Lail @lael1yn - Tumblr Blog

do your job! ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝜗𝜚 you’re keigo’s physician, coming over to check on him while he’s in rut

• keigo takami x f!reader

cw ~ rutting!hawks, avian specialist!physician!bird nerd!reader, reader wears glasses (stereotypical nerd? i wear glasses so it’s okay), smut;; handjob, painful erection, ballplay?, feral talk from kei, excessive precum + keigo cums a lot, facial ?, reader gets almost intoxicated off pheromones, so i guess mild dubcon, most likely inaccurate things ab wing anatomy though that parts not focused on.. (am i getting better at this)

wc 4.4k (i genuinely don’t know how that happened)

You breathed deeply before grabbing the keys and unlocking the door—rushing yourself in and swiftly closing it behind you.

“Takami?” you called out. You automatically made the mistake of breathing in too quickly, getting hit hard by the strong musky air that filled this entire house.

The warmth was what bothered you, but you were familiar with this scent. Not with how especially potent it was today—but it wasn’t new. Though you’d been warned about this years ago, and told to get a mask to protect yourself from the damn near drugs this man produced. You’ve been fine, though. How bad could things get? You’d get a little dizzy after too long, but you could deal.

You walked toward the coffee table, putting down your bag and looked over to the hallway to see your giant, shirtless patient.

“Ah. Trying to scare me?” You grinned at him as he stared at you blankly, before taking heavy steps to sit on the couch.

“Not even gonna smile for me?” You fake pouted. “Is it that bad?”

He looked at you, eyes piercing through yours, before sighing. “Y’don’t even know.” he rasped.

“Actually, I do, very much. And why are all the windows shut? You know I told you the fresh air is good.”

“The city smells like shit.”

“If any normal civilian walked in here, they’d tell you this house smells like shit.”

“Smells like me.” he huffed the correction.

“It smells like sex.” You giggled, slipping off your white jacket and walking over to hang it. “Come on. Let me open one window. You know this isn’t very good for me either.”

“…You’re bothered?” he muttered, lifting his head.

“Oh, no. It just makes me sort of drowsy. Y’know, your pheromones are meant to be attracting another… half-human… half-bird… partner. I’m just me. You’re suffocating, almost.”

He looked at you for a long while, before sending a large feather to open a window behind him. You scowled at his wings as they spread, the state of them a horrible sight. “You’re a mess,” you groaned, quickly walking up to him and taking a closer look. “Ugh. My babies...”

You saw his head flick in your direction, most likely glaring.

“Don’t look at me like that.” you murmured. “Yeah. I’ll be here for a while. You’re wrecked.” You turned back to the table, searching through your bag and grabbing the thermometer and flashlight.

You put the thermometer in his mouth and grabbed his face as you shined the light in his dark eyes. “Pupils heavily dilated…” you looked down at the thermometer. 41°C. Which would take a human to the emergency room, but it’s around average for him during a rut. Still, very hot. You could see the glow on his skin from how he’d been sweating.

You took the tools back, taking out your notebook to write the information down, leaving it open on the table. “Can you stand up? Stretch them out for me?” you asked sweetly, your hands folded at your front.

He gave you another silent stare before he got up. He seemed to have grown about three inches taller again. He groaned, before obeying. His wings, as usual—despite being a mess, were still beautiful. Large enough to fill this whole living room, if he stretched properly. But he’s tense—he’s sensitive.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, getting closer and looking at the feathers closest to his back from the front.

“Aches.” he said.

“Yeah, cause you love cramping them to your back all the damn time,” you murmured, receiving a mean glare from him as a response. You looked at his bare chest, getting closer as you saw how defined his muscles had become. His entire body shifted during this time of year, trying to give him all the strength he’d need to bury himself in someone and breed them, of course, without a single chance for them not to be full of his seed.

That’s… vulgar, but unavoidably true. You’ve dealt with him like this for so long that nothing is embarrassing, or shocking. You really take everything scientifically now, knowing you’re here to care for him, and track his behaviors. Nothing more.

So, of course, as you told him to breathe deeply while you listened to his heartbeat, you couldn’t help looking down at the huge print in his sweatpants. You could see the entire outline of his cock, especially his swollen tip—that you were actually shocked to see wasn’t leaking as it usually would be. You noticed his growth down there, too. Just a bit longer, a lot thicker.

Again, some things you can’t ignore, you’ve grown to see as normal. That’s just something else to write down.

“Your heartbeat is… uneven. Irregular,” you mumbled, looking up at him expecting an answer. His heartbeat usually keeps a quickened, but constant pace when he’s like this.

He shook his head, putting it down toward you but keeping his eyes closed. “You…” he breathed.

“Me?”

“…Just… smell good..” he finished, followed by another heavy breath and a twitch from his wings.

You raised your brows, chuckling as you put the stethoscope away. “Impressive, that you can smell anything through your aroma in here.”

He lazily hummed in response, eyes opening quickly as he suddenly felt your hand on his chest.

“Sit down, and turn a little so I can see your back.” you said, turning and grabbing a small bottle of oil. He did so in silence.

You sat next to him, or… behind him, sort of—looking over his wings. Like his chest, his back muscles had gotten more defined as it had to adjust to the new weight of his wings.

“Have you been eating well?” you asked as you popped the bottle open.

He simply grunts in response as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Come on, what does that mean?” you groaned. Rut must be especially bad this time. “Have you eaten today?”

“No.”

“Takami.” you paused, as if he could see the expression on your face. “You have to eat after this. You’re so frustrating—your body has gained… like, fifteen pounds of pure muscle and you’re not bothering to eat? Then you get all groggy.” He stayed silent as you ranted to him about his own health.

You huffed before pouring a generous amount of oil into your hand, and balancing the bottle on your thigh, as you reached for the base of his wings. Old feathers were tangled between the growth of his new ones, his pin feathers especially matted back here.

As soon as the moisture touched him, he flinched—posture fixing from the cool sensation. He’d relax though, as you slowly worked through his feathers.

Shlick. The familiar sound filled the room as you massaged the oil into his rough coverts. You hummed, this process being so familiar it was comforting at this point.

As you’d reach his primaries on his right wing, he’d occasionally grunt or hum. Which was nice to hear, him getting more comfortable. Keigo deals with a lot when he’s like this, and of course this isn’t something that heals him—but it is a relief. Quite literally a weight lifted off his shoulders, which feels good to do for him.

You collected the old feathers you plucked out, placing them on the coffee table to later put away for inspection. You took the oil again, coating your hands and reaching the end of his left wing. Shlick as you firmly dragged the serum down a long feather. Inspecting it closer, you caught a crumbled old feather that was stuck just underneath. You let him go, reaching for the tweezers again.

Though, you realized that as you stopped touching his wings… that sound didn’t stop.

Shlick… Shlick… Shlick.

Each interval taking a few seconds before it came back again, just as loud—even wetter as it continued.

You almost thought you were going insane, that your hands were still moving on him or something—you literally looked at your arms to make sure—then looked down to see the muscle in Keigo’s shoulder blade moving. It was slight at first, and then got more apparent, along with his elbow slightly trembling as well.

You then remembered the way he was grunting and breathing earlier—you thought it was from the massage. You looked over his wings, and saw him enjoying a…different massage.

The waistband of his pants stretched down a bit, and his hand wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock—as he stroked himself with a hard grip. Every stroke up had a bead of pre-cum forming at his tip, and dripping down with his hand. His dick almost had a red tint to it with how swollen he was. It looked like it hurt.

“T…Takami…” you spoke softly after sitting back.

He didn’t stop, or slow down—you didn’t even catch a twitch in his feathers.

You weren’t… uncomfortable. Not really, honestly the main thing going through your mind now was the fact that you underestimated how he was doing today.

You have seen his cock before. A few times, the ache would get bad for him and you’d have to check and make sure it was just his hyper-arousal rather than something concerning. You’ve also caught him pleasuring himself before. The first time, it was enough to shake your professional persona, but it was easy to get over.

Keigo doesn’t get anything to really… deal with himself. He feels it’s a little odd to have women coming to deal with him when he’s like this—not only is it an weird feeling for the feral side of his mind, fucking someone who wasn’t his mate—but it just… wouldn’t… work.

Keigo’s uncontrollable during this time. He needs a partner. A mate. Someone he can call his woman, outside of his rut and as it happens. Someone he can have those long conversations with about how he’s going to need the help. How he’s going to need to fuck, and breed, and keep doing it until he the burning under his skin fades away—which will take longer than anyone expects.

That conversation about how it’ll be exhausting, how he could scare them—how he could hurt them—all of that.

You got that conversation too before you started working as his physician, and sure it… concerned you a little, but then after meeting him any worry about how he’d be during that time faded. You weren’t even nervous when you walked in during his first rut with you—also the first day where he really didn’t seem like himself—his body completely changed, bigger and tougher and really looking like a predator.

It’s because that bird-brained half of him had gotten comfortable with you. That side of him assigned you as someone who cares for him, makes him feel better, makes him fly better. You’re sweet and you’re understanding and you take your time with him. So, he could hardly get scary with you. He knew better, both sides of him.

You wouldn’t know it, maybe not even he did, but some part of him put that ‘mate’ title onto you.

With how you treated him so well, and the fact that you were the only person he saw during rut—he almost had no other choice. His mind needed something to cling to, and that became you.

Again, unbeknownst to you, you’d also make his ruts worse. He was seeing his mate almost every day and he couldn’t take her? Claim her? It was torture, just as it is now.

So, you’re here, sitting behind him as he’s desperately touching himself. What makes it different this time is that he’s doing it now, while you’re here. He’s doing this, and he knows you’re here, and he knows you know and he’s not stopping.

As mentioned before, you’ve seen him get boners while you worked. You’ve heard him say some feral lewd things to you and kept it pushing. You’ve walked in his home, hearing him loudly deal with himself in another room—but all those times there felt like there was a sort of barrier that didn’t make things weird.

There’s literally no barrier here. You hardly even knew what to say—what to do. Walk out? Well, that would make him instinctively try to chase you.

“Takami…” you spoke a little louder as you got up slowly. He still didn’t react. As you moved the bottle of oil onto the coffee table though, his wings twitched as he moved and sat back on the couch, now completely exposed to you and seemingly not caring as he kept stroking himself.

Now, you couldn’t look away from his cock as it faced you. Swollen wouldn’t cut it. He was completely engorged, a vein that went down from his tip pulsing with each strong pump. Strong wouldn’t cut it either, and your eyes widened as you saw the muscles in his arm deepen every time he went back down—just choking the thick base of his dick. You breathed deeply before you spoke again.

“K… Keigo…” you murmured, his name almost unfamiliar on your tongue. “I… I’m gonna be honest, I don’t… I—I feel like…” the words wouldn’t come to you. Every option of a sentence felt wrong.

He actually moaned then, and you watched his muscles tensed as he gripped himself impossibly harder, almost squeezing the precum out of him as it trickled down his inches.

“Hurts,” he grumbled, opening his eyes to look at you for a second before throwing his head back onto the couch. “Fucking hurts.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I know…”

The room went silent and felt hot, you started to wonder if his pheromones were getting to you now. All you could hear was both of your heavy breaths along with him stroking the sloppy mess of his shaft. His eyes were closed, his brows furrowed, every now and then gritting his teeth.

You swallowed, trying to do what you came to do. You’re meant to care for him.

“I… uhm, I have some suppressants here, Keigo, if it’s this bad for you. It could help with the… swelling—”

“No,” he rasped. “No drugs.”

“It’ll help you,” you argued, taking a small step toward him. “You’re… holding yourself too hard, you can hurt yourself like that, I’ll get—”

“Won’t work.” he cut you off, gripping his dick again as if just to concern you more. As he dragged his hand down to the base, he lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at you. “Need to breed.”

“…I know you do. You’re in pain. I can help it, I can make you feel better,” you insisted, feeling bad for sort of… lying to him. You knew those suppressants stopped working for him years ago. When he was a teen, they used to completely block out ruts. Eventually, they just turned into numbing pills for him, which kept the burning and the animalistic thoughts, and just made it impossible for him to get any relief. They also put him to sleep, which… sure, that’s something, until he wakes up.

He still didn’t respond to you. His hips twitched into his hands, and he started to groan more—and louder.

But then, he slowed down a bit, lazily lifting his head and staring at you. His gaze was intimidating, intentionally like he wanted to scare you. Well, he didn’t—as you were used to this—but he was trying.

“Make… make me feel better?” he asked roughly, repeating your words to him.

“Yes,” you said softly, thinking you were getting to him. “I’m here to do that, Takami. You can trust me.”

He seemed to try to keep his eyes on you, but they rolled back as he stroked himself again. Another moment of silence as he tended to his ache, before his gaze snapped back to yours.

“Then… do it,” he breathed. “Come. Touch me. Help me.” his voice cracked near the end, and you heard a small whine as his face contorted while his tip kept self lubricating.

You completely froze, breath hitching. Not knowing what to do at all. You did literally just say you would help him. And the way he’s doing it to himself is damn near scary.

But… What? A handjob?

You watched him as you couldn’t speak. Your patient, completely at the mercy of his biology. Your patient who got like this so many times around you, completely feral and desperate, and never crossing a line—and now he’s whining for it.

What line would this truly cross, though? You take care of him. You assist him with his issues that come with being half bird, and… this technically counts as one of them. You’re the only person in the world who sees him when he’s like this—who helps him.

You weren’t going to just let him suffer with this, not when he directly asked you.

You took a slow breath, adjusting your glasses with a steady hand. “…Okay..” you spoke softly.

You took a few steps, standing between his legs before kneeling down in front of him. Your hands were still greasy from the oil, but it wasn’t like it would do him any bad. He’s also already soaked in his own slick.

One of your hands finally wrapped around his cock, stretching your fingers wider than you expected. It was almost like he didn’t even feel your hands—he only reacted when he saw you touching him—his wings flinching closer to his back before he had to force them to relax again. His eyes were locked on yours.

He hesitated, before letting himself go and resting his hands on his thighs. You took your other hand, stacking it above the other.

“Grip… grip it tighter,” he rasped. You listened, looking up at him for approval but then he shut his eyes hard. “Tighter than that.”

He’d tell you this about two more times until you huffed against his length. “I’m.. going to hurt you...” you mumbled.

He opened his eyes, brows furrowing in frustration as he put his hand over yours and showed you exactly how he needed you to hold him. Just as you said, his hand hurt against yours and you couldn’t imagine that pressure on him feeling good—but, nonetheless…You held him that same way, getting a deep groan in response as his legs spread wider.

Your hands hesitated before they started moving up and down his length. Both following each other, before you started twisting them around him rhythmically.

He moaned, hips bucking into you and individual feathers twitching off his wings.

“Stop,” he suddenly grumbled, and you hovered before stopping. He sort of nodded his head as a signal for you to move, so you took your hands off of him.

A whine came from deep in his chest by the loss of contact. He grabs his waistband, tugging it down his legs, his lower half now bare. Your eyes automatically snapped toward his balls. Just as swollen as his cock, tightened up close and twitching as he grunted for you to continue.

You breathed, getting closer as your hands held him. You started stroking him, before his hand shot over both of yours again and crushed them under his grip. Again, completely unbelievable how this felt good to him, but you listened. You got a whimper in response, the muscles in his thighs shuddering.

You were sort of grateful by how empty your mind was right now. His pheromones were definitely doing something. Is this what the effect was supposed to be? Make someone’s mind blank, just willing to do whatever he needs them to? Fascinating.

Your eyes kept flicking toward the tight, swelling base of his length. It almost bothered you from your clinical view, how tight his balls were and the way they lightly pulsed with each stroke.

You didn’t want to speak, the words would have been awkward coming out of your mouth. Oh, can I touch your balls? You simply let your bottom hand drift every now and then, letting his pre just slightly get lower and lower to lubricate all of him, while you watched his reactions.

Then, you’d let your hand linger, your thumb rubbing against the skin between them before sliding back up. After a few more times, you fully moved your hand down, cupping them gently. They were hot and heavy, and you tried to stable your shaking fingers as you put just a little pressure on them.

“Ohhh, oh my god…” he moaned, his hips jerking up into you.

You almost smiled, so satisfied that he was feeling good. Your thumb and the pads of your fingers slowly kneaded into his throbbing sack. You found a rhythm, stroking him firmly and tending to his balls.

“Hurts… fucking hurts so b—aaad.” his words were slurred between whines, his hands gripping to the couch. You held him impossibly tighter, making him sob out a moan that had your hands hesitating against him. He sounded like he was in excruciating pain, honestly. “Keep… keep goin’… shit, hands feel s’fucking good…”

He placed his hand on top of yours again, this time thankfully not crushing your fingers under his. “Fuck… fuck, spit on me.”

“W—What?” you spoke quickly, hands stuttering against him again.

“Spit on it. Need your spit.” his gaze pierced into yours.

You frowned, looking away to think...

Well, actually…

If he needed it…

You lapped your tongue across the roof of your mouth, gathering spit and letting it dribble from your lips onto his tip.

“Oh my god, I need your cunt,” he whined.

“…Takami…” you muttered, your voice barely even coming out. You dragged your spit over his dick, watching him twitch as you did.

“Need to st—streetchh, mmmgh, stretch you out and… and use that cunt…”

“Not me,” you corrected quietly. “You don’t wanna do that to me.”

“I do, I fucking do—I need you,” he cried, now squirming under your touch. From the way his balls kept twitching in your palm, you could tell he was close. “Can’t… can’t cum if it’s not in your pussy. Wasting my seed in those fucking hands…”

You watched as his whole bottom half was literally tensing up from the way he was holding back his orgasm. He was very serious.

I mean, this goes back to the severe lack of relief he gets during his ruts. He jerks off when it gets bad, but that feral side of his mind very much hates wasting his sperm on anything but someone’s cunt.

“Waste?” you repeated quietly, making sure to keep that heavy pressure on his length, and your fingers massaging his balls. “Keigo… it’s… it’s not a waste.”

He could only groan deeply in response, the muscles in his thighs twitching. You knew the words he wanted to hear, and the words he needed to hear.

“You’re… using me right now,” you looked at him as you spoke, your glasses fogging with how you’d started panting (along with how you’ve been sweating for a while now.) “Using my hands. They’re… making you feel good… y-you’re… claiming them.” you gave him a firm squeeze at the base of his cock.

“Aaah, shit, making those hands all mine… gonna fucking paint them,” he whimpered. You knew those words would do him good. That’s exactly what he needs now. He wants to fill someone up, and claim them as his. Mark them—mark his territory.

“P—…Paint me then,” your wet hands sped up into a frantic pace over his length. “Paint my skin and cum for me.”

He couldn’t hold back for another second. His hips gave an uncontrollable, violent buck into your palms—his wings stretching out behind him, as his tip shot his cum everywhere. The second rope hit directly onto your glasses lens, you could almost hear the heavy splat against your face.

The strong scent hit you even harder than that, almost like honey right from the comb. A wave of bittersweet, animal musk instantly coated the back of your throat. It was like you could taste it on your tongue.

Oh, wait. That’s because you were.

Fuck, when it hit your glasses you gasped and opened your mouth in shock just as more splurted out of him again. A thick, extremely warm jet shot straight past your lips, hitting the roof of your mouth. With a gooey texture, and a deep pheromone sweetness that you could feel go straight to your brain. It was almost hard to swallow. Because of course you swallowed.

The whole scene was extremely sloppy, and messy. Your hands hovered over your glasses as you heard him moan and completely empty himself in front of you.

When it got quiet, you slipped your glasses off of your face, looking at him.

A mess, as expected. His own seed was splattered over his chest and the couch, and your hands, and your glasses—and just a sliver remained on your top lip. Without thinking, you licked it off. Then you met his eyes.

Low lidded, until he looked toward your glasses, and your nervous face. He groaned long, his hand suddenly sliding down his torso, shuddering—and you watched as his limp cock lifted back to its hardened state. The same as it was when he first started touching himself. Possibly harder, actually.

“Haah…” you let out a breath, surprised by how quickly that happened. You knew he could get boners back quickly, but… hardly even fifteen seconds had passed.

He simply looked in your eyes as you watched his flesh engorge, his veins fat and pulsing down the shaft again.

Your hand rested on your own chest, feeling your slowing heartbeat. Your lids were low, and now without the distraction of trying to make him finish, you realized just how out of it you were.

Realizing how hot this room was, the way you were covered in sweat. More importantly, realizing the aching pulse you felt between your legs.

It was intense, and you could only sit back and try to process what the fuck just happened. What was happening.

Your hand went over your mouth, trying to cover the way you were panting. You couldn’t control the whimper that came after that.

Keigo suddenly growled, making your eyes snap to him. He was taking slow, deep breaths and staring at you with big eyes.

“Mmmh… You smell so fucking sweet,” he grumbled. “Need to claim that wet cunt.”

Your thighs clenched together hard, the sudden friction only making it impossible to ignore the throbbing in your pussy. You were completely vulnerable to him now.

Well, you’re the one who decided to help him in the first place.

You’re the only one who can, so…

You should probably do your job.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. i’m sort of obsessed with this concept… might write more with it… anyway thankyou for reading! all interactions are so very much appreciated :)) also, happy happy pride month!! 🤍🪽

blueberrytrickster

Don’t Get Any Ideas (One-Shot; LADS)

NSFW, 18+, MDNI

Description: You’re ovulating and need Valko to fuck the ever living shit out of you. Multiple times. Yep, mhm.

WC: 4k

TITS. PECS. GIANT TITS. When the people (one sweetie pie anon ilysm) ask for more Valko, I PROVIDE MORE VALKO!!! 🫡🫶 (It’s summer and I fucking hate summer, LMAO. In my mindscape for this one, it’s fall/winter, mkay? He’d be the warmest good boy...)

HE’S BEEN CLEARED…ALL THEY HAVE TO DO IS...GIVE HIM THE F U C K BACK!!! AAWWWOOOOO!!!!! KEEP IT UP VALKYRIES!!!!!!!!

Cutesy, diabolically horny, then cutesy again. Enjoy! MWAH!

- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist) (Valko Masterlist 𑣲𓃦)

Cuddled up on the couch, you can’t stop pressing your face into the side of Valko’s warm, built chest. When relaxed, the large pad of muscle is like a firm, perfect pillow beckoning you for a well-deserved nap.

Although...it also beckons you to bite and lick him until he starts whimpering.

Despite humming happily to the feeling of you nuzzling against him, when pressing your nose into the side tissue of his muscle, a little too hard, he finally speaks up with a light laugh, “Pup…whatcha doin’?”

6x-x9

ಇ.word count: 5.5k ಇ.art by: @!narutoss.ramen on X

ಇ.pairing: Nerd!Satoru x Nerd!Reader

ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰non canon au ⋮⋮ crack! ⋮⋮ reader & satoru are heavily inexperienced ⋮⋮ Satoru being annoying otp ⋮⋮ bad sexting ⋮⋮ masturbation m & f ⋮⋮ reader humps a pillow ⋮⋮ oral. fem rec ⋮⋮ loss of virginity ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ multi-orgasms ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ cum eating ⋮⋮ kissing꒱

It had been a week. One whole week since the two of you had officially, undeniably, ridiculously become a couple. Your boyfriend. You still were not entirely sure how that word had ended up belonging to Satoru Gojo.

Sometimes you would be doing something completely ordinary. Brushing your teeth. Standing in line at the grocery store. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner. And your brain would suddenly go. Oh. Satoru is your boyfriend. Then you would have to stand there for a moment. Staring blankly at whatever was in front of you while your face slowly heated.

It was stupid. You had had boyfriends before. Technically. Well— Maybe not. Okay. No. Not really. But Satoru was different. Satoru was the person who had somehow gone from a complete stranger you met at a Doraemon expo, to the man whose name sat permanently pinned at the top of your messages.

Sometimes i onder why people romanticing about drugs or smoking, or anything about drugs. But I know it's not my right to forbid people to write about it, so i'll mind my own bussiness.

honeyoftheisle

Open The Door Gojo x Reader

Dark Gojo x Reader (1/2)

1940s WW2/Post War Au

Synopsis~ Satoru Gojo never noticed you. You were just the ugly duckling cousin of the prettiest girl in the neighborhood, maybe even the entire city. But the Gojo that returns from war is different. Eyes to bright, smile too tight. This Gojo finds you fascinating.

Tropes~ One Sided Love, she fell first, he fell harder. Forced relationship?

Tw/Cw~ WW2, mentions of war, dark themes. Sexisim (not from Gojo)

Author's Note~ I just realized how writing a Japanese character during WW2 may be perceived. I do not intend to minimize or change history. My great grandfather died because injuries he got fighting in the pacific. Gojo plays the part of a Japanese American soldier, which did exists though they are often looked over. I would never write anything supporting the Japanese empire, Gojo will be fighting for the allies.

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

Some people are born with everything. Brains, looks, money. You were one of the poor souls who hadn’t been born with any of those. But you did have family. An aunt who hosted socials and whose lipstick was never smudged. An uncle who spent his mornings at the bank and his weekends at the country club golfing with his bosses. A cousin who was the prettiest girl in the whole neighborhood, maybe even the city. Mable was the type of pretty that made men stop and stare from across the street. She was popular too; she was in every club and committee back in high school.

If someday Rafayel turned blind, He will find a way to keep painting like this man.

#lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel qi

kmnysak

minayans

Never just sex with Satoru.

You and Satoru agree to become friends with benefits with one cliché rule: no falling in love. But you do. And you stupidly confess. What now?

Tags: Smut, angst w comfort if you squint, fwb, p in v, riding, kinks, gojo is a little avoidant shit, model!gojo. Haven’t proofread yettt, I don’t write as much lately. 18+++ I have never written smut please don’t fire me..

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

You have felt Satoru everywhere by now— whether it’s the man buried deep between your legs with his lengthy cock stretching you and hitting that one spongy spot that makes your vision go blank or his hands on your face like he's holding something precious—you’ve felt his large hands map every inch of skin you wear.

No surface of yours left untouched.

Especially late at night when he texts you he's coming over with little to no explanation why.

No feelings.

No strings.

That was the deal. No, that is the deal.

Just sex.

And you have had a lot of sex with Satoru.

From fucking in the comfort of your bedroom or his, to riding him all sweaty and hot in his jeep—even getting shamelessly eaten out in changing rooms during his fittings.

He's tried everything with you. Every curiosity he's had about a new toy, a new kink, a new position—he's premiered and fulfilled with you. You've been stretched into positions you never thought you could with him.

Your legs over his shoulder with him greedily thrusting, your back so arched against his chest while receiving mean back shots, reverse cowgirl with a leash around your neck, full nelson—anything, you name it, you've done.

You've had him in between your legs so many times that you can point out that he particularly dislikes missionary, loves rope play, biting and marking your skin like you don't have a shift next morning—but he's never vanilla.

Never.

Well, he never was.

He always devoured you with a hungry mouth, a desperate and lustful look in his eyes, animalistic thrusts, brutal grip on your hips when he slammed down on you like he wanted you to break.

Sex was casual between the both of you.

The rules were clear. No hickeys, scratches, bites on him while he could mark you as freely as he wished to do so.

Never a mark on him though.

And no, no feelings.

None at all.

Sure, he was attractive. And you didn't have a problem hooking up with him when he'd bring you over the gates of heaven or soothed you through the most aggressive orgasms ever.

You were fine with the whole arrangement…Before last week when he texted you "I'm coming over, leave the door open." At 2 AM.

Shrugging, you left him on read, unlocked the front door and he was walking through it no more than 15 minutes later—dark gray sweatshirt masking his muscles, hood messily pulled over his white tuff of hair, sunglasses slipping from his nose bridge, usually bright eyes dull like you'd never seen them before.

He had crossed the threshold to the balcony where you were curled up in on the couch, crawled on top of you and...

Kissed you with soft lips, slow movements of his jaw, reverent touches, hesitant hands that mapped your body under him.

He kissed with too much feeling. With too much gentleness. With something so not Satoru.

Slid in between your legs, deliberately softened your walls till you could take him, tasting you on his tongue till you were tattooed in his mind, made you fall apart like he'd never done before.

Then he repositioned himself, chin glistening from your juices, didn't bother with a condom—you were too far gone to even stop him and remind him of protection, mind hazy with his unusual attitude.

He had pushed himself inside, losing himself in your wetness bit by bit, watching how his cock disappeared inside your walls.

Both your legs by his sides.

And he drew his chest down—skin flush against your breasts—locking himself in missionary, a position he avoided at any given chance.

You shook underneath him—eyes glossed over from the feeling of him, unprotected, raw in you. The slow drag of his cock in you, meeting your warmth over and over.

Veins imprinting themselves in you, leaving their shape, moulding your pussy to fit him and only him. The deep, intimate thrusts had your throat go dry, a ball of desperation for release there and your orgasm growing painfully slow.

Satoru's breathing was shaky, his lips on your neck, behind your ear. Sucking on your nipples, leaving faint marks you'd see in your reflection when the morning came.

Desperately begging in your ears with pleas that had you clenching around him.

"Please look at me, baby, please."

He was making love to you.

No harsh grinding, no position switching or new experiments.

It was terrifying.

So terrifying.

Because you liked it too much.

You liked this Satoru too much.

Fuck.

Sex is never just sex.

You should have listened to your friends when they warned you.

You knew you were fucked when he came undone with you, whispering sweet nothings you found yourself silently praying to be true.

"You look so—hng- beautiful, angel."

Babbling when he held your face, blue orbs melting with yours when his gaze was zeroed on you and only you. Not on your skin meeting his.

"Just a bit more gorgeous, I'm almost there—shit, you're close too, huh? Clenching onto me so sweetly..."

Those stupid nicknames of his—making your heartbeat falter, your pulse travel to pound against your temples, heat settle on your cheeks.

God, he's such an asshole.

Making love to you on your balcony under the moonlight, on the 10th floor where no one else lives.

When morning bled through your curtains, when you found yourself on your bed alone and with a heavy chest, you knew you were screwed.

He kept fucking you after that day like he didn't rearrange the wires in your brain with no effort.

He kept having sex with you like he wasn't kissing every crevice of you just a week ago. Like he hadn't silently loved every part of you, kissed and paid attention to every insecurity and scar on your skin.

Still, he took you to the moon, had you spasming around his cock like always—only this time, leaving you empty even after he filled you up with his cum.

You knew you felt empty because you wanted him to love you again. You wanted him to see you again, not the body he goes to whenever he wants.

Fuck, you really messed everything up.

You were asking for the impossible, for Satoru to care and love.

So you tried to push him away. Avoid meetups and his messages that only arrived after midnight strikes the clock.

It made no difference—in fact, you felt worse without him around.

By the second week of dodging him, you were about to cave and call him when your front door unlocked and there he was.

Dressed in all black, straight from work—black chemise with enough buttons undone to reveal his pale collarbones. Black slacks and perfectly tailored dark pants that only highlighted his height.

Your heart lurched—half fear and half relief that had adrenaline already coursing through your veins. You stumbled over your words.

"Satoru—what are you—how did you get in here?" Voice shaky, a light frown placing itself on your face.

He was wearing a stern expression on his face, all pursed lips and locked jaws is the kind. An unfamiliar sight to you as he was always obnoxiously smiling even when ticked off.

His hand rose to reveal your spare keys, you dont remember even granting him access to them but don't have time to ponder about that before his arm drops, he throws the keys on the counter and closes the distance between the both of you till he's looming directly over you—hands in his pocket.

"You have been avoiding me." He says, an underlying layer of annoyance sending a chill down your spine.

You try to deflect, "No."

A beat passes, the expression on his face remains.

"No, I haven't." You say more clearly.

And finish with, "I've been busy."

Complete and utter bullshit, you get off work on the dot and your shifts have never been so boring.

But he doesn't need to know that.

Not convinced at all, Satoru curves his spine till his glasses slide off on their own from where they were perched on his nose just enough for his eyes to pierce holes through you.

Blue, cerulean, sky blue consumes you.

And you hate it so much.

So much you wish you could swim in them.

In him.

"Try again." He says, not narrowing his eyes. You swallow, feeling an uneasy sensation bubbling in your stomach that makes you want to throw up when revealing yourself to him crosses your mind.

But he won’t believe you if you spew some other bullshit out.

Fuck it.

“Satoru.” You whisper, seeing his eyes run over your whole face.

“I messed up.”

His figure stiffens. A thousand thoughts running through his mind, a billion questions. Shit, are you pregnant? Weren’t you on the pill? Fuck, what is he supposed to do now?

You see the way his adam’s apple bobs at your statement.

“What is it?” He asks, feeling his knuckles turning white in his pockets, a shiver overtaking his body.

Trying to start, you say. “I.. uh.” Still not sure, and still not confident enough.

Satoru silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is.

A moment of silence passes, he watches you shift around, fiddling with your hands. Biting on and on your lips.

“Y/N?” He calls out to you and you snap out of it.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

And it’s not as stupid as it sounds.

You don’t like Satoru because he fucks you like no other man has. But because he messes with your heart without even knowing it.

Holding you after he’s done is not casual, it’s not normal. You’ve had ex boyfriends who don’t know the world aftercare, but Satoru bathes you, he wipes you clean.

Holds you in the bathtub, washes your hair, draws absentmindedly circles on your tired and tense shoulders.

Brings you your favorite dessert before he goes on to have his fav.

Makes you laugh a laugh that comes from the deepest parts of you which yearn to be light and happy with him.

He’s such a prick, completely unaware of his effect beyond his looks.

And you’re such an idiot for believing him.

For liking someone so good.

He stands there, quiet for what feels like an eternity. Your chest is tight with pressure when he straightens up and takes a step back.

Well, this is it.

“We agreed on no feelings, Y/N.” He says like your heart isn’t splitting in half.

You breathe out a shaky breath, slowly nodding because you are aware. “I know, I’m sorry.”

His eyes unlatch from you, taking a look at the window that shows the view of Tokyo from your floor like it pains him to look you in the face after the confession.

“I don’t see you that way.”

He never likes when you bring up another man, but he doesn't see you that way.

He whispers against your skin that he'd die seeing you with somebody else, but he doesn't see you that way.

You pull a tight smile on your face. “Okay.”

Then you tip the glass over, ruin yourself further. “We can keep seeing eachother if you want, my feelings won’t come between us. I know what I got myself into.” You say. A bittersweet feeling on your tongue.

When did it become so complicated?

You just can’t let him go.

He looks shaken by your proposal, head swinging back to you.

“No, you’ll just hurt yourself, Y/N.”

Stop saying my name, stop being so considerate.

You almost choke on your words from the thorns growing in your throat when you speak. “No, I promise I won’t. We can keep seeing each other.”

Push and pull.

He pushes you, you pull.

And you both keep seeing eachother.

But you detach yourself from everything. From him.

It doesn't even happen on purpose. You didn't mean to zone out when he'd start talking, mind drifting to how you both would've been if he hadn't rejected you.

You don't deliberately choose to start refusing his closeness outside of the bedroom on purpose, the growing cold pit in your chest just froze the strings between the both of you.

He notices your fucked out state on a different world the first time he feels you after the confession. A distant look in your eyes and not the usual cloud of pleasure in them.

Is he not making you feel good?

It took a week, a full week for you to let him in after what happened.

And it’s not true, you do feel good. You know you feel good because he’s doing everything right—the angle is perfect, his tip is brushing the deepest parts of you and the coil is threatening to snap in your lower stomach, but you don’t feel it as much as before.

You’re quiet, minimally moaning, hiding the noises. Not saying a single word unless he asks you something.

“Baby?” His hands find the back of your neck, making your eyes flutter open while he pounds into you.

Propping himself with one hand next to your head, his other holds the back of your neck while your sight settles on him and the worried look on his face.

“Hm?” You sleepily hum, exhausted from the orgasms, the rounds, the ache in your legs and the sensitivity of your clit.

He asks, breath heavy, pieces of hair clinging to his forehead as he reaches his escape—quiet groans filling your ears. “You okay, sweets?”

You nod with an inaudible hum, not really sure what he’s even asking.

“Fuck.” He groans, thrusting a few times before burying himself deep in you as you clench around him and feel his ropes paint your insides white.

Collapsing next to you, his hands leave your body and you run cold. An arm protectively swings over your waist as he readjusts on the bed, coming down from his high before he cleans you up.

You still haven’t said a word. Somewhere too far gone, feeling too used. But you agreed to this.

There’s no one to blame.

And though you’ve both been at it for hours, even though Satoru’s cum is oozing out of you and his cock is limp, he doesn’t feel satisfied.

That uncomfortable feeling in his pit stays there for days while he works.

A photoshoot here and there amidst constant fittings, a text to you which he receives no reply to, a runway, still no response. A missed call. The absence of your messages or any sign of life from you bothers him more than he'd like.

Last time you replied was three days after your last hook up where you'd texted him a flat "I'm busy."

Not "Hey, I'm busy. We'll talk later." Or "Busy, ttyl." Which is still dry, but with a promise to talk later.

He finds himself wondering what you’re doing when you don’t reply.

Cooking in those skimpy little lace shorts he brought back for you from a high end brand? Brushing your soft hair with your legs crossed and your face stoic? Covering your beauty marks with concealer maybe?

The days drag on and on, hours struggle to bleed into other when his phone is so dry, when the smell of you is no longer clinging onto him.

His sex drive is dead. Libido low for the first time reaching a new low.

He doesn’t even text you multiple times a day for sex, he just wants you to reply.

Or to see you.

So much he considers driving himself back to your house again.

But he doesn’t have the spare keys anymore. The ones he had sneakily picked up one time.

Those would’ve been really useful for a surprise right now—he could’ve painted your apartment in pink roses, gift bags of Victoria’s Secret’s new line he heard just came out.

Gosh he’d do everything to see you in those new panties. To then take them off and kiss every curve of your body, every dip of skin.

Shit, it’s never really just sex.

You suffocate in your feelings, in the emptiness that comes of being a toy. Turns out, you’re not as strong as you thought you were.

Being nonchalant about what you feel is way harder than you thought it would be.

So you ignore him.

For days.

A month passes.

Your girlfriends are sick of it. Sick of hearing about him.

You feel stupid.

Maybe you are.

The whole scenario of him rejecting you runs another lap around your head as the elevator climbs 10 floors.

The familiar automatic ding of the lift snaps you out of your head. Doors opening, you step out.

You ground yourself on your floor and see boxes and boxes of pink flowers are on your doorstep, swallowing the entry with no way to get in your house.

Of course it’s him.

Sure, you knew he was a sex addict. But… not to this extent.

So when you catch sight of the singular envelope sticking out from the biggest box of roses and pluck it out, you expect something like “U and me tonight?” With a cheeky emoji.

But you rip the envelope open to “Please pick up the phone, princess.”

Fucking asshole.

Yet, you kick the roses sideways to make way, unlock your door, drop your bag and text “Door is unlocked.” With a disappointed sigh leaving you.

You make your bed knowing it’s going to get ruined in a few hours, clean the kitchen like he’s going to care about anything that isn’t ramming into you.

And the door unlocks sometime past 9 in the evening while you swirl a glass of wine in between your fingers on the balcony, sore legs kicked over the small coffee table.

He comes up on your right through the door. The details of his outfit unknown as you don’t pan your eyes over to him.

One month of no sex—no, no you, has shown Satoru that he does feel for you.

It’s shown him that what he felt was not just naturally from sex, it was straight from his heart. It wasn’t his hormones acting when his chest tightened when he had to leave.

Leaving your peacefully sleeping figure in the morning all alone when it was practically begging for his arms to wrap around you again.

It’s shown him that he can’t breathe without you there.

He kneels in front of where you’re sat on the couch to reach your line of sight as you refuse to even acknowledge him.

Your eyes narrow to the wine before downing it all in one go and setting it down on the glass table before begrudgingly swinging your feet off it.

The silence is thick with tension, unspoken words clawing at your lips. Both yours and Satoru’s.

You feel his eyes trace your every action.

Your spine meets the leather of the couch before you finally break the silence.

“I’m yours, Satoru. Just get on with it.”

His heart shatters into a billion different pieces. Just get on with it? Like you’re a task he has to finish? Like you’re not someone with feelings?

Feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, his mind starts running with questions. Do you not want him anymore? Does he not satisfy you anymore? Have you found someone else?

The thought of you with someone else has his stomach churning. He hasn’t even come to have sex with you, just to clear the air.

Still, your vague look and lack of expression makes his body go cold.

“I’m not here for that.” He says, feeling his voice waver, vocal chords shaking.

Your head finally turns to him. “Then why are you here?”

Internally, he winces. “Because I can’t go another second without you, Y/N.”

You feel the stars sparkle in amazement, the moon shine in delight. Your heart double over.

Is he..?

“I love you.” He cuts your thoughts off.

“I’m a liar, I love you so much I can’t breathe when you’re not around. When you’re not talking to me or holding me.”

“It was never just sex—I”

You cut him off, smashing your lips against him on his knees. There’s no need for you to reciprocate, he knows you love him.

He sighs against you, shoulders dropping from the tension in them leaving, forearms wrapping around your waist as he gets up and sits in your seat.

You land on him, knees digging onto the leather by his sides—feeling his heartbeat against your chest while he pulls you flush against him.

Your arms hold him tight by the neck. Moving around and repositioning yourself ears you a grunt from him as you feel him grow beneath you.

A sheepish smirk presses against his lips as you fail to suppress it. In revenge, his hands drop from your waist and onto your ass, pushing your clothed pussy over his hardening boner.

One month of celibacy has you sensitive to the slightest touch, the imprint of him being nothing like the shitty toys you hoped would get you off in his absence.

He groans once more as you shift over him—now deliberately grinding in slow movements.

A hand slips under the shirt you’re wearing to find that you aren’t wearing a bra, though he already suspected it from your hard nipples against his chest.

You let out a quiet moan from his cold hands against your back.

The low sound of his muffled chuckle vibrates against your lips as he invades your mouth, tongue tasting every inch of you.

Not letting him be in charge, you tug his hair and his mouth falls open for you to explore.

Your lungs beg for air and only then do you break the kiss, feeling his hand push your shirt upwards till your breasts meet the cold night air.

Without even catching his breath, Satoru’s mouth latches onto your nipple like he’s starved and you’re his favorite food.

His tongue swirls around the peak as his other fingers pinch your other lonely nipple, coating your chest in saliva, bundles of nerves electrifying under his touch.

You’re a moaning mess till you have enough of the teasing.

“A-ah—Satoru-” He doesn’t stop at your calling.

“Satoru—”

Finally he perks up. “Yes, sweetheart?”

You try to focus on your words as he humps you dry. “Make-make—love to me.”

His eyes widen like it’s Christmas day. A second passes. He crashes. God, his name coming from your lips, the seemingly innocent request when it’s so secretly filthy. The wires reconnect in his brain and suddenly you’re grateful you only wore a really oversize, old shirt of his you stole.

What else would you need to wear with him around? The damp material of your lacy panties gets pushed aside and he unbuckles his pants, freeing his hard, dusty pink, groomed cock out.

You gasp when his tip pushes at your entrance, having forgotten the sheer size of him and his girth.

“Satoru!”

He groans, head falling back as your juices leak down on him.

“Oh fuuuck,” he drags, eyes falling closed. “Ah- should’ve prepped you—It’s been a while now, hasn’t it, baby? But you’re so wet I’m sure you can take me, right my sweet girl?”

So you do, you bite your lips, stabilise yourself on his shoulders and slowly sink down onto him. He kisses you slow, pressing soft skin against you, bitting your bottom lip delicately.

His hands leave your ass and one of them wraps around your back, bringing you impossibly close to him.

The other presses into your hair, angling your head sideways so he can lose himself in your mouth.

He lets you stay bottomed out for a moment so you can readjust, relearn the shape of him.

A needy whine vibrates against Satoru's lips once he shifts inside of you.

You feel his grin against you before he delivers the first thrust—deep, slow, curved just right to hit your cervix right off the bat. Your lips part for you to let out a moan from your chest.

He takes the opportunity to bite your neck. Leave his mark and kiss down your carotid. Gentle, reverent kisses. Deliberate nips. Purple and pink shades decorating fron your neck to your collarbone and breasts.

You're his vision. His canvas.

With two hands under your thighs, Satoru bounces you on his length. Perfectly inclined pink tip that never really leaves your pussy when he lifts your hips, but meets the familiar muscular ring deep within you whenever he drops you down every.single.time.

The sound of skin meeting skin so intimately getting absorbed by the sky.

You writhe over him, legs starting to ache, lips swelling—throat going dry from the moaning once he starts to circle around your clit, drawing you closer to the edge.

In one sudden movement, he lays you down on the couch. Your back against the soft cushions—his hot figure hovering over you, hand on your hip, elbow dug in the leather to prop himself up.

And he really starts hitting the spot. Your sight starts to blur, tears prickling at the corners from the feeling of sheer fullness. He starts to pick up the speed just a bit, going harder, not fast yet enough for him to feel you reaching your climax.

Your nails claw at his back under his shirt, looking for something that will tether you to earth while you clench and clench till his rhythm is stuttering.

"Oh my pretty girl, I'm so close-ugh—you're doing so well f'me." His teeth sink into your shoulder and you feel your legs going weak.

A hand dips under you, hooking under your back and arching you upwards.

Once.

Twice, he thrusts.

And you come. Hard.

He follows immediately, shaking when he buries himself inside of you. Walls fluttering and pulling him in viciously.

Neither of you dare to move, he collapses over you and flips you both with him still inside your walls till your head lands on his chest.

You don't need to say it out loud.

But you're his.

And he's yours.

Haven’t proofed this yet because im a little lazy buttttt what if its not just a masterlist either…?

Working on pregnant reader x husbandnanami and hockey!gojo x reader..

blueberrytrickster

Pushed Back (One-Shot; LADS)

NSFW, 18+ MDNI

Description: Caleb gets a kick out of how hot you think he looks with his hair pushed back.

WC: 4k

As Regina George once said..."Your hair looks so sexy pushed back." (Someone actually hit me in the face I can't stop thinking about him. REEEE!!!!!!!!!!)

- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist)

Looking for you, as usual, Caleb’s voice sounds from down the hall. “Pips?”

As he enters the living room and when you peer up from your phone while sat on a long lounge chair, your eyes widen.

He’s got a crisp, white towel wrapped and hanging low on his hips. A few droplets of water roll from his collarbones down his bare chest, and…wet, his hair is slicked back.

gigineedssleep

While you sleep

Witch!Reader x Demon!Caleb

WARNINGS: yandere themes, haunting, Religious themes, Obsessive themes, Caleb probably needs therapy, Falling and tumbling, Minor Violence, death, hallucinations,non human entity, Caleb's pathetic, kissing, Fem!Reader, sort of slowburn I guess?

Synopsis: For weeks on end you've felt as someone had been watching you from corners, Stealing glances at you, you could feel it grow colder as you were talking to someone, the hairs on your arm standing, and the suddenly gone when the person had walked away, being a witch you were used to entities being around you but this entity was insistent and obsessive…and now terrorizing your dreams.

Word count: 2.9k words

Also on AO3 ↳ : https://archiveofourown.org/works/88430711

Weeks

It had been weeks since you've felt as if you were no longer alone, you couldn't remember the last time you had slept through the night peacefully, everywhere you went you felt its presence looming behind you, closer than your own shadow.

It was not as if you were unfamiliar with entities as a whole, being a witch you had faced your fair share of the paranormal, but this encounter was different. The entities never stayed this close, never showed themselves too much, lurking but at a distance, and they would eventually leave too without much fuss. This one made sure you knew it was behind you. watching and at times it even messed with you while you were busy talking to someone, dropping the temperature of the room, messing with vases, opening and shutting windows and only quitting when the person you were conversing with eventually grew wary or uncomfortable and left.

But tonight it crossed all boundaries.

After what seemed like hours you had finally found the sweet embrace of sleep, only to find yourself standing in what seemed like an endless black abyss, land stretching to as far as the eye can see and even beyond, the only thing in front of you? A mirror. It looked like one of those heavy ones you could find at a noble's house, with a gold frame and beautifully carved out edges that could rival even the works of greek carvers, it called you to it, like a siren to a hopeless sailor.

Your feet moved on their own accord, taking hesitant steps to the mirror, and when finally you stepped in front of it your eyes grew double their size, this isn't what you wore to sleep, you thought, your eyes doing a double take on the simple white dress you were wearing, it had flowy sleeves and was light enough to run around in, exactly kind of dress you had always seen the high born girls wear and wished for yourself but never had the funds for it. Suddenly, whilst you were busy admiring the dress, you saw a shift from behind you quicker than a human, slower than a shadow, a figure you could've sworn it. You turned around to face it head on, you weren't going to let the creature get the best of you, not yet at least.

“‘I saw you” You call out to the deceptively empty… room? Could you even call it that? there were no walls, only an endless ‘sky’ of black.

A beat passed by, and then two of pure silence, you sighed giving up and turning back to the mirror only to lock eyes with the source of your irritation and terror. There he was standing right behind you, a small coy smile on his face. All Muscle, for a demon he was unnervingly handsome,he was tall and purple eyes fixed on you like you were a lamb meant for slaughter, And so you did the only reasonable thing.

You ran.

Where to? You had no idea yourself, but anywhere was alright as long as you were far away from that..that thing, from somewhere far or near you heard him chuckle, his voice boyish a clear antithesis of who he actually was.

“Really? Is that how you wanna play this”’ He spoke, His voice a mix of exasperation and playful teasing, as the plain land you ran on shifted to slabs of cement. You were in a cloister now, running past the cement arches as fast as your feet allowed you too.

“You know, this isn't going to get you anywhere, Why not face me as you did minutes before? Where's that brave girl who valiantly stood up to me?” The demon mocked, his footsteps heard faintly behind you. Turning your head, you saw his eyes glowing now, he was wearing human clothes, specifically a uniform—The royal guards uniform, Navy tunic and white pants, and boots that went up till they eventually stopped at his knees. His arms crossed as he leisurely trailed after you, who were sprinting as fast as you possibly could.

If only you had the demon's name, you could send it back to wherever it had spawned out of, alas, you were too busy running for your life to try and engage in conversation with him.

Perhaps you should have, too, because in the blink of an eye the ground stated collapsing, the very ground you were on bending in on itself, and just as you thought this was the end you open your eyes to find yourself in a ballroom, a glass of champagne in your hand, your still in the same dress, and when you look around the realization hits you: you're not alone anymore.

At least you think you're not alone anymore,you can't quite make out faces but the ballroom was filled with people as if there was a ball going on, had you imagined things? Was it all a vision and nothing more? Questions filled your brain as you tried focusing on the blurry faces that walked past you, deciding to put blame on the bizarre events you had just encountered, Your brain was just slightly frazzled, that's all. You took a step forward, deciding it was best if you calm your brain down by taking a turn of the room. The sound of music lightly flowed as you watched the couples dance on the floor, you stood on the side of dance floor watching them, but your mind was far away, wondering who that demon could be and why it latched onto you, when you hadn't even summoned it, could it have used on of your earlier spells to slip through from its realm? Or was it just a silly apparition your tired brain had conjured up? Come to think of it, that particular demon did seem more like an angel, perhaps it was just your mind.

You look up breaking out of your thoughts when you hear the music stop, everyone now walking in the room, mingling about, and while lost in the crowd of blurry faces, it was as if you had drunk too much, you saw a tall figure on the other side of the room, standing out from the crowd and staring directly at you, perfectly still and unmoving.

It was him.

Fuck.

You stood frozen in fear, eyes fixed on the demon who tilted his head as if he was saying “gotcha”, you couldn't do much besides stare at him in fear, the rest of the crowd disappearing into background noise.

Who was he? What did he want with you? What would it take for him to stop? Your fear slowly morphed into anger, you had not left the church of astra to be afraid of another being, divine or not, you were not going to succumb to this childish demon.

“Oh don’t look at me like that sweetheart, you wound me.” the demon purred out from across the room and somehow no one turned to look at the obnoxiously tall man, so this was his game, an illusion, none of these people existed, he conjured them up. This is all one big jest and you're the punch line, aren't you? And so, as if you were a dam of pent up emotion,

You snap.

“What do you want of me!” you yell out from across the room, practically shrieking it out, visibly shaking from the anger, your hands fisted, and, for a moment, the creature's indifferent face slipped and surprise clouded his features, taken aback by your outburst. He looked at you for a long second before simply nodding to himself and snapping his fingers.

“Alright, no more games, my dear” was the last thing you heard before the ground started moving, warping everything as if you were on some bizarre ride, knocking the wind out of your lungs and making you lose your balance and falling, only to be caught just in time by a secure hand on your waist. Your throat tightens up looking at your savior's face who's just giving you a sly smile.

“Who are you?” you manage to breathe out, you can't for the life of you figure out his intentions, he's not here to terrorize you, neither is he here because he wants a favor. So why?

“I am the fate that's come to cling at your door.” He speaks, helping you stand properly, now, in the same endless spiral of dark you arrived at. “I knew it from the moment I saw you at the church. You didn't belong there, they didn't deserve someone as kind and compassionate as you, how could they? So I did what I had to do. Unfortunate accidents, unexplainable deaths, whatever had to be done to keep those pests away from you. I had been thinking of ways to reveal myself to you until it dawned on me…all i had to do was make sure you couldn't run. At least until you understood.” He spoke as if it physically pained him, looking away for a second before bringing his violet eyes back to your face,staring at you, with such intensity it made your heart stop.

“Understood? Understood what?” you ask cautiously, unsure of what this was leading to,your hand fisting your dress, preparing to run if you must, but even you knew it would be futile to.

“That you belong here, with me.” he says like it's obvious, eyes wide, and for the first time a smile, not to tease or condescend, but just an actual smile to show his joy. “Id make sure you'd never long for anything, this—” He gestured to the dress, his hands running over the silk for a fleeting moment. “—Is just the start, I could have entire civilizations at your feet by dawn, my lady. All you need to do is give me the chance to prove to you that only I am worthy of you. I will strive to make myself whatever you need, whatever you want. Please” he begged, breathing heavily.

You couldn't believe it. A demon. A creature of hell, was in love with you. You looked at him for a long beat, trying to comprehend what you were hearing, no one had ever fallen in love with you, especially not a fearsome creature of hell. What do you even do in situations like these? Better yet, what did you feel for him? You couldn't deny he was attractive and a not so tiny part of you was willing to let him stay, after all it was you who, rather than look for ways to get rid of the entity, let it wander and linger until its feelings got so strong it trapped you goodness knows where.

“I do not even know you, and yet here you ask me for my love, surely you cannot be serious” you argue back, whatever you felt for him aside, you didn't even know his name, how could he expect you to love him back? You stood more at ease, now that you were no longer running for your life that is.

At your words, his eyes narrowed as if he couldn't even comprehend the fact, to him you just fall in love, love didn't have terms and conditions did it? He wasn't a stranger to the concept of love either, having read about it plenty of times, being a firm believer of it happening at first sight, at least after he saw you. But the fact you didn't freak out as soon as he confessed was reason enough for him to indulge you and your need to know about him.

“What would you like to know, my sweet?” he raised his eyebrow as if encouraging you to ask, he reached for your hand before backing away, worried it might startle you. Little to his knowledge, you noticed and took his hand before you could even process it, you froze for a moment wondering what you had done, while his eyes lit up like a child with a candy.

Sighing, you let it go, his hand was oddly comforting to you, and it was you who reached out anyway. “Well, for starters…whats your name?” you ask, gently, careful not to scare him off, wondering what kind of name he'd have.

“Caleb” he answers without hesitation, eyes shining into yours, affection dripping out like honey from his violet eyes.

“Oh, that's far more simple than what i was expecting” you burst out laughing, for a demon you were expecting a more terror invoking name, something in latin. You shake your head, clutching your stomach from how hard you were laughing. At the sight of your amusement Caleb's eyes crinkle, a huge grin on his face forming.

“I am terribly sorry to disappoint you then, my lady” he jests teasingly, crossing his arms, happy to see you be yourself freely. It was all he could have asked for. Truly. “I am glad to see you are warming up to me” he admits softly, the demeanour shifting from playful to soft and wholesome in seconds.

“You are not all that bad, Caleb” you chuckled and for the first time this entire night—no for the first time in months, you felt at peace, like no one was after you, you were safe and accepted as you are, something not even your own parents could do. Caleb seemed to catch on to what you were thinking because the next words out of his mouth, you were not expecting.

“You don't have to pretend with me, love” he tilted his head, looking at you with pity, and for some reason it felt good to be pitied for once, not blamed or chastised. “I know life has been far too tough on you, I've witnessed it for myself, and I'll be damned if I allow you to feel like that again. No one will ever hurt you again” he spoke as if he was making a vow,and for some reason you believed it, it was hard not to with the way he was saying it, would it be that bad if you just let him stay? You wondered, looking at him.

The rest of the hours flew by, with you asking questions and him answering as honestly as he could, even sneaking a joke here and there. You told him about yourself too, on how you were cast out from church for asking ‘too many questions’, how your parents threatened to marry you off until eventually, you ran away and became a governess to a wealthy family, and now practiced witchcraft in your spare time, helping families ward off ghosts and spirits and occasionally selling desperate women love potions or spells. He told you of who he was, and how demons lived and how he got to earth in the first place, being summoned on a whim, and now unable to leave or rather now unwilling to leave.

You didn't have much track of how much time you spent because of the lack of clocks and sun, but you did have a feeling it had been hours since you first came here, you look at Caleb wondering if he would grant you leave or would remain steadfast in keeping you here.

“Hey, Caleb?” you called out to him, your gaze turning soft and apologetic like you were already apologising for cutting your time together short “as much as i’ve enjoyed talking to you, i think its time i headed back” you didn’t say it harshly but there was a firmness that proved you weren't about to argue with him over this. He paused looking at you for a second, as if debating something, before reluctantly sighing and nodding.

“Alright alright, I don't think I have much say over your stubbornness anyway” he teased but there was a certain fondness in his eyes that made you forget to breathe, you thanked him, a smile bright on your face as you contemplated something. You liked him this much even you can tell, and he liked you too so what if you just kissed him? A tiny peck wouldn't hurt anyone surely? These were the thoughts that led you to leaning forward and placing a light peck on his lips, smiling giddily as you watched Caleb's expression change from a wistful one to one of pure shock and delight, laughing a bit dazed.

“Goodnight, Caleb” you wished him farewell, shifting your weight on both feet, a playful smile on your lips, you had never felt this giddy before, the sensation was a bit addictive if you were being honest, you looked at Caleb who had finally returned to the life of the living, snapping out of his lovesick expression.

With a snap of his fingers, you woke up back in your bed, in the same clothes you fell asleep in, the rays of sunlight seeping through your white curtains, the dawn breaking into the sky, as you sat up, leaning against your headboard, uncertain if it was all a dream your bored head had conjured up.

The thought of Caleb not being real almost felt hollowing.

But then from the corner of yours eyes, you saw the same figure staring at you as you saw in your dream, now not bothering to hide in shadows as he looked and smiled at you, you felt a chill run up your spine,however it confirmed one of your suspicions, that this was far from over, you had just bound yourself to a demon for the rest of eternity, your fates now intertwined, for better or for worse,then he spoke his words echoing in your room or perhaps it was your mind

See you Soon, My love

A/N: fin! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it, its my first work in the fandom and i hope i delivered, i know with everything going on with valko and infold is stressful but atleast we have fanfics right? Reblog if you liked it!

chanelrolls

caleb’s back from college!

rating: explicit/nsfw category: f/m, caleb/reader, reader-insert tags: childhood friends to lovers, pseudocest, mutual pining, domesticity, playfight, sexual tension, homecoming, suppressed!caleb, yearning!caleb, submissive top!caleb, insecure!caleb, forced proximity, forbidden/risky, “be quiet, granny will hear us”, making out, dryhumping, p in v, mirror sex, backshots, leg hooking, aftercare, i think that's it? wordcount: 15.9k PREVIEW : “wait, what the hell?!” you gasped, your hands flying up in a knee-jerk reaction to push him back, but caleb's hands immediately shot forward to pin you back down against the couch. “see?” caleb murmured, leaning down closer, his hot breath fanning across your cheeks, smelling faintly of the mint gum he'd been chewing. “you couldn't even move before i did this. you can't even defend yourself, you silly girl. that means you still need me to protect you.” SYNOPSIS : what was supposed to be a casual homecoming quickly devolves into a suffocating game of unspoken jealousy and long-awaited confessions where every shared glance and tight space threatens to collapse the boundaries of your childhood friendship. trapped between the ticking clock of his limited sixty-day leave and the terrifyingly possessive reality of how much he’s missed you, will the tension eventually snap?

caleb is coming back this summer.

baobei-bu

Breakfast with Caleb

krebkrebkreb

love and deepspace is so funny in a ton of ways, not the least of which being that it’s an angst game full of angst with a huge helping of angst on top masquerading as a romance game

and this angst romance game has wacky characters like:

🐠 merman sea god who is an artist with flame powers for some reason. his symbol is not a fish but a duck. there is a section of the story where he goes into heat. canonical billionaire. also a serial revenge killer.

❄️ accomplished heart surgeon with ice powers who is trapped in a cycle of multiverse-spanning reincarnations. mc’s childhood friend and also her doctor. blatantly the horniest of the lot but you wouldn’t know it because he has never shown anyone an emotion ever.

💫 centuries old immortal space prince. literally an alien. got stuck in the past after attempting wormhole travel and has been bopping around earth until mc is born. mc’s monster-fighting coworker and upstairs neighbor. secretly batman.

🐦‍⬛ dangerous crime boss. also an alien, probably. also a dragon whose soul is bound to mc’s. once made mc shoot him in the heart to prove his immortality. wife guy in a “he supports women’s wrongs” way.

🍎 cyborg military commander with gravity powers. flies space planes. was killed in an explosion but got better. a narrative representation of the biblical eve. diagnosed mentally/emotionally unwell. wife guy in a “he is the wife” way.

and. like. originally i was going to say only a sentence about each of them but i could not pick just one of the many, many unhinged things about the tiny men who live in my phone.

absolutely batshit insane game. hilarious.

i have cried probably a dozen times while playing it.

applefishing

priest caleb x virgin reader virgin reader confesses her lustful thoughts to her kind and gentle priest, unaware of his own battle with temptation. 11k words. read on ao3

You were a good girl.

Good girls weren’t distracted during Sunday sermon. They sat still and attentive, obediently absorbing lessons to carry with them throughout their lives. Good girls were never distracted.

Especially not by their priest.

They weren’t distracted by the hair curling around his neck in pretty little flicks of brown, or by the look in his gentle eyes when his gaze lingered on them in the second row of pews, or by the ways his long fingers firmly gripped the Holy Book as he held it high—far out of reach of the average person.

chanelrolls

caleb’s back from college!

caleb is coming back this summer.

fukiouh

[SOLVED] | nerdjo x reader

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. The second was moving in with him anyway. Satoru Gojo is a gorgeous man and a terminally online incel who will explain exactly why a nice guy like him can't get a girlfriend. When you decide to weaponize your hotness against his incel worldview, you expect to break him and his “alpha male" ideologies. You do not expect to spend a random evening getting your roommate's dick out of a stuck cock ring.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

warnings: 18+ (mdni!!), explicit sexual content, afab!reader, modern AU, roommate AU, nerdjo, incel!gojo, virgin!gojo, oral (m and f receiving), piv, creampie, light degradation, praise kink, cum in hair, cum eating, cum-drunk, pussy-drunk, cock rings, fleshlights, improper use of hair tie, improper use of yogurt (accidentally ??), oil and fluids everywhere, it’s a bit disgusting, light choking, groping, big time copium from reader, secondhand embarrassment you’d die, reddit, incel stuff, crack treated seriously, fluff, smut, slow burn but the burn is just pure cringe

word count: 17k

The first mistake you made was using Reddit to find a roommate. Should’ve been a red flag, really. The second was agreeing to meet the guy in person.

You walked into the coffee shop, scanning the midday crowd for someone who matched the description — twenty-something, remote-employed, appreciates a quiet living environment. You were expecting a tired grad student, maybe. Or some tech guy in a Patagonia fleece. Something like that.

Instead, you found a gorgeous, gorgeous looking man. And you were confident it was him, since there were exactly two men present — him, and some grandpa having his afternoon caffeine fix.

And the guy was, objectively and objectifyingly speaking, probably the prettiest guy you had ever laid your eyes on. Way too tall, way too broad, the messy hair and the cute glasses adding the je ne sais quoi of the hot nerd aesthetic you were simply too weak for. Even hunched over his phone like that, he looked aggressively cute. But, let’s be honest, you weren't exactly against a cheeky roommates-to-lovers situation, if you catch my drift.

tonycries

Back To Black - N.K.

Synopsis. When you came knocking at Nanami Kento’s mansion, stranded in the middle of a storm, he couldn’t turn you away just like that - could he? After all, you smelled so cold, so scared, so…delectable. And you might learn that there’s a reason they keep demons locked away in large, lonely mansions. Because didn’t you know that he’s one hell of a butler?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, demon butler!Nanami, Black Butler AU, plot, powers, mansions, use of ‘my lady’, slight bIood and vioIence, slightly yan!Nanami, slight angst, reincarnations, yearning, pússydrúnk Nanami, fíngering, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, chokíng, p talking, manhandIing, matíng presses, use of his demon powers, x-rays, he’s a gentleman until he breaks, rough s, running from it, creampíes, cúmpIay, soul bonding, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.6k

A/N. Spooky season isn’t over until I say so…

“Goddamm- oh.” The merciless hand of the storm swipes your face, and you instantly clamp your eyes and lips shut against the sting.

It was a night colder than cold, a storm crueler than cruel. Fallen instantly: it was as if someone had simply snuffed out the light of day, and plunged you into a world that hurtled on its axis. Despite the portico you stood underneath, you clutched your tattered coat tighter against the wind.

This place had been the first you’d encountered during your treacherous walk. A light. And without thinking, you’d stumbled towards it.

Perhaps a home. Perhaps shelter.

The fog thickens. Your fist raises, knock-knock-knocking against the tall, wooden door. It was decorated in intricate swirling patterns and engravings that you couldn’t make out in the darkness right now.

You wonder whether whoever was inside could even hear you over the storm. Desperately, your fist raises to knock again when-

The door opens.

And inside stands a handsome blond man.

Almost otherworldly.

“My lady.”

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