kept getting slower and more lustful. You stopped drinking, knowing your limit and that you wanted something other than a blackout tonight. Between the liquor and the music, you didn’t know which sparked that sensual need in you first.

Cameron looked good and smelled good, and you wanted nothing more than a taste.

PartyNextDoor's voice sang the lyrics of his song 'Deeper,' drawing you deeper into that craving sensation.

 The rhythm of your waist matched the beat of the song, your body connecting itself to Cameron’s. You were bent over with your hands on the table in front of you, while Cameron, leaning back on the couch, watched from behind. His hand shifted from holding your hips to rubbing down the side of your legs. Despite your friends and onlookers cheering you on, you were in your own world. You were focused on chocolate brown eyes, instead of the blue-hazel ones of the man behind you.  She held your gaze, her teeth slowly biting the inside of her lip. She stood a few feet away, sipping on a cup full of some cocktail, swaying to the beat of the song but not like how you were showing out. You smirked a little before slowly bringing yourself up, deciding to stay seated on Cameron’s lap.

“You should’ve just gone over there and did that shit on her,” Cameron said, pressing a knuckle under your chin to bring your ear to his mouth.

You jerked your head back.

“What you mean?” You blurted.

Was it that obvious? You didn’t mean for it to be. Your dazed mind began to scramble for an apology. Cameron let out a breathy laugh, his lips twitched up into a smirk.

“I ain’t slow baby, I seen that shit. You showing out for her ain’t it?”  

“It’s not like that. I wasn’t trying to dis-“

Cameron pressed a kiss to your lip, stopping you from overexplaining. Although your sexuality was fluid, you didn’t conform to the double standards of “since it’s a woman, it doesn’t count as cheating,”.

“Nah, you acting out for her. You wanted her to see that shit, and now you got her attention,” his words had a provocative undertone to them. That tone triggered a natural arousal response in your body because of years of his conditioning.

The last statement made you look over at her again. Just as Cameron said, you were met with the sight of her gaze once again being on you. She teasingly tilted her head to the side as she finished her drink, as if challenging you. In that moment, you had to remind yourself that other people were around, and you knew your friends wouldn’t take long to put two and two together. Your eyes drifted away, landing on the other people occupying the section. Everybody was still enjoying the music and being together.

So many thoughts flooded your mind. You needed to make it clear that it wasn’t just the liquor whispering devilishly now. That craving persisted, no matter how quickly you tried to reprimand it.

“You imagining that shit ain’t you? What you tryna do, huh baby?”  he directed his words to your soul. Cameron always encouraged you to express your wants and desires openly. While it hadn’t been an issue in your relationship for a while, it now seemed like a taboo.

“Now you quiet.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, it irritated you. “You acting scary as fuck right now. I thought you wanted to show out.”

You hummed along to the slow R&B song playing in the black truck as the streetlights and car headlights became the only sources of illumination. Your back pressed into Cam’s side, his arm falling over your left shoulder and into your lap, where your fingers intertwined. Your eyes were closed, soaking in the feeling of acrylic-covered fingertips tracing lazy shapes across your knee. You wondered whether the driver could sense the heat coming from behind.

The car slowed, pulling into the driveway of Soraya’s house. Almost coincidental that she moved to the city a year ago. Maybe the night was meant to be.

Her house felt cozy, and even without meeting its owner, it was clear a Black woman lived there.

After the short decision of reassurance, you found yourself sitting between them again, but this time the desire, the need was undeniable.

Cameron's soft lips were on yours. He guided you with a hand around your throat. Nothing but the slow, sensual glide of tongue. Eagerness from you, control from him. Soraya watched the movement, pressing her body into yours for a clear view. Her eyes were low with lust. Her plush bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her fingertips trailed up your thigh, lifting the fabric of your dress a bit before her hands settled on top of Cameron's.

"Don't be so stingy, Cam," she drawled, whining his name just a little. His ear perked at the sound of it leaving her lips. For a moment or two, their eyes met, lust glazing their irises.

The man's hand left your neck and rested on your cheeks instead. Your cheeks puffed up slightly under his touch as he turned your head toward her. Your lips locked immediately, and the kiss felt needier, more lewd.

Cameron's hand moved down, reclaiming his dominance by gripping your right thigh and pulling it over his. You clenched out of instinct but relaxed into the position as his hand lifted your dress to your hips.

His middle and ring finger pressed into the fabric of your wet panties. Long, manicured fingers rubbed slowly, applying more pressure where your clit thumped.

Soraya's lips filtered the moan you let out. Your fingers dug into the velvety, soft cushion underneath you. She moved her lips away a bit, sticking her tongue out, prompting you to do the same, turning the kiss nastier than it was before.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from you, a string of spit following the departure. She looked down to where Cameron's fingertips controlled the whine of your waist. Her gaze followed the man's tanned arm, his untouched neck, finally landing on his eyes. She admired how delectable the man looked.

"I wanna see how wet she is," she said in a demanding tone, the sharpness softened by a smooth purr.

"Ion do that demanding shit. You better ask the right way.” His demeanor became stricter, but he was still searching for a sign of discomfort in her.

The demand triggered the same reaction in the women. Your attention shifts between their faces, indulging the feeling of being an outsider.

Soraya licked her lips and tilted her head with an innocent look, a pout forming on her attractive face. "Can I see her pretty pussy, please daddy?"

Soraya knew exactly how to get her way.

Her nasty words sent a chill over your body, igniting more heat and need against the fingers that had stopped moving. Cameron's jaw flexed as his pink lips slid between his teeth while he digested her words. She was going to be the death of you both.

The pout of her lips lured him in. The kiss was heated, almost too natural to be their first. The view of them turned you on more. Cameron pulled back, smirking at the way she followed him.

“You got a nasty ass mouth.”

He provided her with the view she desired, but not before suggesting that you all move out of the living room.

You ended up with your back to his chest, trembling hands holding the back of your knees, making sure to keep them out of the way. Cameron leaned back slightly on the ottoman bench in front of Soraya’s bed, once again holding you close with a hand around your neck. Two thick fingers fucking deep into your creaming pussy, the sound of it, along with your moans and whines, filled the warm yet cool conditioned air.

Your body was now fully exposed, bare under their hungry gazes. Your head lulled back into the man's still-clothed shoulder. Your wetness created a wet spot on the crotch of his jeans. It didn’t bother him, and it wasn’t even a thought to you.

Soraya sat back on her knees, her hands braced against Cam’s knees, her eyes focused on the mess you were making. She was just as exposed, having been told to be so after she undressed you. Her skin reflected the low, warm glow from her lamp. She was waiting for the opportunity to taste you. Her brain reminded her of the old days, the days when she would have you spread out on a twin XL with a hand covering your mouth so your roommates wouldn’t hear.

As if he read her mind, Cameron pulled his fingers out of you and placed them to her lips, but not before sending a smack to your glistening heat. Her lips wrapped around them, savoring the taste, wanting more. She removed them in a teasing manner before leaning forward, pressing an eager tongue against you.

“What I told yo’ ass about asking?” his spit-covered finger wrapped around her mid-high bun, instantly pulling her back. “It’s cool, you gon learn tonight. Ain’t that right baby?” One thing bout Cameron is he never played that shit. And you knew he meant every word he said. You naturally had a slick mouth and your mother’s attitude. You had plenty of stories about being put through the mattress by that man.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk daddyyy. Pleaseee it's too much!”

Cameron’s fingers return to the punishing pace deep inside you, but this time his tongue helps him devour you. His free arm curled around your thigh, keeping you in place. Your left hand scrambled to ground you while your right held onto the back of Soraya's head as her tongue traced your brown areolas.

Cameron cherished the view, wanting to frame it.  The view of you, trembling from overstimulation, a deep crease between your brows, your brown skin taking on a golden hue in the light, and of Soraya, her plush lips wrapped around his lover’s nipple as her fingers found their way to her own mess. The pastel blue color of her nails complementing the deep pink between her fat, slick-covered pussy lips.

Your second orgasm overwhelmed you, causing a deep curve in your spine; the beauty of your brown irises no longer visible as you moaned, filling the space of the room. The vibration of Cameron’s drawn-out groan sent a jolt up your spine as his finger coaxed you through it.

You grabbed his face, body still winding down from the pleasure you endured, relishing the taste of yourself on his tongue.

Soraya expressed her feeling of being left out with a small whine, her fingers trying to soothe the ache of her clit. Your lips left Cameron’s, taking in the view of the girl’s curvaceous body, her lips slightly swollen from the assault of her teeth. Or yours, shit, maybe Cam’s.

“You so pretty Raya. I want you so bad.” You shifted your focus to Cameron, pushing a peak to his lips silently asking for permission before you vocalized it.

In an instant, Soraya took your place, lying down, knees pressed to her shoulders as her nails created indents on the skin of her ankles, spreading herself for you. The disgusting sound of slurping and muffled moaning came from you as you lost yourself in her sweet essence.

Your lips sucked on her clit before releasing it and flicking your tongue against it. Your fingers curled inside of her, settling to a rhythm that had her dripping, creating a puddle underneath her. Her body fought the urge to move her hands to pull you closer to her. Despite it being years since you last ate pussy, you were still an eater. 

The intensity of the scene had Cameron, now standing on the side of the bed after undressing himself, wrapping a hand around the base of his thick and heavy dick. Cameron knew how nasty you could be, but this was new for him. The captivating view of your back, lying flat on your stomach on the crème-colored comforter, forms a striking contrast with your brown skin. Your focused side profile links you to the woman who is contorting herself to indulge in the pleasure you gave her. Soraya's beautiful face held a pleading look. Her eyebrows knit together deeply as her watery eyes lock onto yours. Her nose wrinkled and her top lip was clenched between her teeth to silence her cries.

“I’m bout to fucking c-cumm! Uh huh, just like that babyyy.” Cameron flinched at the loud pitch of her sudden revelation. The sultry sound of her moans went straight to his dick, causing it to bob instinctively.  Soraya's ankles slipped from her hold, dropping to grind her heels into the covers as her walls contracted against your fingers. You sucked softly on her clit as you eased her down from her climax.  You pushed yourself up, ready to attach your lips to her, but Cameron stopped you.

“Bring yo’ ass over here,” he said in a tone that left no room for disagreement.

You crawled over to him, eyes admiring the view of his sculpted body for a bit. A harsh hand clutched your cheeks, tugging you up, knees digging into the soft mattress, to his lips as he ravaged the taste of Soraya off you. He had to lean over a bit to meet you, his length brushing against your thigh, gaining the attention of your soft hand. Your palm curled around it, none of your fingers meeting the tip of your thumb. You held the weight of it as Cameron disconnected his lips from yours. His opposing hand collided with your ass cheek, causing a recoil from the impact, making you buckle against him.

“Open yo’ mouth, stick that fucking tongue out,” you obeyed, allowing a string of spit to leave his mouth and land on your tongue. Swallowing before a hand on your throat pushed you back, not enough for you to fall back on the bed, just creating distance. Your hand still connected you to him.

You looked down at the space between you two, taking in the sight of the man’s throbbing length, aching for attention. He was thick from base to tip, his tip mirroring the rosy pinkness of his lips—a slight curve to the right that angled just right to make you leave your soul on it.

“You gon show yo’ lil girlfriend how to take this shit? Show her how nasty you get for it?” Soraya perked up at the mention of her, finding herself pressing against the sheening skin of your back. Her hands glided up the sides of your waist before finding comfort on your titties, using them as an anchor to remind you of her presence. Her lips suck love bites onto the skin of your neck.

“Yes daddy, can I please have it? I’ve been so good.” Drunk off dick you haven’t even gotten yet. The tension in the room makes you dizzy, overwhelming your senses.

His hand cupped Soraya's chin, thumb pulling at her bottom lip, forcing her attention to him. He expected her to beg just as filthy as she did in the living room.

“You want it too, baby?” his voice softened a bit but kept that edge to it.

“Yes, I want it so bad. I’ll be good, I promise. Please”

…

Cameron’s big body laid back on the mountain of pillows that decorated Soraya’s bed. Long legs caging you between them while Soraya leaned over his thigh, her stiff nipples brushed against his skin. You started slowly, giving them a show, pressing sweet kisses to the shaft and his tip, letting your tongue savor his arousal. Soraya, always being a visual learner, gave him the same slow and sensual attention as you held him at the base for her to take. Once she got comfortable, you two became fluid with each other, creating a mess that left his pubic area wet and slid down the man’s balls. Soon, the steady rhythm you set grew filthier, filled with the need you felt in your bones.

The wet, gargling sound of your throat making space for him filled his ears. Tears wet your hollowed cheeks, leaving faint streaks of your mascara. He was a lot to take, and you couldn’t be too cute for long. Your saliva bubbled along his punishing length, adding to the continuous mess.

“Yeahh, give me that fucking throat. Look at you making a mess,” Cameron groaned, holding the back of your head, not giving a fuck about adding to the mess your hair already looked like.

Soraya's eyes widened, not only with desire but also with shock at how explicitly lewd you looked right now. Your low and wet eyes stared into hers, occasionally looking up at Cameron to keep a mental note of his reactions.

Amongst the dirty, slippery sound of your mouth, Soraya’s pussy squelched as Cameron's fingers fucked into her. The gushy, slick sound amplified as he sped up his action. It didn’t take long for Soraya to wet up his palm with her cum. His glistening hand smacked down on the fat of her ass, soothing the sting with a chaste rub, signaling for her to get up. The hand on your head pulled you away from his dick.

Cameron positioned himself back at the side of the bed, cold floor sending a slight shiver to his warm body. He pulled you to him, putting you on your back with your leg falling back against your chest. One hand had fingers sprawled out on the plush of your thighs, the other gripped the slick base of himself, slapping the heaviness onto your clit. Your pussy bloomed with the constant arousal burning through you; your lips wobbled from the impact.

You watched as he guided the tip to your soppy entrance, pushing in with one deep thrust. The stretch was familiar, both of you moaning at the feeling. Working his fat dick into you, he set a pace that had you crying out his name. The curve of it pressed into that spot that had you gripping the cover, causing you to sit up slightly to get a better view of him taking your soul.

“That pussy gripping the fuck outta me,” he inhaled. “I’m making that pretty shit feel good, huh?”

You nodded, eyes rolling back, barely able to vocalize a coherent sentence. As if Cameron wasn’t making your body melt, Soraya moved down your body, getting a clear view of where you connected to the handsome man, sucking your pulsing clit between her lips, hooking her arm around your free thigh.

“O-oooh shit! N-no, no, too much,” you tried to push her off, hand pushing at her head, unknowingly pushing Cameron out of you a bit in the process. He bottomed out again, going back to his unforgiving strokes. You felt a wet sting on your cheek. Cameron's reddened palm lowered back to the grip on your thigh.

“Move your fucking hand!”

Your hands lie in defeat by your head.

Soraya continued devouring, her fingers slipping underneath you, rubbing your slickness over your second, clenched hole. Your head fell back against the bed.

“I’m s-s-sorry, why you doing this t’ me daddy?” You were trembling, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach signaling you were about to cum.

“Nghhh I’m bout to cum. Can I cum d-daddy?” You kept begging. It flowed out of your mouth absentmindedly.  

“Mhm. Give me that shit. Wet this dick up.” Cameron tilted his head back, eyes slipping shut, focusing on the sounds that left your body.

Your back arched deeply, eyes stuck to the back of your head. You climaxed, taking Soraya by surprise, causing her to jerk back to watch the gush of fluid leaving you. You coated the lower half of Cameron, pushing him out of you from the intensity, staining the cover underneath.

Greedily, Soraya rubbed her fingers side to side, coaxing more out of you. You shivered as you gripped her wrist in hopes of her letting up, and you pushed out a deep sigh of relief when she did.

“Damn girl, I forgot you could do that shit,” her words left her in the form of a laugh. “Almost drowned me.”

You didn’t think shit was funny.

Cameron’s dimpled grin irritated the fuck outta you, a smart remark taken away from you as you jolted from the slap he landed on your pussy.

You felt like your body was about to levitate.

The weight of Soraya’s body on you felt intimate. Your thighs were sprawled across her lower stomach; your pussy pulsed with arousal as her skin slightly glided against it. Your hands gripped the flesh of her twitching ass as Cameron ate her from behind. You could visualize it from the filthy sound of his tongue exploring her, taking her apart bit by bit.

Her face—oh so close—scowled in pleasure, her eyes struggling to hold your gaze. Her full breast rubbed against your stomach as her hand clenched the sides of your waist. Her sweet moans pitched and her body rocked harder, communicating that she just came.

Cameron came into view, spit, and her creamy juices glimmered on his lips and chin. Soraya turned her head to share a tongue-filled kiss with him before he straightened his back, pulling her back into a deep arch in front of him as his knees widened his stance on the bed.

“Tell me what you want,” he grunted out at the feeling of her slick skin grazing his tip.

“I want you to fuck me.” She whimpered, looking up at him with need filling her eyes.

“Beg for it. Ask daddy to fuck this pussy.” She hesitated a bit, not in defiance but from the tremendous amount of dominance that radiated from the man’s aura. Feeling impatient, you dug your nails into the fat you still held on to. That was enough for her to find words again.

“Can you please fuck me? My pussy is so wet for you, baby.” She brought a hand between her spread legs, two fingers spreading her lips to present herself to him. She let the filthy persuasions leave her lips until she was rewarded with the stretch of her walls welcoming him in.

Her hand shifted from her center to your pebbling titty, as her knuckles cracked on the other one from how hard she fisted the cover. He filled spaces in her no other man has ever done. She understood you. She understood why you whined so much earlier, pleads leaving your lungs like a prayer.

He continued to push in, testing her limits, gauging how much she could take. She was just as warm and tight as you were.

He could admit that he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Being with you already made him feel that way, but this was different.

Sinful.

Overwhelming.

Easy to overindulge in.

He slowly stroked her, letting her adjust. His hand laced with yours as he took in the view of how her walls hugged him.

“Faster! I can take it, pleaseee! I can take it,” she implored while fucking back into him, words drawing out into a whine.

He brought a leg up, planting it on the bed before his hips started to collide with her ass. The headboard struck the wall behind it, causing the pictures above to shake somewhat. Your hands moved. One sliding to the back of her neck, the other finding solace on your clit. You brought her face to your, swallowing her whimpering moans.

Cameron gripped her hips, pulling her back to meet his gut, arranging a thrust. Her ass applauded him for granting her wish. She struggled to kiss you back, mewling at the way he hit the spots inside her.

You broke off the kiss, looking up at Cameron with your tongue gliding over your bottom lip. The veins in his arm bulged, similar to the ones in his neck. His thick brows creased, his mouth slightly hanging open. Noticing your stare, he smirked at you, biting his lip in the process.

This was nice, but you were desperate for a different view. You signaled for Cameron to stop so that you could move from under the heat of Soraya. Your skin prickled from the exposure. You reassured him that you just wanted to see, and that you wanted to change your position. You didn’t expect him to change theirs too.

Soraya lay slightly on her side, back against Cameron's chiseled chest. Her chocolate thighs contrasted with the color of Cameron's pink-tinted beige skin as he held one in the crook of his arm. He held her close with a hand under her chin. Her free leg bent at the knee on the bed, blessing you with the view of their connecting bodies.

His thick length covered with the milky gloss of her juices. His ears filled with the wet slapping of his balls against her, the broken moans that left her lips. His vision fell on the sight of you pleasuring yourself to the nasty scene in front of you. Sitting up slightly with the aid of a pillow, spread out, allowing your fingers to plunge into your wetness. Eyes locked on each other, like it was just you two.

You came first, leaning back into the pillow, grounding yourself with a tight grasp on your own titty.

Soraya was not too far behind. The drilling on Cameron’s tip in her spot made her scramble. His fingers pressed down on her clit, keeping her from moving away.

You could tell Cameron was close. You crawled over as he pulled out of Soraya’s heat and replaced his hand with yours as you stroked him to ecstasy. He painted your hand and lips with milky white cum, a loud and throaty moan accompanying it.  

After bringing herself back to reality, Soraya wrapped her lips around his shaft, cleaning up the mixture of their mess. Moving her care to you, she licked into your mouth, pulling you into a nasty kiss. She pecked your lips a couple of times before pulling back, allowing you two to breathe.

…

The scent of the clean comforter set and the shirt Soraya lent you after you all got out of the shower centered you. Your brain was grasping onto the reality of everything that happened over the course of the night. Drowsiness begging your eyes to close, but your mind wouldn’t let you succumb to it.

The room was quiet; nothing but breathing could be heard.

“You good baby?” Soraya asked, running a nail up the back of her thigh.

You were more than okay.

You felt perfect.

You felt like you belonged here.

Between two warm bodies, lovers from different periods of your life.

You hummed, drunk in love almost.

She knew you. He knew you.

“We can talk about it later, okay?” Cameron's voice vibrated against your head on his chest. “You gotta get out yo’ head and go to sleep. I know you tired.”

That eased your mind, finally letting you drift off into sleep.

[tryksters]

they matched each others freak. 42 injured. 7 dead. 12 missing.

[feyrinnn]

i need like neednednebdned some jjk angst character doesn't matter much (i cant read suguru imsorry) but can u pls pls pls recommend some good angst fics?? i prefer good endings but bad endings are also okay

alright nonnie ready your heart here's some delicious angst for you (minus suguru) – some of these have a happy ending and some don't so make sure to check the tags and each authors rules!

do I look like her? by @alexiroflife dopamine by @madamechrissy sukuna takes on another concubine by @epicderpface hold me like a grudge by @starmapz twilight galaxy by @sukunahs missing pieces by @yenayaps sincerely not by @saintobio the one that got away by @indiewritesxoxo neverland by @musatoru the god who robbed heaven by @veejiez the crush theorem by @nezuscribe blue christmas by @sweetieelilii the beat of your heart by @ssorasky the ties that bind by @swearimnevergivingup vows of duty by @alygator77 you're presumed dead by @kunareads cheat by @reignpage something, somehow, someday by @hellowoolf we'll always have summer by @nanamiskentos

[feyrinnn]

i need like neednednebdned some jjk angst character doesn't matter much (i cant read suguru imsorry) but can u pls pls pls recommend some good angst fics?? i prefer good endings but bad endings are also okay

alright nonnie ready your heart here's some delicious angst for you (minus suguru) – some of these have a happy ending and some don't so make sure to check the tags and each authors rules!

do I look like her? by @alexiroflife dopamine by @madamechrissy sukuna takes on another concubine by @epicderpface hold me like a grudge by @starmapz twilight galaxy by @sukunahs missing pieces by @yenayaps sincerely not by @saintobio the one that got away by @indiewritesxoxo neverland by @musatoru the god who robbed heaven by @veejiez the crush theorem by @nezuscribe blue christmas by @sweetieelilii the beat of your heart by @ssorasky the ties that bind by @swearimnevergivingup vows of duty by @alygator77 you're presumed dead by @kunareads cheat by @reignpage something, somehow, someday by @hellowoolf we'll always have summer by @nanamiskentos

[hotties4gojo]

ᨳଓ ·˚ shampoo dreams

⋆.˚ pairing: bf!geto x reader x bf!gojo

after a long day, it’s no surprise that you’re left with no energy to take care of yourself, let alone clean up and drag yourself off to bed. luckily for you, your two boyfriends— satoru and suguru, the infamous strongest duo who are as weak as kittens for you— take it upon themselves to bathe you and wash your hair. princess treatment has never felt this good.

⋆.˚ content: SFW but MDNI 18+, fem!reader, canon jujutsu universe (alt au where geto doesn’t defect), fluff fluff fluff, humor, established polyamorous satosugu x reader, gojo and geto are WHIPPED for you and for each other, domestic intimacy, a fair amount of suggestive jokes (but the entire fic stays non-sexual), mentions of battle wounds & scars

a/n: this is a requested drabble for the non-sexual acts of intimacy prompts “taking a bath together” and “having their hair washed by the other” for a fewww different anons 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽 hope you all enjoy cos this was sm fun to write 💓 masterlist.

fanart © zenlune, divider © kodaswrld. wc: 4.7k.

Bathwater laps softly at the porcelain edges of the tub, warm enough to turn your skin dewy beneath the draping of steam that hangs hazily over the air like a wedding veil. The bathroom's steeped in the mellow glow of an amber and blossom-pink sunset filtering through the windows that overlook Tokyo. More jasmine-sweetened steam drifts in languid, translucent ribbons from the oversized tub fashioned to fit three (thanks, Gojo clan money).

Lounging with your lovers, everything is pleasantly heavy— your limbs, your eyelids which have long fallen together, your subdued thoughts— and softened by the calming ease of being in Suguru's and Satoru's presence.

You sit between them, back resting against Satoru's steadily beating chest, his ridiculously long legs fallen open for you to sit between them with all the careless assurance of a man who has never once worried about taking up space. Suguru rests against the opposite edge of the tub with one arm curled along the rim and his legs similarly extended. Satoru's and Suguru's calves and thighs skim against each other where they border yours beneath the water, neither inclined to break the comfort of simple touch.

"You've gone quiet." Suguru's observation echoes off the tile.

"Mhm." Your answer is only half there.

"You awake?"

"Ehhh… Kinda sorta, sorta kinda," you mumble, seesawing a hand.

Satoru leans forward until his forehead lightly bumps your nape. "No sleeping yet, pretty girl. Ragdolling while we try to get you clean is a surefire way to go down Ben Drowned-style,” he teases.

You whine a little in protest even though the reference makes your lips tick. "But you guys made me so comfortable already..."

And they truly have.

The bath had been waiting for you before you'd even thought to ask for one. Actually, the idea was planted in Satoru and Suguru's heads the moment you texted that you were dead-tired and grimy to the group chat from the back of Ijichi's car. You had been the only one to head out on a mission today, Satoru spending the day teaching and training the first years and Suguru mirroring him with the third years— Satoru had weaseled his way into a full hands-on day with his students, claiming he needed somewhat of a break, and Suguru spent most of his time teaching rather than hunting curses anymore, anyways.

(You and Satoru have been on the offensive with the higher-ups for years to nail down this arrangement for Suguru. Sure, Suguru still took on the occasional mission when everyone else was stretched thin by their own duties, but for his mental health’s sake, it was best that he stuck to guiding and nurturing the current generation.

You never want to see him as hollowly depressed as he was after everything that went down when he was a student.)

When you'd finally wandered into your shared house with knotted shoulders and your thumbs aggravatedly digging out the soreness from your temples, both your boyfriends snatched you up at the genkan and herded you like wildly insistent border collies to the master bedroom's ensuite, which had been transformed into a luxury spa during your twenty minute commute.

Towels were folded up in their warmer, candles swaying happily, the massive tub brimming with fragrant bathing oils and mineral salts— literally the whole nines. All the tiny things you'd long forgotten mentioning you preferred for a long soak were present, that information lovingly archived inside two impossibly attentive minds.

Before you could burst into happy tears at the lengths they went to for you, Suguru helped peel away your clothes before passing you off to Satoru, who offered both hands the moment you stepped toward the siren call of the water on sore legs, smoothly bowing as though escorting you into a ballroom instead of a bathtub.

Between them, lowering yourself into the steaming water (which was the fucking perfect temperature, holy hell) was less like climbing into a bath— another chore to hustle through before bed when you were already so worn-thin— and more like mindlessly handing yourself over for what they both dubbed your 'princess treatment.'

Suguru's smile is a ray of gentle light coloring his words, "Are we supposed to apologize for being good boyfriends?"

"Yeah. And you have to live with the consequences," you sigh, slumping further back into Satoru. The water rocks with you.

"You hear that?" Satoru says to Suguru over your head. You feel his chin nestle into your crown, arms loosely coiling at your waist. "She's blaming and threatening us."

"This is what happens when we go out of our way and draw us all a nice bath, huh," Suguru kisses his teeth, theatrically disappointed in you and what his and Satoru's efforts have come to. "Shame. I guess we won't be doing this ever again."

That finally gets your eyes to crack, blinking past the steam shrouding your slivered vision. Suguru watches the both of you with a sleepy beam curling the corners of his mouth, midnight lashes dampened and beading at their tips from the humidity. In spite of his long hair being wound up in a picture-perfect bun straight from Pinterest— his thorough wash-day took place yesterday and he's in no hurry to rewash his hair all over again— the baby hairs coiling at his nape and hairline are helplessly frizzy, fallen victim to the moisture in the air.

Suguru's gorgeous, a fallen angel meant to tempt you into the salacious temptations of the forbidden— much like the equally stunning blue-eyed beauty cuddled up to your behind, fluffed up white hair as refreshing as winter's first snowfall and his innate charming smile ten times more devastating than the cursed techniques sown into his very DNA.

"Hey," you protest, somewhat impressed by how he's twisted this situation to his benefit. "I didn't say all of that…"

A big warm palm finds a home on your shoulder, the callouses at the base of Satoru's fingers dragging a satisfyingly scratchy path over your skin. "I didn't agree to that either. Who's gonna appreciate all our hard work and dedication to pampering her if not, well, our princess?" Satoru wonders aloud, each richly pronounced syllable traveling in a velvety rolling rumble through his chest to your back.

Suguru cocks a brow, though he soaks up the reminder with a smoothly executed drag of the wooden bath tray closer to the corner of the tub's edge. Fancy crystalized bottles rattle, winking rainbow prisms across the walls; the oceanic waves of Satoru's irises, the deep earthiness of Suguru's.

You see them in everything, the two men coloring the world you traverse in a gallery forever curated in their likeness, to the point that you couldn't name a single thing on this planet without your lovers tinting your glasses.

Sometimes, you wonder whether the sky was always that boundless, cotton-candy blue, whether the nature crawling dense coils up Tokyo Jujutsu High's mountain campus had always carried such comforting shades of chocolate-brown, or if loving them has simply trained your eyes to always pay homage to Satoru and Suguru. Whatever the case, you're ridiculously smitten.

"Appreciation isn't the point, Satoru," lightly sniffs Suguru.

You wish you could see the stupid grin smeared across Satoru's countenance as he counters, jokingly, "It absolutely is."

"It really isn't," Suguru deadpans, looking to you as if to say get a load of this guy. You giggle.

"I don't know about you, babe, but I wanna be praised for my generous deeds," Satoru announces. "It hits like a line of coke after a long day."

Suguru slowly nods his assent. "That is true… though in your case, I'd say that cake is more your style than coke of all things."

"Snoooore," you loudly mime, deadpanning.

Satoru's laughter sears through your skin, beating a hearty rhythm between your shoulder blades. Suguru fans his fingers over his mouth as he joins in on Satoru's chuckling, amusement blossoming in the air. "Alright, alright. The deluxe princess treatment package is on its way now, promise," Suguru sing-songs with a little flap of his hand, finally easing up now that he's found a way back on track. "Satoru, you'll wash her hair and I'll do her body?"

"For sure," he chirps.

Ah, how nice it feels to lounge around like prized, celebrated royalty without a care in the world while your boys work a plan to pamper you.

All it takes is a simple curl of Suguru's black-painted finger for Satoru to obediently thrust his hand past your head, palm paralleling the ceiling as Suguru pops the glass stopper of a bottle and drizzles a generous heaping of shampoo into his hand's cup.

Satoru loops his arms around your front and works the shampoo between deft palms before your eyes, vanilla and camellia blossoms wafting up to your face, which you dip towards the comforting smell with a hum. It's Suguru's favorite shampoo— you're always surprised when he shares some of it and his conditioner with you, given how he treats it like the holy grail that he alone was blessed and entrusted with.

(Even funnier how he flat out refuses to let Satoru get his hands on it. Not that the white-haired sorcerer cares all that much anyhow; he uses a 3-in-1 shampoo and calls splashing tap water on his face a 'proper face wash.' You'd think a man so prideful about his vanity would splurge on products to properly care for himself and his Adonis body— the same way he buys from luxury clothing brands on the daily— instead of winging it like a head-in-the-clouds college fratboy, but alas…

You've gotta give it to him though: his genetics are killer. Curse Satoru and the goddamned perfectly pretty Gojo bloodline. It's not fair for the rest of you 'simpletons' who actually have to put in the work to groom and maintain yourself in order to look even half as unfairly attractive as he does on a random Thursday morning. The universe shamelessly plays favorites, and Satoru is its dazzling golden child.)

"Tilt your head back for me," he murmurs, long fingers immediately finding your hair— already sufficiently wet— the second you obey.

Humming an absent tune that lulls you into closing your eyes once more, Satoru gathers up all your hair, his usual boundless energy replaced by surprising patience. You can envision the way he's likely got his tongue peeking slightly between his teeth as he smooths the shampoo down your head, working up a rich, pearly lather from your crown to your ends with painstaking care exactly as Suguru once taught him.

Nobody from Jujutsu Tech— not Shoko, not Ijichi, not even any of the students— would expect such gentleness from the strongest sorcerer alive. The same man that tears into curses with calculated, almost joyous violence and blows them apart with a well-placed Red and a dry “oopsies,” is unbelievably tender in his task of shampooing the outer layer of your hair before diving to your roots, firm yet gentle. Reverent, really.

His nails glide along your scalp in purposefully light scrapes that send shivers down your spine. A contented sigh escapes you before you can stop it. "Satoruuuu…" You subconsciously roll the r in the same purring cadence that Suguru speaks his name in.

"Yooo, chill," Satoru splutters behind you, sounding alarmed by who knows what.

Suguru fills in the blank with a suggestive smile and thinning of his eyes: "Moan my name next, baby. I'm feeling left out."

Ah. Curious, you shuffle your hips back further into the cradle of Satoru's pelvis, glad to feel a distinct lack of engorged arousal insistently pestering your back; he's as flaccid as the day he was born. Your foot goes splashing water Suguru's way next. He catches your ankle beneath the surface and chuckles sunnily beneath the playful heat of your half-hearted glare.

"You're such a hater," he chastises.

"Excuse me for trying to enjoy my bath and the princess treatment you both promised me while you two horndogs try to make something out of nothing," you say dryly, though the pretense of sarcasm is rendered null by the next (accidentally) suggestive noise that floats its way past your lips when Satoru tugs a strand of shampooed hair just shy of too roughly.

"I didn't mean to do that, sorry!" Satoru jumps to apologize, presuming you'll give him shit for it and kick him out. But the joint snickers that both men promptly share over your head informs you that they're not exactly remorseful; and they're not even trying to play it sly.

"There's gonna be floggers and pillories in my online shopping cart by the end of the night if you two keep it up," you warn even though you're chuckling yourself. "That, or a sounding rod for you to share."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," Satoru and Suguru innocently chorus.

Devils, the two of them.

But you're not any better, for you praise them in the sweetest purr possible, "Thank you. Good boys," and you all too joyfully reap the color budding across their already bath-flushed cheeks, tipping your head back against Satoru's shoulder to see his properly.

Suguru and Satoru: 1.

You: also 1.

You'll break that tie soon.

Fingers still wrapped in a delicate snag around your ankle, thumb sweeping over the protruding bone, Suguru one-handedly pumps a decent dollop of body wash into his palm, making a fist and dragging his fingers through it to warm it up a tad. "Lift your leg a little higher for me, sweetheart," he instructs, voice no louder than twinkling rain shimmering in silvery ribbons from the sky.

Conscious yet uncaring of the fact that you're already flashing him your most private parts (both your boyfriends have literally seen it all in every sexual and non-sexual scenario possible), you do just that, trusting that Satoru's solidity will keep you from sliding forward on your ass and submerging your face. Your hip flexor and quadricep tighten in a show of undemandingly easy dexterity— the movement of the latter has Suguru's eyes flicking down to watch as though you're his favorite film made human.

He scrunches his legs up in order to fit into the 'v' your own make. Shifting his grip to the back of your calf, he paints your skin in fragrant body wash from your foot, kneecap, to the crease connecting hip to thigh, coating you thoroughly and treating you to an impromptu massage along the way, thumbs kneading tenderly into muscle.

You're practically purring once he's done with your left leg. Suguru eases it back into the steaming bathwater and rinses you off with sweeping strokes of his broad hand until the jasmine-scented suds melt into the surface. Then, without breaking the tranquil rhythm you'd both settled into, he gathers your right leg in his grasp and starts anew from your foot upward, every motion as meticulous as the last.

You don't startle an inch when Satoru picks his task up again whilst Suguru works his soothing magic up your shin. Circles that bloom sweetness through your body are drawn into your scalp with the pads of Satoru's fingertips, thumbs gliding behind your ears before sweeping upward along your crown, coaxing the rich lather deeper through your roots.

His fingertips dance across your hair in broad, enthusiastic circles, working the shampoo in with enough vigor to make your head tip slightly. It's embarrassingly effective in making you lose track of where one minute ends and another begins. The little remaining tension loosens from your body like water through a sieve.

"Oh my godddd," you moan, blissful, completely swept up in their pampering that comes without a price. You melt between Satoru and Suguru without thinking, trusting the secure cradle of their bodies as completely as breathing itself. "This is exactly what I needed. This is heaven."

"You deserve only good things, especially tonight," Suguru murmurs affectionately, gently dunking your right leg and rinsing that one off, too.

"All the time, really," Satoru agrees. He leaves your hair once he's sure each strand is thoroughly lathered up. "Seeing you turn into a cute little puddle is the best bonus I could ask for. Just let us take care of you, yeah?"

He returns to you with a wooden rinse pitcher that Suguru hands to him. He cups warm bathwater into it, stray droplets sprinkling across the bath's surface when he pulls the pitcher free with an audible gulp of water. Anticipating what follows, you tip your head back and stay still as Satoru pours the first cascade of water over your head to cleanse you of the fragrant foam, his free hand shielding your forehead to keep it from spilling over your face.

"You wanna know a neat trick I thought of?" Satoru asks, voice overflowing with prideful excitement. You and Suguru rumble low noises from your throats at the same time, encouraging. "If Blue allows me to pull buildings apart at minimum output by drawing everything towards the impossibility, then it makes sense that if I put the tiiiiniest possible output into Blue—" you feel a tempered spike of cursed energy that makes the dampened hair at your nape prick to attention, "—the field of attraction is weak enough that I can siphon water from hair."

Before the dirtied water can rejoin the pooling bathwater lapping over you all, it peels from your hair like a clean, satisfying strip of tape as though the laws of nature, too, submit to the wonder that is Gojo Satoru.

You feel each saturated lock of hair lighten by degrees more than you see it. Suspended at your sides where you can spy it from the corner of yout eye, the extracted water gathers into a lazily revolving sphere no larger than a melon, pale with diluted shampoo that swirls in pearlescent ribbons beneath the bathroom's amber light. You can tell that Satoru's flicked his fingers behind you when it all goes gliding into a bucket by the tub— he probably thought to put it there in advance, you realize— with a muffled sploosh. Suguru whistles, impressed.

"There!" Satoru chirps, grin crystal-clear in his voice as though he'd unveiled the world's greatest scientific breakthrough instead of an absurdly overengineered bath hack using one of the greatest cursed techniques in history. "No gross rinse water in the tub."

"That was cool, Toru," you gush.

Suguru's laugh slips free in a quiet puff. "Good idea, baby."

The dual praise has Satoru radiating like an overjoyed sun behind you. "Right? Right?" He boasts with no modesty whatsover, chest jutting proudly against your back.

"You'll have to do that for my hair sometime, too," Suguru sighs longingly, tilting his head with a charmed look on his face. He's so cute. "I could use one of my curses, but Blue'll save me so much time. My hair's getting even longer than it already is, if you can imagine."

"Please never cut it," you and Satoru pipe up in genuine agony.

Suguru titters, enchanting brown eyes creasing in a blinding smile, brighter somehow for it. "Relax, you two. I won't. Aside from trimming split ends— knock on wood." He raps the wooden bath tray with his knuckles.

The exchange coaxes an involuntary smile of your own, the stretch of your lips so overly fond that your cheeks ache. It is so wonderfully, unmistakably the three of you— Suguru's easy indulgement forever balanced alongside Satoru's irrepressible enthusiasm and your habit of matching them both exactly where they stand.

Suguru re-lathers his hands to work on your abdomen, muscles fluttering in delicate butterly wings behind the bountiful garden of your skin at the ticklish feeling of his slickened touch; Satoru ladles another pitcherful over your head and repeats the process of gathering and discarding every soapy drop with Blue. Suguru glides soap up the valley between your perked breasts and beneath them as well, even massaging your tits without a lick of sexual intent; Satoru gives you one last rinse before passing curious fingers through your hair until the strands slide cleanly through his hands, gently teasing apart the few stubborn knots left over. The bathwater gently rocks against your ribs whenever they both shift, focused on their individual tasks but nonetheless in tune with one another.

By the time Suguru finishes off your front by washing your collarbones and shoulders and Satoru's just teased apart the few stubborn knots left over in your hair, your hair hangs sleek and impossibly clean, you're feeling squeaky clean from head to toe, and the bathwater around your bodies remains as clear as when you'd first slipped into it, aside from the body wash that's sluiced off of you.

You feel as though they’d somehow washed away not only the day's sweat and oils, but every bothersome thought that had settled there alongside them. You could seriously fall asleep any second without realizing you'd slipped into unconsciousness.

"Look at us working together in sync," Satoru lilts, signaling for the conditioner over your shoulder. Suguru hands it off from the bath tray without missing a beat. "The G.G. Salon is taking off."

"G.G.?" You ask, faint laughter already bubbling through your nose before he even elaborates. You're anticipating something so stupid that it's somehow funny.

"Get gucked," Satoru supplies, only to shriek a soprano's pitch and jackknife his leg through the water when Suguru aggressively pinches Satoru's big toe. "Yeesh, can't a guy joke around here? I meant the Gojo-Geto salon."

Suguru smiles serenely.

They make quick— but not rushed— work of the rest of your treatment. Suguru reaches between yours and Satoru's bodies to bathe your back while Satoru conditions the ends of your hair with the creamy fixture.

Clearing your hair of conditioner after it soaks in is easy as it was for Satoru with the shampoo. He splashes water along your back to finish off Suguru's work, and Suguru leans in to nuzzle a brief kiss against your forehead, lips lingering for only a second before he settles back against the tub's rim again, the picture of handsome relaxation. A moment later, Satoru cranes his head to smooch the side of your neck as if unwilling to be left out, then ducks past you to peck Suguru's mouth.

No words are needed in the wakeful peace that draws a curtain over you; you, Satoru, and Suguru seemingly come to a silent agreement to soak in the jasmine-fermented bath a while longer, all of yours eyes closed in bone-deep gratification. Heat loosens muscles and peels the firm grip of old aches and pains stemming from battles old and new, determined to ease your bodies that've been carved out from years and years of sorcerery. You only clamber out when the bathwater is cool enough to be drained, yours and Satoru's and Suguru's fingers and toes pruny from the extended soak.

The tired little shiver that quakes you when the air hits your damp skin is noticed immediately by Suguru, who quietly directs Satoru to empty the bucket of dirtied water down the tub before turning to you with towels straight from the tower warmer. He wraps one loosely around your hair and gently squeezes away the excess water.

His sweetened cooing of how cute you are when you're all sleepy and doted-on makes you duck your head into his touch if only to hide your face from the loving searchlights of his eyes. You allow Suguru to similarly wrap your body up in a second towel and you gleefully burrow into the fluffy comfort of it.

Satoru zips to your side in literal seconds with two more towels bunched under his arm, blue eyes alight and completely comfortable in his nudity. "My turn," he announces.

"Didn't you have plenty of turns in the bath?" Suguru amusedly points out in a lowered tone. "She's already dried off, anyways."

Satoru pokes his pretty pink lips out in a pout, sulky as a cat denied its dinner. "I want another."

"You always want another," you hum, eyes half-closed and about ready to conk out on the tile of all places. A plane could crash outside and you wouldn't even be fazed, your mind too up in the clouds and doped up on the princess treatment your boyfriends gave you to care.

“Well, I like taking care of you both,” Satoru admits with some sheepishness, scratching his shorn-short nape that you're sure is soon to be warmed pink as you and Suguru look at him with hearts for eyes. "Can't blame a guy for being in love, yeah?"

You really can't; not when you're just as stupidly infatuated with them both. Especially when, adorably, he surprises you both by turning to Suguru and toweling him off with great attention, making your dark-haired partner flush an even ruddier red than the hot water gave his body. For all of Satoru's impossible strength and impossible speed, his hands fuss with deliberate care as they work the plush fabric around Suguru's waist, folding one edge neatly over the other before tucking it securely against his hip. Then Satoru guides a stray bang that fell loose from his bun behind his ear, fingers lingering sweetly.

Suguru blinks once, twice, as though momentarily caught off guard by the simple gesture. "... Thank you, Satoruuu,” he purrs warmly.

The words are accompanied by a smile so soft it melts years off of Suguru's face, leaving behind only the boy who'd once looked at you and Satoru with that same impossible tenderness after late-night konbini store runs and shared umbrellas beneath summer rain as you all ran back to campus after shared misions— long, long before that accursed village sent him into a year-long spiral. Affection settles visibly into every elegant line of him, warming his browned eyes until they resemble polished amber.

Color rushes into Satoru's ears as he's blasted with the full superlunary rays of Suguru's love, almost shying away from his exuberant beam. "Don't mention it," he mutters, already smiling despite himself as he finally slings his own towel around his hips.

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, sleepy and airy, and both pairs of eyes snap toward you with such immediate fondness. Your heart gives such a smitten start that it damn near ping-pongs off your ribs.

And then you open your unfiltered mouth, "You're both so cute. You two act like you guys haven't explored each other's holes for literal years."

Their expressions slacken into ones of pained amusement immediately. "Sweets, I love you so so sooo bad, but do you ever think before you reduce years of heartfelt intimacy to digging out each other's asses?" Satoru snorts.

"Please don't say it like that," Suguru bemoans, propping one hand on his towel-wrapped hip while the other drives a thumb into his creased forehead. Even so, he's openly snickering, even moreso when he slaps Satoru's chest. "Are you under the impression that you're any better?"

Satoru touches his heart with theatrical offense. "I've never said anything outrageous as her."

"You literally just did?" Suguru points out, exasperatedly tickled.

You attempt to muster a joke to chip in with, but a yawn stretches your jaw instead, eyes watering as exhaustion overtakes any dignity you might have had left.

"Awww," Satoru breathes out an impossibly stricken coo. "She's gonna fall asleep standing up like a horse."

"I was thinking the same thing," Suguru murmurs, tilting his head at you.

"I am awake and alert and alive," you mumble automatically.

Clearly, neither of them believes you for even half a second. Suguru chuckles beneath his breath before stepping forward, large hand finding the small of your back through the towel. "Looks like the delirium's getting to you, huh, angel? You've had a long day."

Satoru immediately appears at your other side. "For sure. Let's go get dressed and go to bed." Without ceremony, he bends his knees and scoops you into his arms bridal-style as though you weigh nothing at all. You let out the weakest little noise of surprise imaginable before instinctively curling against his warm chest, your cheek finding the familiar place beneath his collarbone.

"I c-can…" Your own yawn slashes the sentence in half, making Satoru throw his head back laughing as he turns towards the bathroom's entrance, "… walk."

"Oh, sweetheart," Suguru rumbles out a laugh.

"I can,” you grumble.

"You just lost consciousness mid-sentence."

"Mmmf," you say intelligently.

Suguru reaches over to straighten the towel atop your head one final time, brushing his knuckles fondly across your temple. "So spoiled," he whispers.

You hum contentedly, already halfway to sleep. "Your fault."

"Our fault," Satoru corrects, carrying you toward the door with Suguru walking beside him, shoulder brushing his every few steps. Then, as an aside to Suguru, "To be fair, we kinda made her expect this."

"I think I deserve princess treatment everyday," you exhaustedly pipe up, words dragging as you gradually drift off.

Satoru and Suguru exchange looks over your lolling head. So cute.

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye @dogwhiskey @sunnydayqq @yoshinorecommends @spoooooork @satoruxmo @yomama2089 @nymeriassecretgarden @nina-from-317 @uzumakioden @loudshortbookworm @elijahgetsbeachess @jadelen @dookieslayer @naammiii @luxylucylou @user3779135 @xxdiaqiaoxx @angellvk @sahlestial @cowboyvsshop @madether @iheartanzai @cryptedlullaby

[ramonathinks]

ꫂ❁ surrender :𝑔𝑜𝒿𝑜 x reader

summary — your fuckbuddy kinda wants a little bit more than what’s arranged

tags: MDNI (18+), dirty talk, pet names, sex (p in v), making out, creampie, a bit of an abrupt ending

note: okay honestly when i first started writing this had a bit more plot but 🫩 i just dropped it. & it’s very ehhhh honestly imo but finally posted something 🙂‍↕️

Your pussy is drooling, dripping on his sheets like a faucet and you can’t help but to be embarrassed and Satoru can’t help but to be amazed, not only were you wet but the amount of pearly white cream that was spilling out of you was truly a blessing. “God, fuck… how are you this damn wet? You get this wet for all your friends?” He does a cruel chuckle before he finishes his sentence, “If you do, then who? I want to know.”

You can’t speak, your lip between your teeth. “J-just you. Swear.” The words finally leave your lips, the featherlight feeling of fingers touching your clit that makes your breathing uneven. Huffing and puffing before he presses down and rubs your aching swollen clit. “Ah, thank you.” Your eyes watery, you sniffle.

Condescendingly he says, “Mhm, I know, sweet girl. I know you appreciate it when I touch right there.” You grip his arm, digging your nails into his arm. “Why’re you so wet? Who’s got you like this? Hm?”

The way he talks alone is enough to get you off, honestly. Some of the things he says, the tone, the way he looks when he says it, drives you crazy. He swirls his fingers on the bud before he slaps your pussy – which makes you jolt. “Y-you do, only you, Satoru.” He hears you say his name and he stops to smile at you and you gulp.

“If you’re my girlfriend, you could get this treatment all the time, ya know?” Your eyes squeezed shut and moans leaving your lips when he slides his fingers in and outside of you. Your hips rocking against his fingers, uncontrollably. Feeling a slight curve at the same time as he grazes your clit, back arches, trying to catch more of his touch — to no avid. You sigh loudly before you speak.

“We…we can’t, okay?” Your eyes are rolling back yet you’re standing your ground. This was never supposed to be something serious, just casual, he assured you he wouldn’t catch feelings and here you both are. “We’re fri–friends, been friends too long.” You hear him unbuttoning his jeans and you attempt to escape, you knew no matter what … you wanted it, so what was the purpose of running?

You look down at the truffle of white hair that covers the base erected dick and you lay back completely. Staring at the pearly white pre-cum already leaking from him, you unconsciously lick your lips.

“Do you really think we can be just friends like this?” Tapping his heavy dick on your clit, you flinch. “I mean does this look like just friends to you? You want to be friends? You want to keep being friends, hm?” Now he’s just being mean, rubbing himself through your folds, slipping the tip in just enough that you grip the sheets before he takes it back out, laughing at your whines.

“Say it…” Bending down, he presses kisses up and down your neck, your back arching. “Say you’ll be my girlfriend, say that we aren’t just friends.” Gojo’s voice is cruel yet you can tell he’s barely holding himself together.

You open your mouth, ready to say no again, until he thrusts himself forward. “You’re so big.” No matter how many times you say it to him, he still does a snort. He doesn’t move for a while, letting you grow comfortable, rubbing at your hair.

“Look how well you’re taking me… fuck, you’re so pretty, c’mon look at how pretty you are.” He’s holding your chin, making sure you look directly into his eyes. “Such a pretty girl. My girl is so pretty, isn’t she?” You’re just nodding to everything he says, tears in your eyes — the pleasure overwhelming you.

“Do you feel that? You feel me…right here?” He presses down a bit, making you clamp down on his cock. Groaning, he takes your hand and puts it where his was, just so you can feel just how deep he is inside of you.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet. Since you’re being stubborn, he slips out, hissing while he does so and he just stares at you. You were almost there and he just…took that from you. “What?” You ask, reaching to touch yourself, you needed to finish.

He reaches out to you and takes your hands into his own, “Tell me how badly you want it.. you know I’ll give you everything you want.”

“Toru…” you make your voice whiny and soft, wanting him badly to fill you back up. “I want it…I want you, please.”

“Damn it,” His cock is throbbing and standing upright, glossy due to the mixture of you both. He’s back on top of you. A loud gasp leaving your mouth the second he’s inside, you wrap your legs around his waist and he lies on your chest, kissing the space between your breasts.

Smiling to yourself at his affection actions, lifting his head, you kiss his ear and your lips begin sliding down to his jaw before you’re licking down his neck. “Feels good?” He’s quick to nod his head, pushing himself closer to you for more.

He’s next thrusts are slow, achingly slow and you can feel every inch of him. The embarrassing wetness sounds mixed with the bed squeaking, you put your hands over your face.

“Don’t hide from me.” He lifts up one of your legs and does a particularly deep push inside, your pussy clenching against him…practically begging him to stay, begging him to stay inside no matter what. “Feels so good…”

“Y-yeahhh, fuck…Keep fucking me.” Is all he needs to hear before he’s slamming inside, wetness spills on the sheet with every thrust, he wets his hand with spit and reaches down to spread your lips. More soft touches against your clit that makes you spasm. “I… I’m going to cum!” Trying to move his hand from your pussy, he pinched your clit before you can take his hands from your body.

His thrust gets sloppier and he’s sweating all over, you know he’s close because for once his eyes are squeezed shut for more than two minutes. Looking at his face makes you want to punish him, always so cocky. You flex your walls muscle and he falls over, putting his entire weight on you. For some reason you want him to crack, “Cum inside of me.”

You know his eyes are sparkling and it makes you smirk, kissing his neck again and tugging his hair. His thrusting is wilder and now has a purpose, no time for words, just to breed. You’re sneaky, saying those four magic words that always get him going.

Both of your breathing heavy, you put your tongue deep in his mouth; licking and sucking on his. Both of you so close and catching after that high, your nails digging deeply in his back and you were sure you’ll be leaving some pretty scars to remind him of this.

One last thrust up and he’s spilling inside of you at the same time that your eyes roll in the back of your head at the deep sensation of being filled. “Fuckkk.” The orgasm snapping out of you in an instant, both bodies trembling with the after effects. 

He doesn’t slip out of you, no longer hard but still satisfied with staying inside. He’s looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Let me show you that I’m worth your time.” He kisses every finger tip. “Let me be your boyfriend, pretty girl.” Then kisses your palm, placing your hand on his cheek.

You shiver, your eyes bright as you stared at him. He glances at your lips, tracing his thumb across the bottom one before he kisses you again, eager and desperately this time. You kiss back with the same intensity, eyelids fluttering closed.

“You really make it hard for me,” He says, breaking the kiss to caress your face softly. “You make it hard for me to not want to be with you, so let me be yours.”

There’s no reason to deny him this, your heart beating so fast, it wasn’t like you didn’t want it…just scared. Breakups were scary, especially if you were friends first. “Okay.” You kiss him again — his cheeks and then his lips. It was time for you to stop avoiding this and being so terrified when you truly wanted this.

“So you’ll be my girlfriend?” He asks, you never heard him so nervous, especially after the way he talked to you mere seconds ago. The juxtaposition of it made you want to both kiss him silly and choke him just a bit, instead you giggled.

A smile comes easy on you lips as you speak, “Yes, I will.” You give him a quick peck. “You better be the best boyfriend ever then.”

He grins so hard that you’re sure his cheeks hurt. “You won’t regret it.” Taking the opportunity to do what you wanted to do and kisses you until he can’t anymore.

[lavaditto]

Of course you do end up healing, but you’re never the same again.

[bratzdollsasha]

Reblog if you’re black tumblr

and yes you have to be black, this isn’t an all access typa club

[bratzdollsasha]

Reblog if you’re black tumblr

and yes you have to be black, this isn’t an all access typa club

[snowbairdd]

LUPITA NYONG'O getting ready for "The Odyssey" photocall in Paris (July 07, 2026)

[neverbelongedtoangels]

Queer Loss | The Subway by Chappell Roan

[thalwri]

IN HEAT

synopsis: valko is in deep heat with the supermoon occurring, and he wants a solution that requires restraints, a collar, and you.

warnings: valko is in heat, sub!valko, good boy!valko, collar use, bondage, riding, overstimulation, biting, licking, scent marking, edging, knots, rutting, monsterfucking.

wc: 2,3k

a/n: i love him already, he's such a cutie. he deserves endless cuddles, BE NICE TO HIM! i want to devour him. I NEED HIM TO EAT ME OU– enjoy a pre-release celebration of our handsome wolf, valko!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

He must be in heat. that’s the only way Valko can describe this feeling. The moon has been full for less than an hour, and he’s already twitching. Usually he can handle himself. But that’s not gonna work out well for him if all he can think about is you.

Your scent is delicious, beyond the scented lotions and perfume, he’s talking about your natural aroma, amplified by sweat and other smells your body emits. It draws him in. He can’t help but sniff the air every time you walk past him. His cock won’t stop twitching in his pants, tenting at the sight of you catching his gaze.

Valko wants to bite you. Valko wants to slather you with his saliva until you smell like him. He wants to rut his cock so deep inside you, cuddle you so close and keep you so warm with his hot body that you just have to call him a good boy.

“…ko,” He must be imagining you saying his name so nice and breathless.

“…alko.” There it is again, louder, your nails could drag down his back until he bleeds and he’d thank you.

“Valko!” He blinks, the mirage of a heated embrace disappearing from his perception to be replaced by your fingers snapping very close to his face. Such pretty fingers, he wants to lick—

“Yeah?” His voice is gruff and hoarse, almost like he’s keeping a whimper tight in his throat. His leg bounces as fast as his heart pounds his chest. You’re so pretty, with your pretty parted lips, and how your saliva keeps it just wet enough to shine in the warm lamp light. So plump for him to kiss and bite—

“As I was saying,” You pull your hand away, not hearing the small whine that leaves him from the lack of contact. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable for the next few hours. You said you can get agitated when there’s full moons, right?”

“Mmh.” Better a grunt than a moan. You brush it off assuming the effects of the celestial event are starting to mess with him internally.

Of course, you’re well aware that he’s got an extra pair of fluffy scratchable ears on the top of his head, an even fluffier tail protruding from the base of his spine, and sharper canines. You’re not ignorant. 

What you don’t know is that he’s much more prone to getting heated in these hours. Especially in the presence of someone who his body, mind, and soul are attuned to completely. It’s you. You're that someone.

But he has to behave for your sake. He can’t be bad, he can’t be too rash and aggressive or he might scare you off. You might not like it. But he wants you so damn bad, he can’t even hide it anymore. 

You’re rattling about restraints, something to tie him to incase he goes berserk.

Restraints. Belts. Muzzle. Chair. Tie him to a chair. He wants you to tie him to a chair.

He wants you to restrain him. He wants you to sit on his lap and feel how hard his cock is for you, feel it throb just below your cunt, grind his hips up to you still so retrained and held back that he has to beg you to ride him. He might as well ask for it. 

“…unless that’s too extreme.” You mutter, expecting a response. Nothing. Did he zone out again? What’s going on with Valko to be so distracted? He wasn’t like this last month. “Look, I know the full moon can be a messy time for you, and now that it’s a supermoon it could be worse, but I’d prefer you to actually respond— oh.”

Valko is drooling. Valko’s eyes are glazed over. Valko is blushing beyond relief. And Valko is sporting a rock hard boner.

The silence that stretches between you would have been uncomfortable, it should have been. But you seem to enjoy the rough pants that escape his lips, how his hands are balled into fists to keep himself at bay. How the veins on his neck are far more prominent now. 

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, hoping you won’t say anything foolish. 

“Don’t laugh.” Valko grits, his fluffy ears drooping a little. 

“I wasn’t going to.” You say, trying to ignore the fact that your lips are twitching into a smile.

You glance down from his agitated golden eyes to his neck, to his large muscular chest covered by the black tank you always find so attractive on him, to the taper of his waist, to the pulsing print of his cock bulging against his pants.

Now that you think of it, you two haven’t shared the bed recently. You’ve both been so busy with work that neither of you have had time for each other. And you’ve been very wound up these last few days.

“I think we should figure out what restraints will be good for you.” A purr follows your words as you rest your hands on his chest. Muscular, warm, huge chest that you love to sleep on. You’re making this much, much worse and you know it. You can hear it in the groan that rumbles in his chest. 

“Oh, is it getting worse?” You play an aloof demeanour, reaching to caress the soft ears on his head, making sure to rub on that sensitive spot where his hair is its softest. A soft moan escapes Valko’s lips as his golden eyes flutter closed.

“Please…”

“What do you need me to do, my love?” Your lips ghost the shell of his fleshy ear, tongue peeking out to trace the shell. He shudders, head lowering to give you more access, hips rocking towards you so you can feel just what you need to do. 

You don’t want that, though. He has to say it.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

A pained moan rushes right into your ear as he drops a part of his weight on you. Valko doesn’t want to say it but he also wants to say it. It doesn’t make sense. This heated state is driving him insane, and you’re giving him such a clear path to relief. But what he wants is different from what you usually do… will you agree?

With a shaky breath, Valko nuzzles the side of your neck, mustering the will to confess his desire. “You have to tell me no if you can’t do it.”

“I will.” You reassure him, stroking his soft hair. His arms wrap tight around you, grounding himself in your presence as the words unknot themselves to flow out.

“If you’re grossed out—“

“I won’t be grossed out, Val.” You softly say, rubbing circles into his lower back. “Nothing about you grosses me out. I trust you, so you need to trust that I’ll handle whatever you need and that I’ll tell you if I can’t. Outside of cannibalism, I'm not doing that.”

That makes him chuckle. “You’ll tell me the second you’re uncomfortable?”

“The millisecond.”

His next request comes out more sheepishly. “You’ll tell me I’m doing good?”

“I’ll put a poet to shame.”

“Pull my hair?”

“Put a collar on you too if you’re feeling feisty.”

A sigh of relief escapes Valko’s lips. Oh, he loves you. Finally, he pulls his face away from your neck to level your gaze with fresh determination on his face. “I want you to tie me to the chair, and ride the shit outta me.”

Ask and ye shall receive, as you hear them say.

It was easy to put Valko on a chair especially when he's drunk on your kisses, hungrily biting marks into your bare chest and stomach, gripping your hips so tight you’d think he’s terrified that you’ll run. It was easier to get soaked just from watching him strip for you— that, and having his fingers curl so good inside your cunt as he slurped and lapped at your clit.

The only ‘difficult’ part was restraining him to the chair, legs, arms, and torso roped tight, and that’s just because he’s antsy whenever the full moon happens. 

But something about this supermoon has got him more riled up than usual. Why, you ask?

You’ve been bouncing on the man’s cock for two hours. 

You’re not complaining, you love every second of this. Your walls are fluttering around him as he slides in and out of you so easily, caught by you keeping his fat tip inside leaking all that sticky, hot precum before you drop into his lap again and again and again. 

“Val— ooh, fuck!” Your praise has otherwise become mush, slurred moans of his name and whatever adulation could come to mind. Valko doesn’t mind since he isn't doing any better. If anything, he’s lost the need to think.

“S-So good,” His throat is torn from how loud he’s been, his hips jutting into you even with his thick, corded thighs roped down to the chair. His tail is slapping the floor, his fluffy ears are twitching. He can barely move, limbs strapped down and a collar wrapped around his neck at his own request. And he loves it.

He wants to cum so bad. But then he’d end up swelling so much that he’d be stuck for hours, just grinding and grinding and plugging his seed inside instead of feeling you slap down on him with each rise and fall of your full hips. He wouldn’t have your soft breasts bouncing in his face, or feel your hands scratch his undercut and pull his hair, or hear the hiccups in your voice or the ragged moans in his own.

Why make this pleasure so short-lived when he can prolong it? 

His cock is leaking like a faucet, keeping him smooth and wet for you to use him as you please, pulsing with the desire to just release. His sacks are drawn up tight, literally clenching with enough cum to repopulate a country, and yet he still won’t give in.

Valko drags his tongue up your jaw all the way to your cheekbone. “ ‘m I fuckin’ you good?”

“Hah— mhm. Such a good boy.” You ramble into his lips as you kiss him, slipping your tongue inside to taste him as if he isn’t all that you can sense. “So big and thick and hot… so— Valko— so full ‘f you, want you deeper, you’re so good!”

You’re on orgasm number five by now, gripping onto Valko’s strong shoulders for dear life, back arched, tugging his hair like you want to rip his red locks off. It’s the supermoon, you tell yourself, it must be shooting his stamina through the roof.

It fucking has to be if he’s been rutting into you like a bullet train without cumming even once. His girth twitches with every rock of your plush hips, it leaks and weeps inside you every time you squeeze him hard enough to cut off his blood flow. It has to hurt, prolonging his climax for this long.

Valko likes it that way. He likes the hurt. He likes the way his body just responds to you so well, like you’re made for each other. You have to be.

Your knees are starting to ache. Your thighs are burning from the constant bouncing up and down his thick length but the feeling of him dragging through your walls with each vein pressing against your walls is too good. The overwhelming bump of his cockhead kissing your cervix may just tip you over the edge again. The fucking curve of his cock and the angle just lets him reach the sensitive nerves of your g-spot so good every damn time!

You love these fucking supermoons.

“Valko,” You hum, licking his lips then his chin and jaw, your breath heavy as you maintain your pace. Just a few more and you’ll be in pure bliss. But you need him there with you. “I’m close. I’m so close. Hnn, need you— cum with me.”

“You— oh, you sure?” He whimpers, nuzzling you as you lick the tears off his cheeks. “I’ll—“

“Knot me, mhm.” You nod, rubbing your nose into his cheek, inhaling his scent. This man’s frenzied behaviour has been rubbing off on you too much, not that there’s reason to complain. “You’re gonna swell up so fuckin’ thick, yeah?”

He nods. “Gonna plug all that cum in me, keep it warm inside while you grind ’n rut into me?”

“Yeah,” He affirms, his arms pulling against the restraints. Is this what you want? You want him to bond with you to that much of an intimate extent? You must truly love him. “ ’m gonna stay in you the whole night, snug inside. But I like when you ride me.” You can feel him pouting as he pecks your skin. So cute.

“Then you’ll be a good boy, right?” You coo, your hands cupping his face as you press your thumbs on his lower lip. “Cum with me, and stay inside all night.” You fight every urge to give in to the pleasure when he bites your fingers.

You suck his upper lip, letting your moans vibrate into his. “Can you do that for me?”

Valko’s a simple man. You ask for something and he’ll give it to you with a smile. Like he is now, canines bared, tongue lapping at your fingers before he attacks your lips with a bruising, hot kiss. He pulls away just for a second to mutter against your mouth, “I love you.”

“I know, baby.” You huff, smiling into the kiss as you scratch his fluffy ears. Valko’s hips rut up faster and you can feel his cock swell at the base, almost ready to be plugged into you. Oh, he is so going to eat his cum out of you once he’s soft. “Now be good and cum with me.”